Sagas, Short story, Weekend

In the distance.

A gaze on the horizon in times of strife and war.

To look out and see what comes from strange and distant shores.

And horror lies there to be seen through the lens of the looking glass.

Of fire and blood of screams and gore of terrors to the soul.

But the looking glass sees not what is, instead what so soon will be.

 

 

 

 

A prompt response.

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