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Mutants

Updated: Aug 11, 2023

"A land of sewers and rot, the world of the mutant was uncharacteristic, indeed. No one had seen it coming, as life had simply wasted away. The people, once fair and desirable, were now an undulating horde of grotesque monsters, evil and piggish, with their anonymity decided. The wasteland was filled with hate, but the mutants did trudge by, anxious for their next gluttonous affair.


There were so many problems. The world around them did starve away, fools carried not their truths, and all who sung justly were forbidden their desires for freedom. The world was flat, and everywhere rung out the stench of cacophonous sounds. Fake voices, whistling and cutting through the air, unaware of any fervors or passions of any other man. Pure selfishness ruled.


The mutants had grown from the sewers, and the rot, bred in front of glowing lamps and inundated with bile and wretchedness at a young age. Their world was pure, and they drove around in steel cages, powered by blood, singing the praises of themselves and the unmasculine. Their look was muddled and grotesque, as they ignored such treacheries and claimed obedience.


Wriggling and weak, these monsters did rise above their own selfishness and adore each other, at least in mimicry. All was the same, and the sinuous tentacles did soothe each other with great monstrosity and affection. No one knew differently, and these horrible things, these mutants once people, carried themselves around in swarms.


Great swarms- angry, adulating, grotesque mimicries of the long-ago human race. Chanting in idyllic fashion and carrying on the gross murmurs of their false voices. Lying scathingly, for the sneer of being caught with no repercussion. For no one knew the truth. And no one could know it.


These unfathomable monsters, all headed for a frightening, unknown abyss from which not one of them could escape. Leering, crudely hidden in their cages, finding no level of antipathy unthinkable for their neighbor. The siren imitation, blaring across the wasteland of the mutant, as they drove from one sewer to the next, picking up crude merchandise.


All life had ended to the blaring noises, the ugliness, and the hatred of the mutant swarm. There was nothing left, and no one cared. Because no one could.


A dark cloud came and rid the world of the mutant swarm. The mutants of the wasteland had wanted all to die, but the darkness had come, and the mutants had gone wanting. For all was not theirs to give."















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About the Author

My name is Zachary Fretz Mayer.  I see the the world as a vast and mysterious place, full of danger and hidden clues.  These writings help me share that with the world.

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