

AntoniusIAntonius
The last weeks of the Harvest season, Southern Steppe, Punaija.
The winds were blowing in from the south. Fine sand particulates and minerals from the resource rich southern lands were riding on the breezes, settling on, and embedding within the freshly disturbed soil. Over the next few months, through the late year rains, bitter freezes, and Planting season thaw, these minerals would revitalize the steppe soil allowing for bountiful harvests and continue to provide a staple to the men and woman who call these flat plains home. Tinallo RaShahla leaned heavily on his spear as he looked out over t


Post Apocalypse: Chap. 1_1Chapter OnePost Apocalypse: Chap. 1_1
Rapublica - capital city of the Republic of Humana - one year after the Feldon Civil Conflict, fifty years ago.
The day grew late; evening commuters were close to finishing their treks to their places of dwelling and residence. The setting sun cast a dark orange glow on offices and hallways with open curtains and blinds. Nightly janitorial staff began their opening forays into offices, emptying waste baskets, straightening ajar furniture that careless power brokers and corporate drones left behind during the day. Security guards manually voice checked their comms systems and flicked through several channe
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clubs: *christians *100ThemeChallengers =indiephotographyclub =theskyclub
you + clik = donate a Bible for free
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"Being an author is like being in charge of your own personal insane asylum." ~Graycie Harmon
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P.A. Patriots: Setting a higher standard.
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