Anarchy
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Jul 11 2002
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Anarchy Prologue Everything is dead. The cold wind searches out every hole, nook and cranny, and penetrates deeply into the wreckage. Anybody would think that this was in the bleak north of Russia, not sunny San Francisco. The fog, rolling in from the vast immensity that is the Pacific Ocean, engulfs the collapsed Golden Gate Bridge, its once gleaming red colour now a rusty orange. As the fog drifts majestically over the rest of the city that once dreams were made of, a temporary veil is drawn over the dead metropolis. The fog reaches out further than ever before and with its long arm seems to entirely cover the whole of the lifeless city. A lucky squirrel scampers up and over the neglected giant redwood trees in the neighbouring Muir Woods. His home has been destroyed along with millions more of his type and others. Running along the dead tree the...


