- Joined
- Sep 24, 2010
- Messages
- 3,023
I sway outside. I feel the sun's gentle touch on my bare face as its invisible, joy bringing arms wrap around my shoulders and indulge me so dearly like only a lover could. The Sun! The kind, heavenly creator... only a distant dream now, time to let it go...
The growling wakes me up, though I don't wish to have another odious piece of roach-innard, at least not for breakfast. I quickly shovel in the moldy algaebread from yesterday and head outside the grotto. The cherished, unappreciated dream, stolen from old books, still lurks inside my mind, but disintegrates instantly as I look up to the grim sky. I'm blinking behind my scratched goggles, a family heirloom, but the sun is nowhere to be found, hides itself above the heavy greyish clouds which constantly drifts around like a bad omen.
They say, that it was different once. Before the cursed great winter the sun was always present, lightly petted the earth, helped it to be green and vivid. Hmm, child's tale... who cares about that anymore?
Back to work, those roaches won't herd themselves. It is bad enough that they get smaller and smaller with each calving. Great-grandma' said they are almost as small as a goat now, whatever beast that may be?!
It starts to snow. Beefy snowflakes cover my lead hood, like a hundred glowworms as I swiftly drive the herd towards the protective den. The lustrous flakes are scorching small dimples into the chitin of the bugs as they fall on them, some of the youngsters shrill as the undeveloped cuirass is penetrated. I half-heartedly look away when one of them drops dead. But my common sense conquer my distaste, I gab the carcass and drag it inside. When I pull my knife from its sheath and search for the armors weakspot on the belly with a callous heart, only one thing hovers in front of my eyes: protein is protein after all! Doesn't matter from where it comes.
The knife is 24 cm long, the blade is 11.5 cm long, 34 mm wide and 6 mm thick, forged of 5160 and S80. The handle is copper and antler. Its sheath is made of thick cowhide with copper.
Hope, other survivors will like it too
The growling wakes me up, though I don't wish to have another odious piece of roach-innard, at least not for breakfast. I quickly shovel in the moldy algaebread from yesterday and head outside the grotto. The cherished, unappreciated dream, stolen from old books, still lurks inside my mind, but disintegrates instantly as I look up to the grim sky. I'm blinking behind my scratched goggles, a family heirloom, but the sun is nowhere to be found, hides itself above the heavy greyish clouds which constantly drifts around like a bad omen.
They say, that it was different once. Before the cursed great winter the sun was always present, lightly petted the earth, helped it to be green and vivid. Hmm, child's tale... who cares about that anymore?
Back to work, those roaches won't herd themselves. It is bad enough that they get smaller and smaller with each calving. Great-grandma' said they are almost as small as a goat now, whatever beast that may be?!
It starts to snow. Beefy snowflakes cover my lead hood, like a hundred glowworms as I swiftly drive the herd towards the protective den. The lustrous flakes are scorching small dimples into the chitin of the bugs as they fall on them, some of the youngsters shrill as the undeveloped cuirass is penetrated. I half-heartedly look away when one of them drops dead. But my common sense conquer my distaste, I gab the carcass and drag it inside. When I pull my knife from its sheath and search for the armors weakspot on the belly with a callous heart, only one thing hovers in front of my eyes: protein is protein after all! Doesn't matter from where it comes.
The knife is 24 cm long, the blade is 11.5 cm long, 34 mm wide and 6 mm thick, forged of 5160 and S80. The handle is copper and antler. Its sheath is made of thick cowhide with copper.
Hope, other survivors will like it too
