I've had that dream again.
That strange place, so distant, yet so close to my heart. Buildings as tall as mountains.
Dead structures, watching with dead eyes. Empty, vast and endless honeycombs of stone and steel. Air filled with gray ashes, always fluttering from the cloudy sky.
The black vortex opens up in the sky, descending down to the city. The vortex spiral rips the city apart, bending the air itself, feasting on light, feasting on time.
There is a lonely figure standing in the street.
No matter how hard I try to make out his or her expression, I cannot. Is there no face there at all? Or perhaps there is a million human faces there
Anomalous Objects Catalogue chapter 1 by alexiuss, literature
Literature
Anomalous Objects Catalogue chapter 1
"I hear Pripyat is pleasant this time of year."
Sniper stood watch, just outside the old travel agency building. Aside from somehow withstanding the rest of the block collapsing around it, the shop was impressive for having reasonably preserved brochures. Captain and Pilot would often amuse themselves by planning trips to countries that no longer existed, and Engineer would gather what they discarded for kindling. Whenever Sniper grew sufficiently bored, he'd call out with something he thought was witty.
It was a bit like that, being on watch; you'd either say something funny and die knowing your sense of humour was too good for this world,