slagheap misstree a bomb went off, once, and the fire inside was enough to scorch clean fertile earth and the toxins it spread mutated life for miles around and outside that area life goes on much as it always has but visitors, sometimes they don't know, sometimes they wander to the wrong place, sometimes they disappear, dragged down by twisted hands to feed ragged maws that know nothing but aftermath. 070411 ... marked . 070411 ... somebody grimacing 070411 what's it to you? who go blather from