Sparkatale

The story I tell is one many have heard. The story I tell is one distorted and marred. I tell of the death of my country, of my world, of those I do not know, and those I hold dear. The story I tell is that of a long and harsh nuclear winter. I was conceived carried and born into the radioactive nuclear winter. My mutation was not a surprise, but it's extent was not known in my childhood. My name is Warren, yet I have not been called that name since the death of my mother. I was at the age of twelve when she passed, and that name died with her. My father died to raiders a year after. Luckily for me the raiders took me in instead of killing me, and I was taught to fight, to kill, to survive in a world birthed of nuclear fire. This is my tale, my life, my journey in a cold winter.