Creative Writing: The Abyss Of Memory

For once, the prosperity of their lives seemed to drag on peacefully. The harvest would be lauded as the best in centuries; a surplus had come in by the ton. Children laughing, prancing almost, running along the street with ease. Peace and tranquility seemed to be an endless stream of warmth bubbling away the blood that had been shed so long ago. Locals would occasionally stumble past a lonely corpse that sat peacefully in its final resting spot. Then there were the mass graves that held thousands of souls that would never get the chance for life again. Broken swords and shields, scattered, shattered equipment of war, the empty skeletons of once lively men. Forceful dread fed off of these things, shoving a world of once happy life into another …show more content…
Memories would be held back, in the hope of never being recalled in their minds. The cruel memories of the past are never to be held in the present, it would remain in their minds, edging on suffering and pain. That memory would stick with them for generations, never to be forgotten in the abyss of memory. Then the children, the glimmering orb of what stands in the future, innocent of what crimes just a generation before had committed. So fragile, yet if not taught, would fall into the same traps that had caused so much bloodshed. For now, eternity was held by thin thread again and again, by peace. Treaties had been broken, trade had been slashed, and once fertile soil was reduced to chunks of broken charred gravel. Flames had swallowed the trees. Roads were torn into rubble not worthy of even turning into gravel. Scars of the not so ancient past stood out like a broken limb, twisting in unorthodox …show more content…
Goods from all around the world were within their grasp. Boundaries of royalty soon grew tighter as philosophy tightened. Peasant life was for the better. Fiefdom smashed. Communities revived. Children born and scarred in war were hard born men that toiled at nothing to achieve what meant ensuring survival for their community. Hundreds of miles away a new terror was about to unleash wrath on the rebuilding community.
Rumors arrived of news of an enemy that shut terror down every gulp of every throat. News of an enemy never before heard of nor dealt with. It's wrath wiping out entire cities and towns. Oh no, this enemy wasn't bloodthirsty barbarians; It was the arrival of the plague. The east had seen countless wraths of shrouded death marching across the land. The plague was jumping mountains, walking over seas and never merciful for anyone. Leaving piles of the dying or dead in their