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Skies of the Past

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Waves crash along the shoreline, big and thunderous splashes shake the Earth. I breathe in the air, it's fresh and free . . . and cold. Thrusting my head up, I force myself to look at the darkening sky. Black clouds cover the small sunshine left.
I'm walking barefoot on the sand, bits of hard rock stick between my toes - sharp and painful with each step I take. The sun is setting a strange purple color as the air turns misty. It's hard to breathe now, the wind has stopped and I'm walking alone. Just walking. Walking between the clashing waves and dry piercing sand - to where . . . I don't know.




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