Jul 6, 2019
golddome liked your post “starter call. ”
Hazy mornings, dead grounds. Blight, [blight] wakes up to a empty field, all life simply gone now that he had slept a night inside. The submarine would have been better, but stale air never did anyone good.
blight [what was his name] could not remember much, but he was here for some reason.
He feels mad.
And so moments later, there was a giant bon fire made of radiactive fire, one story high like a beacon.
He hates mornings.