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Showing stories tagged with #war-aftermath Clear filter
(authors note: this is something that's been lost in the back memory of my computer for a while, I don't want to clog up my feed with unfinished stories, so I've decided to turn this into a short...
My cousin Jessie and I are both in love with The Boy Who Lived. But he's mine. Ever since he became "The Chosen One", everyone's been jealous. I remember, when we were fourteen, everyone hated him.
Mummy what's that flower for. Mummy no-one's talking any more Mummy that man looks really sad Mummy has something happened, something bad.
(For those who care, this is a continuation of Vengeance!, Shipwright's Labor, and Retribution, posted about 25 days ago.) Bone white: The water worn pebbles where our warship sleeps.
This is real. This dirt under perfect fingernails. Perfect scratches down. Barbie plastic skin. This is real. Like a bomb that can't quite explode. A verse that just couldn't come.
I walk among the remains of the village. Houses are crumbled in ruins, and dilapidated shops lie empty, all products long stolen.
#cheesebattle. The world, it lies in pieces,. As Feather did predict,. The baddies bumped off all the goods,. Including D and Nic,. The Aston at the junkyard,. Maybe in for a repair,.
It's easy to see how, after living my entire life under a glass bio dome, I was more than a little frightened by the open, unprotected sky. I stand on the dry dusty ground which was once mud.
He stood at the edge of the garden and surveyed the sacred land. His worn out boots were deep in weeds, a worn out hoe in his hand.
Shadowland I hated this time. Everything was dead and empty. The ground was dry and cracked; an attempt to starve us into submission.
13 War was declared.