This isn't a single story, but rather a collection (I'm not sure how many yet) of stories, that will all end up relating to one another in some way in the end. I haven't really planned it all out, so I honestly expect this to be disorganized and quite frankly terrible, but here goes nothing. Oh, and the basic theme of every story will be that human faults will bring about some form of corruption, resulting in no one particularly winning. I apologize if this is bad, I don't really write much, nor do I know the "correct" formats, but, like I said before, here goes nothing.

 

 

Book 1: The Spirit of the Valley

 

I can still remember the early days of my childhood, back before the war began and when Mom and Dad were still alive. Back then, a bad

day was waking up in the afternoon and not seeing the sun rise. It really was a sight, watching the darkness from down below in the valley seemingly just disappear as the sunlight came. That's all there really was to worry about, for me at least. We were so far out from the rest of civilization, it was like the world was ours. It never got boring though, life on the valley never really has been. There was always something to do. Like when Dad and I first planted the tree that resides on the cliff near our house. He told me that the tree had "come from a long journey, and has finally found a home." That's something I didn't understand at that time, but after everything had happened, I'd like to say I get it now. Those really were the best days, the wind has never quite felt the same in this valley since then.

 

 

 

 

 

I'll add more later, I guess.

Of course, mom and dad's deaths hit me hard. But, over time, I learned to move on and keep living. I began to find solace in walking out to the cliff every day, and just looking out at the valley for hours upon hours. It felt like, even though my parents were both physically gone, there was a piece of them here, residing in the valley. And so, I continued to live. And as long as I went to the valley, I was never really alone. I felt happy again, and the world was mine once more. I forgot about that war that took my dad away, and the sickness which took my mom. But how was I to know, that just 8 years later, I would feel the pain of reality all over again. It came in the form of something that I knew all to well. I would finally see the corruption of the war, face to face.