Hel Mort 6l5f67

🔴 (FRIDAY TALE) 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑭𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆 1dm2o

Long ago, in a forsaken countryside, there dwelled a lizard who, with each ing day, would implore the sun, "Pray tell, why does the moon prance alone amidst the myriad stars, whilst you, in contrast, fail to waltz with the clouds and winds of the earth?"

In that same distant countryside, there resided a small black dog who, with every dawn, would beseech his tail, "Why dost thou sway when I am merry, yet flee when fear grips my soul?"

And long ago, within the confines of a solitary radio station nestled deep in the heart of Wyoming, there lingered a lone man whose daily broadcast fell upon deaf ears, for the cataclysm of the last nuclear war had laid waste to all inhabitants of the world. He, the sole remaining mortal amidst a vast expanse of scarlet sands, would grasp a handful of grains each day, relinquishing them to the radioactive winds, pondering, "Why do they not heed my words?" But lo, one day, a tuatara, an ancient desert lizard, offered a whisper of wisdom, "Have you ever truly listened to their silence?" Thus, the man descended into despair, his knife carving his flesh until his form dissolved into sinew and bone. The blazing sun of the desert bore witness as his body, consumed by flames, metamorphosed into a pallid orb of skeletal remains. After seven days, the orb cracked open like an egg, giving birth not to the man he once was, but to a new being, a butterfly fashioned from dreams, desires, and the unspoken yearnings of those who love in silence. As an asteroid obliterated the corpulent effigy of a matronly figure, the newfound creature radiated with renewed vigor, soaring above the scorched earth not in search of listeners, but in pursuit of the simple joys of existence.

Long ago, a lizard perished in a lonesome countryside.

Long ago, a dog met its end in a solitary countryside.

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