Dreams always bad. Wastelands as far as the eyes can see. Sun too bright to bear. Everyone dead or dying. Only myself standing alone in front of the empty world as the heat bakes the sand into my skin, hair, everything.
I am nothing more than the last man standing.
I am become a History Man.
Never dreamed of darkness unending. Never been in world where everything feels
wrong for reasons got nothing to do with medications from doctors. Strange days. Alls need is to drive. Hit The Road. Been ordered to stay put. Cargo can't be lost due to crazed weather or a world gone mad as myself. Things more valuable than me. Do understand. Don't like it, but understand. Why this to come about now? Everything changing. Everything black. Storms upon storms yet none carrying sand. What happened to the sand? Red as blood and sharp as glass when it hits the skin. Hot. A world of fire and damnation yet this?
Nothing but blackness.
Even the lightning strikes black.
Is it a sign? Is it my sickness?
Or is it only all of us are damned?
This world is Hell and now we will know it?
Too many questions. No answers. Everything is wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrongwrongwro