In the early hours of the morning, the earth trembled with a force reminiscent of forgotten wars. The tremors, recorded at 7.1 on the Richter scale, swept across the forgotten valleys, leaving behind a narrative of tremulous scars.
As I stood atop the crumbling cliffs, I felt the whispers of the ground beneath, each vibration a voice speaking in tongues of urgency.
An assembly of geologists has descended upon the site, their minds entangled in equations and theories. Yet, despite the data and diagrams, an enigma remains unearthed.
Is it folly to seek logic in the voice of the earth? Their beacons of knowledge shimmer dimly in the face of ancient fury.
Echoes UnderfootResidents recount tales of dreams interrupted by the ground's protest. The elderly speak of omens, while the youth chase adrenaline amid the chaos.
In their eyes, I see reflections of my own existential quake. We are all pitiful voyagers on a ship of dirt, adrift in the cosmos.
Transient Souls