Mellow leaves afar,
Moonlight sheens on silver trunk,
Late night winds soft.
About the Creator
Bacon
Satan, laughing, spreads his wings. He launches into an atmosphere riddled with smoke, soot, and ash. He feels the radiation from a thousand fallen nukes. For humanity, it’s certain death. For him, it’s like bathing in a sauna. He laughs again at the thought.
By C. Rommial Butlerabout 22 hours ago in Fiction
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