>>>The edge of the knife is dulled and cracked. Ancient dirt clings, unshakeable from the pores of the stone. Blood perhaps, a genetic message left by the ones sacrificed for the god of the sea. The message is a cry for waves. The knife has long outlived it's makers and wielders to be tossed amongst the stone and sand. Endless pounding waves tumble the weapon into insignificance. The edge has dulled, and soon it will become unrecognizable. No longer a tool of human folly, never again will it open a throat. It will be just a stone, another among millions tumbling out of existence under the crashing surf.
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