Horror is like the humor, the one without the other can't exist. Horror makes life more interesting like the humor!

False humility is the pride of not being proud, real humility is without the consciousness that pride exists.

But how conceive a God supremely good/ Who heaps his favours on the sons he loves,/ Yet scatters evil with as large a hand?[Written after an earthquake in Lisbon killed over 15,000 people]

The small launch bay was littered with debris. A powerful breeze tore at his black silk shirt as Kilroy made his way across it to the waiting shuttle, evoking a feeling like the fingers of fate were caressing his body. __he Hammer_ stepped over the body of one of his fallen crew without a trace of care or concern. The air was rushing past him, like a wind, out into space through the wounds in the side of his ship. Fatigued and desperate, the Hammer was running out of options. His ship was a mess, holed in a dozen places, the life support systems failing. Weakened hull sections were collapsing in pressure bursts. The vibrations that shook the deck beneath him now were not from the engines that once drove her forward, but now from the explosions down below, tearing her apart.

She blushed and so did he. She greeted him in a faltering voice, and he spoke to her without knowing what he was saying.

I feel sorry and for the both characters the drama for the girl, which was unknown was one very big, for the father who knows what has happened to him... I try to explore him little deeper, but so far to go in the darker without a light...!?