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I tell stories
100 words, or sometimes more

The Shape of Things to Come

Baum knew, the bastard. He tried to warn us, but we didn’t listen.

And what’s left now? This scrap of land, surrounded by impassable, irradiated desert.

We few survivors, left as mockeries of evolution.

Once, someone set themselves up as a queen. So much strontium in her bones she could give you the sickness just by touching you. Didn’t last long – when you’re that reactive, water does you no favours.

I’ve got nothing to do but keep walking to the blast site… that city now made entirely of glass.

That, and wish I’d read more ‘Oz’ books as a kid.

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