A Circle comes from the sky; it has happened before, but for mincemeat, only once.
It was too late; it was all a play. In the waters of the aspen's gaze, stood only the cars and NickEh30. One blooming with the joys of nature, exploding with the sprouts of yarrow and sage and hollyhock. And one decaying into the midst of time, painting the picturesque, lush-green tapestry into streaks of fiery desperation, each stroke a story of loss. The forest itself were just rows of bountiful green lines interspersed with thousands of angry red circles, their shape of which was not-so-quite circular. And after that--darkness. The Circle was coming. Pitch-black, perfect solitude, tinted with the glint of a lavender sky.
There was nothing NickEh30 could have done. Perhaps it was at the tender age of 14, when he first heard the words "I'm from the government and I'm here to help", deracinated from his motherland to fight for a fortnight in an exotic land. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. Or was it when he ran away from the gunfight so many days ago? Whatever. The Circle was coming. There was nothing he could do anyways, with only a rare Stone's Burst Assault Rifle and 70 pieces of wood. Not enough to build a trench for the night, or a pile of stairs to hide behind, or anything really. Not that he needed to, anyways: The Circle exterminated all. Perhaps. The only thing that remained were regrets of the past, of memories forgotten in ennui and longing.
Perhaps. In Tenebrae comes Strepitus. Look up at the sky--can't you see it? And as NickEh30 ducked from the sound of lightning derooting oak, he took a final coup d'oeil at the interior of his resting place.The Circle was coming. It was here, at the intersection between idyll and oblivion, passivity and desperation, that NickEh30 first saw the sign.
"Welcome to Loot Lake"
It was too late; it was all a play. In the waters of the aspen's gaze, stood only the cars and NickEh30. One blooming with the joys of nature, exploding with the sprouts of yarrow and sage and hollyhock. And one decaying into the midst of time, painting the picturesque, lush-green tapestry into streaks of fiery desperation, each stroke a story of loss. The forest itself were just rows of bountiful green lines interspersed with thousands of angry red circles, their shape of which was not-so-quite circular. And after that--darkness. The Circle was coming. Pitch-black, perfect solitude, tinted with the glint of a lavender sky.
There was nothing NickEh30 could have done. Perhaps it was at the tender age of 14, when he first heard the words "I'm from the government and I'm here to help", deracinated from his motherland to fight for a fortnight in an exotic land. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. Or was it when he ran away from the gunfight so many days ago? Whatever. The Circle was coming. There was nothing he could do anyways, with only a rare Stone's Burst Assault Rifle and 70 pieces of wood. Not enough to build a trench for the night, or a pile of stairs to hide behind, or anything really. Not that he needed to, anyways: The Circle exterminated all. Perhaps. The only thing that remained were regrets of the past, of memories forgotten in ennui and longing.
Perhaps. In Tenebrae comes Strepitus. Look up at the sky--can't you see it? And as NickEh30 ducked from the sound of lightning derooting oak, he took a final coup d'oeil at the interior of his resting place.The Circle was coming. It was here, at the intersection between idyll and oblivion, passivity and desperation, that NickEh30 first saw the sign.
"Welcome to Loot Lake"