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The HuntedThe Hunted
If there is an unwritten law in the Forest then it is this; Everything is Hunted. Even the Hunters themselves.
Crouched down by the base of a huge pine tree, his eyes darting around, alert and fearful, one young Hunter carefully scanned the Forest floor around him. His long, dirty hair covered his ears, but this did not stop him jumping at the sound of a twig snapping, which reverberated around the clearing before him. A primal instinct awakened inside of him. Quickly scouting for the source of the noise, he saw a clump of mossy foliage rustle on the opposite side of the clearing. Narrowing his eyes, he raised his spear, clutching at the claw shaped pendant hanging against his bare chest.
He briefly heard a small twang, and with a thud, something embedded itself into the bark of the tree, inches away form his head. Something very long and very sharp.
His eyes widened and faster than the arrow itself, he leapt up from his position and darted of into the Forest. Brushin
I Have A DreamI have a dream
All I could hear was the screaming the shouting
that one day this nation will rise up
Tires screeched. The engine roared. They were angry, more than angry, mad. We were helpless, trapped, burning up in the heat of fire and fear
and live out the true meaning of its creed
Scared and frightened, we ducked as stones and rocks smashed the glass above our heads. It cascaded upon us, like cold shards of their rage
We hold these truths to be self-evident
But we wouldnt give up. We had to fight them, to stand up for them. To make them see what they were doing was wrong. How our own society was wrong
that all men are created equal
But why were we being treated like this? All we were doing was riding a bus. I still remember the smell The burning rubber, the sweat, the smell of singed hair and flesh And the smell of raw anger
I have a drea
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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