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No one remembers how the Great War started, but everyone knows how it ended. The powers of the time spent generations for their mad conquests, never giving us a reason, never telling us why, until hardly anything was left. Just the scraps. And their monsters. It all slowly fell apart, and the remnants drew new borders and hardly remembered anything about the old ones. We grew more careful with what we had, and we built new cities on top of the ruins. And for a time we almost thought it was going to get better.
But it didn't.
We'd torn the veil too wide. Showed too much weakness. We had our man-made monsters, but the darkness had its own, and we had forgotten that. Maybe our greatest mistake. It's not safe to go out at night anymore. Not safe to be alone in the woods. Not safe to look too long at your reflection, in the really bad places.
But we live as we have, mostly. We still wake up, do our jobs, eat, sleep, again and again. We still love and cry and hate, get drunk, sing, listen to the radio. We still wage our little wars. But slower. More carefully. We don't look behind us when we get that feeling crawling up our spine that something is terribly wrong here, because we've already started running, or shut the door and barred the windows. We know it's wrong. We made it that way. And we can't put the pieces back together.
Our world is broken.
I think we're broken too.
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