Summer is here. No matter how the world changes, the seasons cycle onward. True, some of them have become more or less extreme with all the global climate changes, but my cat still watches the birds from the deck, the raspberries still rise in the soil I’ve created for them, and I still sit in my rocking chair on the porch. I ignore the wastelands beyond the hills, although I see the smoke rising still. The Wasted Ones haven’t bothered me since I planted my bombs in the earth beyond my fields. They make good fertilizer for my thorn hedges.
Love this. Beautifully done!
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I love this, you provide us with a prose poem that hits at the end with “The Wasted Ones haven’t bothered me since I planted my bombs in the earth beyond my fields. They make good fertilizer for my thorn hedges,” – POW!
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Thank you!
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That’s one way of dealing with problem neighbours. I want to know more about the Wasted Ones. Great stuff!
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Thanks, Nick!
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smart woman! sounds like a bit like walking dead. great job!
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Thanks, Tara!
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Awesome flash fiction, Tyrean.
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Thank you!
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Nothing more relaxing and enjoying your garden (and your lack of neighbors.) Great job, Tyrean!
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Thanks!
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