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Day One Thousand One Hundred Sixteen #DiaryoftheEndoftheWorld

Strange things mark this day. (None, however, were the sign to trigger Tomas’s departure).

The sun came up and promised to lend a cheeriness by its presence. But in its rise it did not dispel the darkness overhead. There were no clouds, but something hung there as if there were.

The blackness turned to a dark purple, that then lowered onto us like a fog of a similar hue.

It raised a great consternation among the guards, one of whom scurried about distributing gas masks. Forcing us to don them also.

Tomas swept in with word that nothing was toxic or otherwise harmful in the fog. Then took us back into the megapolis to be closer to the Supreme Commander.

About rwoz2

Poet, historian, writer for stage and screen. Responder to Jesus (Romans 5:8)

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