927'S left hand disappeared again today.
He looked down at the pale pink virus lines on his arms, and listened to the sound of the white fox's illusion light spots exploding under the cliff - it was his companions reporting to him that he was safe.
When he escaped from the laboratory three years ago, he thought "living" was the end. Until the gryphon stuffed wild flowers stained with blood into his hands, the giant python made a soft bed for him in the swamp, the song of the sea sharks filled the river bank, and the poisonous powder of the butterfly bloomed purple flowers on his wounds.
It turns out that after "living", there can still be sunshine and sugar. A group of people said: "You don't have to hold on all the time."
This is a survival diary of experimental subjects, about hatred, about reconciliation, about writing "us" as "home" on the ruins.
Original, an episode from my own OC world, don't comment if you don't like it, the writing is a bit bad, just share and record it
Purpose: Planting light in the ruins - How do people who have been abandoned by the world use each other's scars to piece together a "home"