HEL MORT®

In a time long forgotten, in a realm untouched by the ordinary laws of time and space, there existed a community of extraordinary creatures. These beings, akin to peculiar monkeys yet adorned with six arms reminiscent of insects, possessed a remarkable gift for telepathic communication. Their lives were woven around a magnificent tree, a source of sustenance and sanctuary.

Dubbed simply as "the folk," they flourished in harmonious coexistence upon the boughs of this enchanted tree for centuries. Initially, the tree bestowed its bounty generously, yielding three fruits for each inhabitant every lunar cycle. But as their numbers multiplied, the fruits became scarce, rationed to a mere one per creature.

Determined to restore abundance, a notable member of their midst embarked upon a daring endeavor. Through the artful grafting and nurturing of other flora, they succeeded in coaxing the tree into yielding its plentiful fruits once more. This newfound abundance brought a fleeting sense of tranquility and security to the community.

Yet, the specter of overpopulation loomed ominously. Once spacious branches now groaned under the weight of their crowded inhabitants, perilously close to collapse. Enter another figure of significance, a culinary virtuoso, who intervened with boundless creativity. With ingenious solutions, they expanded living quarters, fortified branches, and bolstered fruit production.

Despite their valiant efforts, the relentless tide of population growth could not be stemmed. With each solution devised, the community swelled, stretching the limits of their arboreal abode beyond its breaking point. Tragically, on a somber day etched in memory, the inevitable came to pass. The burden of the overcrowded branches proved too great, and with a thunderous roar, the mighty tree succumbed, claiming the lives of all who dwelled within its embrace.

And thus concludes the poignant tale of these fantastical beings, their existence transcending the ordinary bounds of time and space, forever etched in the annals of a forgotten realm.

𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑻𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚…💀

Long ago, in a forsaken countryside, there dwelled a lizard who, with each passing day, would implore the sun, "Pray tell, why does the moon prance alone amidst the myriad stars, whilst you, in contrast, fail to waltz with the clouds and winds of the earth?"

In that same distant countryside, there resided a small black dog who, with every dawn, would beseech his tail, "Why dost thou sway when I am merry, yet flee when fear grips my soul?"

And long ago, within the confines of a solitary radio station nestled deep in the heart of Wyoming, there lingered a lone man whose daily broadcast fell upon deaf ears, for the cataclysm of the last nuclear war had laid waste to all inhabitants of the world. He, the sole remaining mortal amidst a vast expanse of scarlet sands, would grasp a handful of grains each day, relinquishing them to the radioactive winds, pondering, "Why do they not heed my words?" But lo, one day, a tuatara, an ancient desert lizard, offered a whisper of wisdom, "Have you ever truly listened to their silence?" Thus, the man descended into despair, his knife carving his flesh until his form dissolved into sinew and bone. The blazing sun of the desert bore witness as his body, consumed by flames, metamorphosed into a pallid orb of skeletal remains. After seven days, the orb cracked open like an egg, giving birth not to the man he once was, but to a new being, a butterfly fashioned from dreams, desires, and the unspoken yearnings of those who love in silence. As an asteroid obliterated the corpulent effigy of a matronly figure, the newfound creature radiated with renewed vigor, soaring above the scorched earth not in search of listeners, but in pursuit of the simple joys of existence.

Long ago, a lizard perished in a lonesome countryside.

Once upon a time, in a realm veiled from mortal sight, dwelled a populace unseen to the naked eye.

In this ethereal enclave, resided a figure cloaked in invisibility, burdened by a perplexity. The denizens conversed in whispers of invisibility, their discourse devoid of coherence or permanence, akin to wisps of mist in the moonlight. When two unseen figures would chance upon one another, instead of customary greetings, they would murmur, "The sun is." Such hollow phrases, bereft of color or substance. Determined to unravel the mystery shrouding his kind, the unseen youth embarked on a clandestine quest.

Venturing beyond the veiled borders of his domain, he stumbled upon an arcane tome, its pages whispering secrets of yore. These unseen beings were once flesh and blood, but in the wake of a tempest of violence and strife, they chose to forsake words deemed offensive. Initially purging their lexicon of profanities, they soon realized that any word evoking difference birthed discord and disunion. Thus, they excised all such terms. Yet, the malaise persisted, for the very act of opinionation kindled conflict. Each dissenting view birthed allies and adversaries alike, prompting the eradication of all opinions. Thus, their discourse dwindled into an abyss of emptiness, fading into obscurity until it vanished altogether, rendering both word and speaker unseen.

Armed with newfound insight, the unseen protagonist returned to his clandestine realm, resolved to effect change. Summoning every ounce of his spectral essence, he bellowed, "Opinions are the hues that paint our identities! It is in the expression of these divergent shades that we find true vitality! Let not fear shroud your voices, for it is our opinions that grant us substance! Hearts beat within us, yearning to articulate! Embrace your truths and let them resound!" Yet, as his words echoed through the ethereal expanse, a pall of dread descended. Without a word, the invisible multitude ensnared him, dragging and drowning his spectral form into the murky depths of an invisible abyss, where he would remain unseen for all eternity.

Yes!