A Post-Apocalyptic Diary By Willow Kang Liew Bei
i. The First Month Fires, cataclysmic raiders brought on by the shelling have grounded this terra into draconic bone not even the primordial oak trees survive, remnants of their bark scattered around what were once parks. The red spider lilies lay ashen in graves charred with similarly ambitious cherubims, & the skeletons of the artists still clutch rifles which we pry from them in death, will the emptiness relieve them or had the weight been a passing mourner? So, like the rightful monarchs before us, those pickaxe-wielding kings & queens in woven hats we mine for stardust from the powdered ruins of this cursed city then, with tender breaths, sweep the dust into animal biscuits. Wait for life to scuttle again
ii. The Second Month We freed the bunnies today from that unknowable tabula rasa of the cargo bay. Outside was a more unforgiving prairie where imperial carpets are red, dyed with blood, rubies cruelly pillaged from stardust. & as the bunnies journey they will find other smoldering lives, but in this country a civilization of creatures in eternal naivete, stampeding bunnies will finally overrun the killing fields
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