On a night filled with darkness and chaos, a man runs out of his house

On a night filled with darkness and chaos, a man runs out of his house. The torrential rain falls as if the sky is falling, instantly drenching him and obscuring his vision. He runs barefoot through the mud that used to be his garden, feet sinking into the soggy ground, as lightning briefly illuminates the scene around you, revealing menacing shadows and distorted contours. Thunder explodes in the sky, reverberating in the bones of man, but he doesn't stop. Desperation is visible in every step, the panic in every gasping breath. He doesn't look back, doesn't dare to see what might be following him. Your mind is dominated by fear, by the survival instinct, as he runs through the deserted streets, where the dark houses seem to silently watch your escape. Window lights flicker and fail under the impact of lightning, as trees fall with frightening cracks, blocking your path and forcing you to swerve sharply. He slips in the mud, almost falling, but clings to what's left of his strength, driven by the terror that haunts him. The storm is an indomitable force, but something else is out there, something he can't see, but feels — a presence, a threat that makes the chaos of nature almost insignificant in comparison. With every lightning bolt, he hopes that the creature in the clouds, or something even more terrible, be revealed. The suspense is unbearable, the feeling that something is about to emerge from the shadows, that your race is in vain, that there is no safe haven. He keeps running, hope waning with every step, the sound of the storm drowning out their screams of terror, as the night closes in around you, relentless and full of lurking horrors.