In the land of purple

I will tell you a short story! It all began in a purple place, where dynamite grew on the trees. It was a magical land where people didn’t know what out meant to be safe. The very land was poison, purple from times long past. Old explosives fed the trees to give fruit to some bombs. Every day hundreds of peopledied in vain, cause their ancestors were greedy and someone had to pay.

An old man lived in a bunker. He had grey hair and blue eyes with which he barely saw anything, but his large ears could detect even the ever so slight sound. This was remarkable for an man who lived in a land where explosions were not only common place, but an hourly routine. It was a necessity to survive he always said. 

Kaboom! One day a huge explosion teared through the sky. It was a big one the old man thought as he could not see the flash of sudden, intense light. It vaporated him almost in an instant. The last thing he heard was the nasty sound of forces tearing through the land, the sound of his doom.

“Of course!”, was the last thing he thought.

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