The InheritanceIt was clear to me at an early age that the man I called “Father” was not in fact my dad. Although I never got to know who he really was, I had my suspicions that he may have been a great uncle or grandfather. He was clearly related to me by blood, but his reclusive nature and his tendency to avoid the subject meant that I never found out anything more. Still, as cold and impersonal as he was, he was powerful figure in my life and a very moral man.The Inheritance
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When the sky fell in 2010, I watched the few friends my father had go from being flourishing businessmen to street urchins overnight. Father had his own reserve of cash, but his friends refused to even ask, not that he would be willing to lend it to them them. It took several years afterward for me to understand why, but until then I simply assumed he was selfish and callous, which was only reinforced by the emotionless way he had raised me.
I had no T.V., no computer, no books. We didn't go
Wasteland That's it... I'm dreaming. Why must I dream? These images that come before me are not ones I want to see. Spanning out in all directions, this wasteland.... it's so familiar, to me. I don't know why but it feels hostile to me. I once belonged here I think, the kukkari say, but I don't any more and I can't walk away. Wasteland
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And as I gaze, and I gaze away, I see glimpses of corpses, all dead and arrayed. Beasts long dead, Beasts dead new, humans who died, people I knew. These are the bodies that are all kukkaru, they died through the ages, land air and sea. Here, in this land, the Wasteland I see, they fall upon themselves, forever eternally.
Among them, there are the plants that no longer thrive. They lay withered and tithered upon the ground unalive. So clickity do, clickity dee, not even a single ray of sun will they see. I now know that I am in the world of the Dead, Wasteland where t