Not Last part of Tomiro's Book

Sunday 99:th of Novaettir 2048

You think tonight is the last day of Novaettir, ready for Dreamember. This used to be when human beings put up their christmas creatures, before Yezuz came and helped some escape to Triton from Tellus here. Still you breath easy, Tomiro, while your organs seems better designed to digest plastic materia, plus transform petrol into wood. Under a rusty wheel you've found our christmas cardboard calendar from 1988. Every window lid has been opened, but no Santa nor vaettir remains inside. Anyhow, since you gladly met Uncle Timolas once more, we're full of hope that Dreamember becomes a less lonely time.





Sunday 92:nd of Novaettir 2048

Today you discovered the biggest graveyard in whole postSweden. Behind some stoneblocks the administrators had paste real photographs, frozen into paper, for curious creatures like you. Most motives were captured 2024, just before humanity began to die over escalating places. We watched you watch everyday streets, so extremely crowded with people that they must touch each others clothes. One photo zoomed on a police-doctor being trampled to death, by boygangs who were gunfighting over some piece of electronic gold. Outside the wall you supersurprised bumped into Uncle Timolas! Smiling you shaked hands, almost shamefully, like last survivors of empty town.







alltjämt ett par Historier gjorda av Hundra Ord

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