Fiction
When Civilizations Collapse
And new ones begin
The survivors walked across the desert, their heads hung in sorrow and their hearts drained of hope. Some wondered if those who died were actually the lucky ones.
The group of around one hundred refugees stopped every few days to bury another one of their lot who succumbed to the harsh conditions. The desert offered little sustenance but plenty of danger. Burned by the hot desert sun, the people had to fend off jackals and snakes and poisonous insects. Vultures followed them from above.
Whenever civilizations collapse there have always been survivors. It is these survivors who plant the seed for new civilizations. These seeds carry the genetic imprint of the trauma experienced in the collapse of the previous civilization. History repeats itself over and over, providing endless opportunities to learn from and heal from that trauma.
Their numbers dwindling, the refugees walked for months across the hills and valleys of the desert wasteland. One day they reached the top of a rise in the land and what they saw stopped everyone in their tracks.
In the distance there were magnificent snow-capped mountains. In the little valley immediately below them was a wide river, its waters flowing from those distant mountains.
