Before
The city used to back onto the mountain, houses ran along the river that split the two shores, it had been small but what little history we know of it it had thrived in its own way.
After The Fall the bridges that linked the two shores crumbled, the only way to get to the ‘Main Land’ was the long and life threatening journey to either ends of the large island we live on; the water was completely out of the question.
Most of the human race had been thrown into near extinction hundreds of years ago coupled with the rapid climate change animals had adapted, multiplied and mutated to the point most of the species were now apex predators and fighting animals on land is a lot easier than at sea, the vast water that split through most of the middle of the island were prone to rapid tides and whirlpools; we don’t know what happened to cause such a shift in the earth but whatever it was the human race needed to collapse for the world to fix itself, we fought to survive and soon what was left of us had also evolved and adapted, it was survival of the fittest.
My ancestors cut ourselves off from the other side, looking over at night to see the lights push through the trees and overgrown bush that had retaken most of what was once the city, neither side willing to help the other.
Over the years people have made the long journey to the other side, no one has ever returned but their numbers have been replaced by those from the Main Land; all the stories are the same… The journey is not worth it.
So we stay on our side wondering if the grass is greener over there, wondering if we should make more of an effort, wondering what kind of people the harsh mountain produced and we wait for a day where one side falls or the Earth decides we’re not worthy anymore.
