We did not know the weight of our sins. For years we carried on with little thought of the world around us. Mere sentences written amongst voluminous chapters in the story of our people. When the world decided to change we were caught completely unaware. The great waves crashed around us and all we could do was scream and drown like pretty little babes, helpless and ignorant.

The first signs of our end came eleven months to the day of our despair.

We lived on a hilltop, nestled amongst sloping green valleys, that reached up and up until they were lovingly capped with rocks and sweet snow. Pockets of trees, open meadows, bowls of rich land where the rain could be caught and kept safe for the bounty of life it supported. Below us was the sea. Through our land were streams and rivers that had long since dung their way into this emerald paradise. Each one brought the rain, snow, and soil to the sea below. She was glad to have that gift.

Our people were happy. They wanted for nothing. Trees gave them sweet fruit and the fields an endless supply of rich sustenance. Deer and small herds of cattle and sheep kept their muscles strong and their skin warm in the months went the sun shied away. Their children were strong. Their hands crafted clay and stone into sturdy houses. Their souls gave life to sweet music and passionate art. On our hilltop there was great happiness.

The sea brought us many things. One day it brought us strange ships. Visitors were not uncommon to our land. These ones, however, were different. They came as teachers. Up and up they lead us into the rocks of our mountains, into the heart of that hard land. From its depth they pulled a black stone. Along came the promises of a happier life. Mine the stone, set it to fire, draw out the true potential of our land.

Not for a single second did anyone question their word. It was too late before we realized how much we'd taken our happiness for granted.

Above our hillsides great towers grew. The strangers came in greater numbers to change our way of living. Each one patted the other on the back for a job well done as they improved the lives of our simple people. Great clouds rose to mingle with the white puffs that blew from the sea. They churned in the skies above our mountain. Our new friends traded us treasures from their shores for the riches of our land.

We grew greedy from the bounty they provided us. Our children became idle. We ached with an emptiness that we could name. Those strangers, our new friends, began wanting for more as well. There wasn't space enough for our expanding aspirations. We clashed like great waves fighting for the same space, ebbing each others momentum as we collided. In the end, our strength won out.

Our shores were littered with the remnants of their ships and stained with the blood of our 'teachers'.

We ripped apart the mountain and rebirthed our hillside in stone and steel. Gray was the new color of our land. Smoke poured through our sloping valleys and turned brown the leaves on our trees. They grew brittle and broke for want of water. Some prayed for rain. Never could they dream how mercilessly their prayers would be answered.

Eleven months to the day of our despair the rain came down. The clouds were acrid green and the water smelled of sulfur. Pouring sheets carried loose soil down the hillside, each drop burned the shit of those it touched. Covered in a whelps and boils, the animals ran. Most never made it. The people cowered in their towers of stone and clay.

No one was happy anymore.

Each breath felt like agony. Their throats were cracked, their lips were chapped, their heads ached, and their bellies churned. The waters were poisoned and the river would not wash their wounds no matter how fervently they prayed.

Four months to the day of our despair.

Over the shoulders of our proudest mountain and through the sloping maze of our hills flowed two rivers. Rushing violently with strong currents the right river cut through the land and dug his course with heated passion. He was volatile. His strong arms cut jagged rock and left white peaks of water trailing behind him as he steamed down the mountain. He forged great trails where our people would go to hunt, to bathe, and to enjoy the bounty of the forest.

Curving artfully and taking sweet nutrients in her current the left river looped lazily down the mountain and gave birth to gentle streams throughout the hillsides. A temple was built upon her banks and her waters were used to cure the sick and the dying. We thought her babbling body to be a gift from the creator gods and we treated her with utmost reverence.

At the base of our mountain these two rivers met. In a heated swirl their bodies converged and together they danced their down to the sea. It was a lover's dance. Along their united bank was the edge of our village.

When the towers rose and the mountain was torn apart to feed our greed we thought little of our rivers. We dug and we feasted. One day the lady seemed to shrink. Each day following her body recoiled further and further from wounds we had inflicted. We left our senses and offered her no aid. One day she was gone. The sacred bed where her body had lain was bare and dry. The temple we built to her was abandoned and would eventually be forgotten.

We could not know her lover's rage. The volatile master river reached out with a mighty hand. When the next rain clouds gathered we were showered in his wrath. His banks spread and all manner of debris swept through our village. He choked the path to the sea and refused to go further, he would wait for the return of his lover.

Decay spread with each passing wind. Those who drank the water watched their bellies grow large and fill with unearthly pain. Our village was shattered. The river wanted us to feel his pain and his grief. He would drown us in his sorrows.

We begged for his forgiveness. Mercy was not in his nature.

Four months to the day of our despair.