This week, Lillie chose the word "Shadows." Some shadows are forever.
It isn't possible—or at the very least, it shouldn't be possible—but it is.
So powerful was its blast, that when the light first struck, frozen shadows painted on walls and sidewalks became permanent reminders of the dead who once stood in those exact spots.
The people were gone, forever shattered into innumerable pieces of ash, yet their silent silhouette remained, giving grim testimony to the raw power unleashed in the wake of the atom’s sundering.
Godlike power: the power to destroy a world—our world—had been ushered into being by men of science, who, like the good men they are, tried only to bring an end to the War—an end to the suffering and death—but in their callousness failed to realize that all they had done was to create a new form of devastation the likes of which no man had ever seen or contemplated.
This all happened a lifetime ago; yet we still live under the specter of those painted shadows—and forever will they chill our soul.