He didn’t know what to do.
The feeling, tone, and mood of the world had turned so dramatically. Even with the shadows, the monstrous drum he couldn’t hear, and the spread of devastation across the road, he didn’t feel in any danger, especially around Ralph, who had been so patient with him as he staggered through this bizarre wokeness.
That had all changed in a moment of evening sunlight.
“What are you!?” Ralph said again. He turned to the stage and nodded.
“Go hide. I’ll take care of this. You’re safe.” He said.
“Please Ralph,” a child whispered.
“Just go!” He barked.
Ralph turned back to him and began to walk slowly into the center of the building. He stopped between the rows of broken benches, which were covered with clusters of rubble. The air grew heavier and stagnant around him. Ralph’s eyes had a searing glint to them, they shined in the shadows of the broken room. The potential for violence was weighing reality down, like a snake that paralyzes its prey. He knew the sensation, but he didn’t know why.
“Who are you nameless guy? Who are you? What are you?” Ralph said. Something clicked on the weapon he was holding.
“I, I don’t know. I don’t know.” He said.
“Well, I can’t kill a nameless man, so I’ll give you a name so when I tell this fucked up story to other survivors, in my literal ocean of fucked up stories, they’ll know a name.” Ralph said. He looked up at the arching roof, which had a hole blown through it, with a slant of orange evening light falling through between curtains of ivy.
“We’re in the church of Erasmus, so that’ll do, your name is Erasmus now,” Ralph said. He tucked the weapon into his armpit.
“W-wait, I don’t even know what’s happening or anything. Please. I didn’t do anything,” he said.
“Look,” Ralph snarled.
“L-look? Look at what?” He said.
“Your shadow,” Ralph said.