In the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, dark waters conceal ancient sorrows and unspoken sufferings. Centuries ago, countless souls plunged into these haunting depths from the enslaving ships that carried them far from their homeland in West Africa. These souls, laden with immeasurable grief and anguish, sank into crevices on the sea floor, trapped and festering with hate and longing for all that was savagely stolen from them.

From the depths they come, writhing and creeping in shadows, tainting all they touch.

A Category 5 hurricane, fierce and unsparing, was germinating over the Atlantic Ocean, its monstrous wind currents swirling with an intensity forged from the very anger of the trapped souls. Fueled by an ancient wrath, the hurricane amassed unthinkable power, becoming an unstoppable force bound for the shores of the present-day Americas.

In the quiet, unsuspecting town of Daphne, Alabama, the wind began to howl, signaling the arrival of the tempest. The storm crashed upon the beaches, unleashing the spirits from their watery prisons. Rising from the ocean's heaving depths, the souls emerged, each breath of the wind and each crash of the waves whispering their torment.

They moved across the land unseen at first, ethereal and spectral, yet palpable in their simmering fury. As the storm's wrath subsided, the full extent of their malevolent presence was unveiled. These spirits, carried on the gales of retribution, began to exact their horrific vengeance upon the living.

From the depths they come, writhing and creeping in shadows, tainting all they touch.

The souls’ campaign of havoc began in the coastal realms of Alabama, where silent streets fell to chaos. They consumed the lives of everyone they encountered with an otherworldly hunger, leaving behind nothing but desolation. The terror spread swiftly—city by city, state by state—crossing the American continent with relentless determination.

The dead-eyed souls, shadows of their former selves, wielded their vengeance with unmitigated ferocity. No place was safe from their wrath. Families, communities, entire cities fell silent under the weight of this spectral onslaught. Humans, the descendants of those who perpetuated their unimaginable suffering, were desolated in the wake of this unholy storm.

From the depths they come, writhing and creeping in shadows, tainting all they touch.

Words of terror flew across the world, but no force could stem this tide of darkness. Modern machines of war and desperate cries for peace alike were irrelevant against the power of the anguished souls.

By the time the storm had calmed and the skies had cleared, a dreadful silence fell over the land. The once thriving continent was now devoid of human life, haunted only by the echoes of the damned. The animals roamed free, unaware and untouched by the horrors that had unfolded. The spirits, finally unleashed, lingered in the abandoned cities and towns, a grim reminder of the injustices of the past.

From the depths they come, writhing and creeping in shadows, tainting all they touch.

And so, the once enslaved souls found their grim vengeance and a ghostly form of peace in a land now free of their oppressors, leaving an eerie testament to the indomitable force of their anguish.