fallaxfelicitas

  The cold winter forest laid deathly silent. Tall lanky pines, with gargantuan oaks jutting out of the snow and towards the sky as if they were the last death throws of the land before the winter came and blanketed the landscape.  Yet still, there were signs of life. Deep within the bowels of an immense white oak, that appeared to have long since given up its reign of life over the trees around it, small armored insects scuttled about.   The moist, warm soil was full of life. And the great oak's outer walls seemed to not only hold their resilience in death, but also keep the harsh cold and winds from the outside from tainting the warmth

The sun scorched the desert in the trailing winds of the massive machine as it barreled down what was left of the highway. Eighteen wheels and an engine of massive power, where the only sounds were the rattlings of windshields and electro-polymorphic panels that had long since lost their charge, seemingly just barely able to hold on to form the shape of what appeared to be a gas-tanker. The most ecologically inefficient aspect of the machine was the cigar in the lips of the fat grunt in the driver's seat; farting, exhaling, and laughing merrily as he drove through the heat, unbothered by the sun that had drawn closer to the earth in the past