Kuro's Meteor City

o “everything about him was old except for his eyes and they were the same color as the sea and were cheerful and undefeated.”

The lights of the town were veiled in darkness, a mere inverted shadow amidst the gloom of the night. Distant thunderings, as those brought to mind with Dies Irae or the distant chattering of a great blaze could be heard, drawing nigh upon the trembling hands of the people frantically seeking a shade for the lights that would soon propagate should their brilliance stretch to the skies, but found difficulty locating even their hands at arm’s length, due to the cloud over the town, in the streets, as real and thick as the blanket of golden and crimson extending toward the town at a propeller’s rate, silencing the natural beauty of the countryside amid the sounds of death and destruction.

A male, as had been all the others, and even through the skin of his face had caved in and flesh sagged loosely away from the bones of his blood-drained body, obviously youthful and handsome when alive.

As his eyes traced down her body, he savored them. Round. Shapely. Beautiful. She wasn't like the average woman his eyes had learned to glaze over on the streets, and in her difference there was beauty. A whole lot of beauty. Bennett couldn't help but stare, and he could see her fidgeting and twisting beneath his gaze. The dominant animal inside had that effect on people; it was why he was so effective at breaking grown men.

The Church, the smallest local mediator group composed by and of the populations most affluent citizens, used its monetary power to develop a homeopathic cure that seemingly handed over even more souls to the abyss. Around this time another cataclysmic event had ensued, an enormous hurricane that seemingly appeared in the midst of August. The storm, barely touching annihilated the shore and tore through fortified structures as effortlessly as dashing a line though a name. After several days the storm had finally regressed back in to the ocean returning to the depths of hades from which it had emerged leaving the island's infrastructure, geography, and ecosystem, further disfigured and crippled. The anomaly had been picked up by local meteorologist; they too just as baffled by the magnitude of the storm, they along with the local government recruit the help of a small independent cartography service who decided to send in the one of their newer servayors; Fynn Williams, a young Pennsylvania born man picked do to the rumors of pestilence and his seniority in the organization, is sent to the island of Abida to collect information pertaining to the islands newly altered

"He was the kind of man - powerful of body, even - tempered, and not

Books were marching together to bring the knowledge lost long ago. Rebirth of life can occur with the progress of freedom. They faced the city covered in ash, and full of curiosity. Montag thought of nothing but hope for brighter days; To accept what’s in the past. His mind running rapidly at full capacity, yet there’s still a fog. The aftermath? Montag and his group of once book burners continue into the distance wondering about every little detail of the rebirth. The city looked of nothing but motionless. It was silent. The only thing making noise was the winds from the bomb that went off hours ago. There were pieces of metal from the bomb lodged into the dirt in every direction. Montag slowly pauses af the sounds of foot

The smell of burning flesh is repugnant. It lingers on every street corner, on every piece of cloth, in every shallow breath. The sky is red. Glowing through black clouds that are heavy with the ashes of those who have stopped screaming. More than three thousand tonnes of high explosive bombs are dropped. Again. Again. Again. Just like dust caught in a sunbeam, the ash swirls a slow descent. The air pulls in. Pauses. Pressure building. The blood in your veins almost recoils, your brain bruised in your skull. A moment of vertigo. Then nothing but noise. Loud. Angry. Ringing. And pain, so much pain. Screams rise, the crescendo approaches. Hellfire rips through the buildings, the sky, the people, your heart. This city is a firestorm.

Softly shuddering, the cliff trembles in terror of the thunder overhead, ocean water gushing in great geysers, azure foam frothing like the mouth of a rabid dog, eating at the base of the cliff. Lashing tendrils of smoke and ash, still smelling of burnt flesh began darting through the air. Black suffocating smoke from an old fire; little devils dancing in the breeze, the noxious fumes smothering all who stood in its presence. Thunder screamed overhead, small explosions echoing off of the cliff, the precipice teetering and swaying like a drunkard. A shock of light colliding with a tree on the edge of the forest, heartlessly spewing sparks; electric whips searching for new victims. The opaque bush igniting in flame, revealing the violet eyes

A city disappearing in one night and never found ever since sounds suspicious. Where could

It was long ago, the Earth was covered in ice. Before, life on Earth was prosperous. The people sang and danced while eating a plethora of foods. Then, with a sudden burst of cold air, the snow came. Once, there was a city called Babintok or, the city of sins. This city was nestled in the middle of a vast desert. The people there were evil and did not worship any god.

Dozens of boys fought each other in the harsh sun” (Baldwin 1151). In this city of hardship and apathy, the rockpile serves to offer much need emotional stability to the victorious child.. Furthermore,

To begin, in the first part of the story, a city called Omelas and its inhabitants are described as one happy community, but a negative connotation on the city and its people is implied as the story progresses.”They

The city wants to get revenge against them. The city is in a space, its abandoned, and has no people living on it, being in space represents vastness, darkness, evil, and death, which is everything the story

Leorio was still in very good shape, the muscles in his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt whenever he reached for something, but he looked a little skinnier, a little paler, his black hair grown out some. He had swapped out his small, round shades for a pair of thin, square-framed reading glasses, and Kurapika couldn’t help but think how they make Leorio look even older than he already did, more dignified somehow, like a particularly bad-tempered professor. He was still sporting his trademark patchy scruff, and there were freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, very light, but absolutely