They march through a great cannon. They hear the wolves baying in the night. The cries cut through the darkness. The walls of limestone reveals the thousands of history in the sea bed. The thud of an arm falling to the cannon floor echoes for minutes. The snarl of the zombies and ghouls pierce through the night. The dead see a lone wolf silhouetted in the moon’s harsh light. They hear the pitiful cries for help as deer are hunted by winter wolves. The screams as human travelers are ripped limb from limb by werewolves. The  rip of flesh and snap of bone. The moon fades away and a red sun rises, blood was shed this night.