
queckcapizrt
@queckcapizrt
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The ground was soft, yet ancient.
Each watermelon at his feet pulsed,
not with sweetness,
but with the heartbeat of something buried long ago.
This was no harvest.
This was a reckoning.
The windmill behind him stood like a broken sentinel,
and the sky hung low with the weight of forgotten vows.
There had been ten once,
ten fruits grown from forbidden seed,
watered with betrayal,
guarded by silence.
He knelt.
Not in prayer,
but in acknowledgment.
The land remembered.
Now he must, too.
Steel in hand,
eyes on the horizon darkening with ash and omen,
he whispered not to gods,
but to the roots beneath his feet:
I'm looking for 10 Watermelon on /farville 🧑🌾 3 replies
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