Tales of a Cycle

The sun is rising.

Some said that the world was cyclic. It would start, run its course, end, and start anew.

It’s been awhile, supposedly, since it ended. There was war, animosity, and total chaos. The last time the world ended, humanity wiped itself almost totally out, or so they say, and they had to start over.

I don’t believe in any of that crap. The world has never ended. Some say that it did end and humankind just didn’t notice. I say baloney.

As I stand here, out in front of my home watching the sun rise, I look at the city where I live. It is a small city, but it has permanence. Houses and places to sell things for as long as anybody can remember, even back before our earliest written records. They’ve found ruins, too, however few. They looked much different than what our buildings look like now.

They say this old place had a name, so long ago. The ancient ones gave it some sort of weird, confusing name. Now, let’s see…what did they call it, again?

Oh, that’s right. Now I remember.


This story has no comments.