Disaster and Dreams

We have failed.

We did not understand, and nearly brought our own destruction. We thought we had learned, and the next generation did it again. A third time we meddled where we should not. This time there was no course but to flee.

Our homes smashed, our elders dead. Even our own minds were twisted, our judgement altered. We gave our lives to insure the escape of a few. The few gave their own sanity to preserve life for their children. 3 small craft, drifting. A tempest. We are seperated. Disaster again.

A single craft. A bleak shore. Disease strikes, from strange water or air or evil spirits, we do not know. Once again we survive, at least the youngest of us. And one day an exploring party brings news! A beacon of smoke led to a tiny village. Another craft survived the storm!

All but the basics of fishing and farming forgotten, yet we remember disaster. It can strike again. We keep 2 seperate villages, to insure the survival of one. We explore the nearby shores, looking for the third craft, looking for our friends. Nothing. We talk of delving inland, but the jungle is forboding.

Avalon is no more than fireside stories now, filled with dreams. And nightmares. Boys and girls, barely teens, struggle with heavy nets, as we eke out an existence by the sea.

Yet this new land has riches to be discovered. Knowledge lost can be relearned. Toddlers play in the sand. We still have hope.