Your party looks out on the ruins of a city that once was, but no longer is, the same city you left behind, you think. There is a hint of familiarity to the twisted, atomically-charred remains of buildings and vehicles that surround you. At your feet is the bullet-hole-riddled corpse of one of the alien invaders. Its bug eyes stare out blankly from beneath the bloated brain. A serrated scimitar is grasped in its rigid hand. The half-buried remains of the flying saucer loom above, casting a shadow on the party and the body. It stands on-edge, as if cutting into the very Earth beneath.
Beyond the derelict spaceship, the girders of once-mighty buildings reach feebly for the sky with blackened skeletal fingers limned with the rust of ages. A few unfamiliar structures, which can be seen at a distance, remain at least partially intact. Twisted metal and strange, wild plants - some of enormous size - create patches of steel and leaf jungle, while other stretches remain free of everything but litter, crushed glass, and a few small weeds growing through cracks in the pavement, just as you remember them from your youth.
Some things never change.
Some things are of little consolation.
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"Some things never change" and "some things are of little consolation". These two sentences elaborate all. And this is what this life is all about. Nice share and keep up the good work. thanks!
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