LOGINNow everything is changing...with everyone of us sweeping under the carpet the scars of yesterday's sins. Those scars are what kept me alive until you are all born to hear the story. The world government was powerful and taking advantage of the human colonial minds, they buried our freedom and equity. But now that we the Elites whom they educated and rose to revolts against the fingers that had fed us... What do you call it? Oh! yes they had termed it Rebellion. They did call us rebels, for seeking a small ration part of the best that nature has given to mankind. Al-sural-tu-Nas. This for mankind, tell ye that the beast you trained in the dark had turned to an angel in the day. We are filled from the pot of lies now that our bellies cannot contain what they obtain, the promises that were compromised, treaties that were breached, least they covered the black mails and lies with a blanket of Diplomacy. But now is the snatch of the gallon beer from the drunkard because now there is what when diplomacy fails.....is war. "Now we are free." Later in the future a seed germinates bearing fruits of the YESTERDAYS as she possess the abilities to time travel and set broken pieces together but this has consequences in the future of mankind. Read along
View MoreThe blood moon rose like an omen, swollen and red, casting a harsh glow through the thin curtains of Thelma’s home. The children were asleep, or so she believed, but the silence in the house was not peaceful. It was thick with tension—as though even the walls held their breath.Thelma stood before the mirror, no longer flinching at what stared back. Her eyes now carried the glow of embers, faint but steady, like a coal that refused to die. Her skin, once soft and bronze, had developed scale-like textures along her shoulder blades. It itched where wings longed to sprout.She whispered to her reflection, “Tonight, the tale changes.”Downstairs, a door creaked.She turned sharply.It was Saint. Awake again. Watching her.“Momma,” he said, “someone is here.”The knock came before she could speak. Slow. Measured. Deliberate.Thelma stepped away from Saint and descended the stairs. Her heartbeat no longer raced in moments like these. It slowed. It focused.She opened the door.A woman stood
The moon was full the night Thelma dreamt of blood.It was the kind of night where everything whispered. The air seemed to carry secrets and the trees danced to a wind that had no rhythm. Thelma lay still in bed, Saint curled beside her, his tiny hands tucked beneath his cheek. The cold of Britain did not reach her; her dreams were warmer, yet not comforting. They were too alive. Too loud.She saw flames. Not just fire, but blue fire, licking the skies like it had a mind of its own. And in its heart, a dragon—not just any, but one with scales that shimmered like obsidian and eyes that carried her reflection.She stood barefoot in the sand of a blood-soaked field, her hands covered in ashes and claw marks. Screams echoed around her, but none were from her lips. Her mouth was sealed by some ancient vow she had forgotten, yet her body remembered every syllable.Then it came—the shadow figure.She had seen him once before. In another dream. Or was it in the eyes of Alex, the preacher? Or
The moon was full the night Thelma dreamt of blood.It was the kind of night where everything whispered. The air seemed to carry secrets and the trees danced to a wind that had no rhythm. Thelma lay still in bed, Saint curled beside her, his tiny hands tucked beneath his cheek. The cold of Britain did not reach her; her dreams were warmer, yet not comforting. They were too alive. Too loud.She saw flames. Not just fire, but blue fire, licking the skies like it had a mind of its own. And in its heart, a dragon—not just any, but one with scales that shimmered like obsidian and eyes that carried her reflection.She stood barefoot in the sand of a blood-soaked field, her hands covered in ashes and claw marks. Screams echoed around her, but none were from her lips. Her mouth was sealed by some ancient vow she had forgotten, yet her body remembered every syllable.Then it came—the shadow figure.She had seen him once before. In another dream. Or was it in the eyes of Alex, the preacher? Or
I found myself creeping in the lab room where the general was keeping the rest of the army, these were humans of my kind whom have been captured during the transportation into the new world where they had lied to us was a paradise where they lived and where our greater God lived. I had all had these things they said about paradise in our head and that all we could think of was to be there someday to see with our own eyes before the cold hands of death laid upon us, but from a first hand account I am telling you these people are no good. They had lied to us all along about promising future somewhere over board when we reached our destination, but unknown to us that we were never going to reach our destination any day from now. From a first hand account I could tell you that this people from the over seas were no good kinds, they had taken us to be what we never knew that we would become. Now we were slaves to them and they were masters to my kinds.The lights in the lab room was turned
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