When the moon used to get this bright and clear I used to worry that werewolves would get me. I am merely a product of the television generation.
Standing on the roof of one of the dishes, staring at the Rani vaguely lit by only the moon, I get chills and it clouds my mind. Their eyes seem to glow; reflecting all that is from above. An echo from their former lives? Brightness; a symbol of hope. But in truth? I really think there is nothing of them left. Their lifeless eyes see nothing but food...
I hope you make another day
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