Tuesday’s Tale, 8/8/2017.

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Alright, another Tuesday; that means another five minutes on the clock.

Away we go:

This far, the Earthquake was minor. He didn’t have to worry about the crust of the Earth simply sliding out from under him or falling. No, he wasn’t like those poor souls still trapped farther West, his killer would likely be the ash, and it would be here in moments.

For a crucial moment, he stopped. Why should he bother? Escape was impossible, why not meet death on his terms?

But something in him said no; that as old and tired as he was, he could not give up. He put his terror-fueled second wind to use.

He had forgotten a killer. He was halfway down the Easternmost stairs, racing the few who had stayed behind as he had and those just now beginning to realize the awful reality when the barest remnants of a shockwave that had traveled thousands of miles knocked them all from their feet.

He managed to grab the guardrail in time but others were not as lucky. The screams began immediately and only gained volume. There was no time to stop, he knew. To stop, even to offer kindness, was to die. The only hope lay seaward.

And there you go, total time is four minutes and fifty-two seconds. See you next week.

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