- Joined
- Nov 15, 2024
- Messages
- 16
- Reaction score
- 28
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- 13
Two figures stand in the ruins of an old city.
Crumbling infrastructure. A fragment of what once was here.
Did Grandad ever say how people lived back in his time?
Here and there. He didn't like talking about it.
It wasn't the sun over the horizon. It was a raging inferno kept alive by a bygone generation's actions.
He said that others talked about war like a storm.
He said war doesn't pass - that'll bleed into the land, the blood, and every generation after.
A howling wind. All that's heard. The rustling of boarded windows. The creaks from rusting metal.
So what do we do with it?
Carry it. Not as weight, but as a warning.
The remnants of an old crumbling tower gloom in the center of the city. A husk of the power that once was.
Think we'll do better?
We have to. We get the result of the past and our own choice.
Do we leave something better or worse?
Rebuild or repeat?
