Atlas Marooned

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The Storm

The sky was dark, and a cloud covered half the globe. From the Pacific to the Atlantic, the lakes withered and the seas rose and lighting pounded on the peaks of mountains once capped with snow and now weathered by the crests of waves.

It was a flood, like the great fated ones recorded in biblical verses born from wandering minds in centuries past. And like the Ogygian Flood of the Greek mythos, this flood left no king to rule the land and birthed corruption.

The flood was the mightiest advocate of chaos, for not only did it drown the world, but soiled it for centuries more. Populations dwindled and died, cities rusted and collapsed. The world sunk further and further, and soon iron and metal twisted to yield a forbidden badlands beneath the waves. The human populations of cities was replaced with that of fish, and rather than trash and garbage littering the streets, coral and sea-weed sprung up.

The world grew hotter and hotter fueled by the plumes of the moon's factories, and the water would rise into the air, and what water was left would turn red with the dye of plankton and the tides would ebb and flow with the appearance of miles of blood. This signified the approach of the most terrible season of all, for the monsoons would arrive any time.

And when the stars above would fall, and the rest would disappear in the night, it was known that the clouds would come. Like that the twinkle of the moon would be lost and the final farewells would be said to the sun, for the time had come. The rapture had returned as it did every year, and the clocks would falter, for the rain began to pour.

The first drop was lost to the sea, sacrificed to the mass of a thousand other drops, and the second would suffer the same fate. But more and more would fall, and soon enough, they met land. The drops would fall to the rocks bellow and whether the algae off and chip away and smooth the surface. They would fall into streams which would form rivers which would form torrents of water barreling down the hill.

They would strike the lone fire-pit and beat it to ashes, and return humanity to the darkness for another season. The winds would come soon after and shake and tear at the limbs of trees, forcing them down. They would knock and throw around the crude shelters of the few survivors, and throw them back and forth, throw them towards the ground and pull them out to sea.

Palm trees would shake in the wind, and snap in the torrent. Trees would collapse and men and women and children would disappear from the face of the earth. Fields would be flooded and cattle drowned. The sky would grow darker, the rain harder and the wind stronger and the tempest would continue, undeterred.

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