The pillar of fiery smoke and dust, boiling up from where the bombs have been going off far underground, violently agitating at the bottom. With a great gush of flames rising, through the deafening roar of the fire, mayhem of the sirens and alarms buzzing in everyone’s ears. Super-power countries: commenced a hot-war. Viewing the toxic clouds of everyone’s lives disintegrating would be frightening.
Chaos descending: menace, madness, and confusion continuing. People running ahead periodically scouting for help. Rotting, the dead bodies would be left in the open. Bleeding, people would seem to have gone pale and gaunt, with purple gashes forming on their foreheads, and blood coating as well as flowing thickly over their fingers. Survivors, on the other hand, would be disconsolate and without hope; losing their loved ones, sorrow diminishing everyone physically. Burying faces in their hands, sobbing quietly, it would be unable to hold in the great tide of their emotions. Shocked in agony and semi-blindness amid a chaos. As the beginning to recover consciousness: gnawing hunger, famishing, rumbling stomach, feeling of being light-headed and shaky. Hunger being ever-present; from dawn to dusk. No one caring if the food would be delicious or varied, just it can stave off the pains a while.
Young children would become spiritless first, their eyes dulling, and hair thinning. They would no longer play or laugh, but looking serious and sitting still, conserving their energy. With their heads throbbing from concussions, their hearts would feel like bursting out of their chests. Becoming too brisk; their mouths dry due to the scarcity of water for the reason it was overly consumed in the past few years; there would be no water other than a trickle among some salt-encrusted boulders which also dried out occasionally. Days would be passing by like shadows-waning like the edges of the moon. Drifting by like the endless stream of watching survivors lying on roads, all homeless. Nights would grow lonely; darkness seeming to suck the day dry of its essence. These people would not escape their lives; they would be left as a generation of slaves. Slaves not to superpower countries, but to life; poverty and hunger their master, one which they would never be able to break away.
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