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Le Monde de L'Écriture » Encore plus loin dans l'écriture ! » Textes non francophones » The last of men's fire

Auteur Sujet: The last of men's fire  (Lu 286 fois)

Hors ligne Félix

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The last of men's fire
« le: 20 mars 2024 à 13:45:53 »
     I had a nightmare last night. I dreamt of Europe set on fire by a single massive nuclear weapon. I woke up in the middle of nowhere, the place was a huge and flat field. The soil was harsh ground, and the whole air was filled by a strange and heavy yellow fog. It was terrifying. I was alone in an infinite-looking radiation hell. I could feel the toxic and putrid smell. I felt myself immersed in a thick haze far from everything. I could see the wandering ghouls of all the lost souls, standing with nothing. Their skin was ripped, and slashed. Their flesh was naked, their eyes empty of any consciousness— their look vanished in the void. I didn’t want to face them, they scared me, I felt threatened by their only presence. They were a few ones, scattered to melting in the horizon.

All Europe was nothing but this corrupted Venus-like landscape. No cities, no forests, nor any lakes, roads or plants. Everything was crushed. The only weak standing reliefs being the Alps flattened by the weight of the gases. Everything, from Spain to Belarus, was shattered, wiped off, completely annihilated. All this part of the world, an entire continent of a whole planet of the universe, entirely destroyed in the deadliest chaos of a single nuclear warhead—in the last, of men’s fire.
« Modifié: 05 avril 2024 à 12:27:18 par Félix »


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