The wind is blowing again. Its picked up in the last couple of hours, stirring the smoldering remains around me; the place that's haunted me since I was a child still holds a feeling of sadness, despair, curses. This place is damned.
I kneel in the westernmost corner of the land, not far from where a row of houses would have stood. My mind can still see that construction of this place; the visions will be burned into my mind for all time. Moldering ruins, little more than huts with thatched roofs, grasses swaying gently in the wind, fearful of another onslaught of poor weather, tired soldiers in an a battle with no chance of victory. The ground now burns, fills with sickly gray ashes, thick yellow smoke, haze. The houses will no longer need to worry about the torrents of the monsoons in the summer; right now they would even welcome the dampening cold. I shy away from the parts that still burn and plunge my hands into the heavy, black earth. Searching, ever searching. I know what I want is here.
The sun has long since fallen below the horizon. I'm exhausted, weary to the bone. Some time ago, I began to cry, wail at the ridges that surround me, enclose me here. Long hours of searching, hands blackened with soot and earth, fingernails cracked and bloody, lack of food and water threaten to overcome me. The only reason to come to such a place, the absolute necessity to stay until well after the sky has blackened has eluded me. The stars don't even shine here; even the sky is cursed. Just as I am to give it up as a loss and leave before even the embers burn away, my hands claw the remainder of the earth from my treasure. Gingerly, reverently, I remove it from the hiding cache that has kept it safe all these decades. At last. Insanity overtakes me then. Sweet relief.
Hours later.
History that is forgotten repeats itself. This place is filled with a history, dark, deadly, sweet and bitter. I cannot let them forget what they have done, what they caused. The reason the town was deserted, why it burns. I cannot allow them to let the sparks of the events of so long ago dwindle to a pinprick in their psyche or the results will be far worse than the death of an already dead community.
Wiping the earth from my prize, I cradle it to my chest and stand, legs stiff and aching from the long hours of work, for the removal of the bounty that I now guard is simply the last of it. This place needed to be purged, I was the only one who saw the truth of it. I walk into the now towards the starless skies, mind drifting to the complications ahead of me. What if they find my own dark past waiting for them when they sift through the ashes? After all, this place makes you mad.
I kneel in the westernmost corner of the land, not far from where a row of houses would have stood. My mind can still see that construction of this place; the visions will be burned into my mind for all time. Moldering ruins, little more than huts with thatched roofs, grasses swaying gently in the wind, fearful of another onslaught of poor weather, tired soldiers in an a battle with no chance of victory. The ground now burns, fills with sickly gray ashes, thick yellow smoke, haze. The houses will no longer need to worry about the torrents of the monsoons in the summer; right now they would even welcome the dampening cold. I shy away from the parts that still burn and plunge my hands into the heavy, black earth. Searching, ever searching. I know what I want is here.
The sun has long since fallen below the horizon. I'm exhausted, weary to the bone. Some time ago, I began to cry, wail at the ridges that surround me, enclose me here. Long hours of searching, hands blackened with soot and earth, fingernails cracked and bloody, lack of food and water threaten to overcome me. The only reason to come to such a place, the absolute necessity to stay until well after the sky has blackened has eluded me. The stars don't even shine here; even the sky is cursed. Just as I am to give it up as a loss and leave before even the embers burn away, my hands claw the remainder of the earth from my treasure. Gingerly, reverently, I remove it from the hiding cache that has kept it safe all these decades. At last. Insanity overtakes me then. Sweet relief.
Hours later.
History that is forgotten repeats itself. This place is filled with a history, dark, deadly, sweet and bitter. I cannot let them forget what they have done, what they caused. The reason the town was deserted, why it burns. I cannot allow them to let the sparks of the events of so long ago dwindle to a pinprick in their psyche or the results will be far worse than the death of an already dead community.
Wiping the earth from my prize, I cradle it to my chest and stand, legs stiff and aching from the long hours of work, for the removal of the bounty that I now guard is simply the last of it. This place needed to be purged, I was the only one who saw the truth of it. I walk into the now towards the starless skies, mind drifting to the complications ahead of me. What if they find my own dark past waiting for them when they sift through the ashes? After all, this place makes you mad.

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