The Clover Patch

The destroyed streets filled with the blood of many, mostly from the causes of mutated virus infections, and then the breakout of all other things.. things that shouldn't have happened, things that just.. shouldn't be.



The line between our world and the worlds that we created with our minds and pens, the worlds that we draw and envision onto a screen. All of those words boundaries have been broken.



Houses and homes burn with the destruction of war...



People disappearing from their families and their loved ones...



Civilizations are washed away by the turbulent waves of destruction that come upon all the nations of the world like a whirlwind.



My name is Dr. Al Kawasaki.



I am a twenty-four year old man who has lived peacefully with my wonderful dog for a long time. I had a beautiful garden out the back of my home with at its center beholding the most sacred thing to behold of all mankind, the clover patch.



I was the man to hold in a nutshell the line that kept the perfect division between us and every other world we imagine.



Generation after Generation, each member in my family bloodline of master visionaries were supposed to keep the patch of sacred clover leaves within perfect condition and pass it down, entrusting to each new heir, a boy with the ability to precisely make up entire worlds within their own mind with an matter of seconds.



The tradition of keeping such sacred power safe within my backyard has held well until the very day. Until the puppy... The silly, little puppy romped in the clover patch. That puppy, My puppy had romped in the clover crushing all of its luck and thus breaking the great divide that sealed the harmony and peace from our world and the worlds beyond.



Now...



Now, everything is a mess. My pet puppy, although silly, is gone. Billions dead. And the world may have just met something possibly most better or most worst than anything we have experienced within all our history combined.



All and Everyone of our imaginations crossing over into... reality.



How will we respond? How will we that are left survive?



...They won't respond, and they will not survive. Not if I stay here and cry although that would be what would like to do if I had a choice.



I write this as a hope on this little piece of paper to those who will probably pick this up in the future, when the world has been saved from total damnation or alternate change.



That I, Dr. Al Kawasaki will change our world back to the way it was, reclaiming the former imperfect glory we had before my poor foolish puppy came and ruined everything.



This is all the best sorry letter I could give to anyone who is reading this, for I'm on a boat in the middle of the sea, floating some city. It's the best I've got. I wish I could have made it better, really.



I am and will be forever sorry.