The world that we once knew so well, the people. Their faces, that were once so clear , are now, on foggy memory after another. The last of them, a man called by the name of Thomas, has fallen. Where he lays, the place of new begining, is now where it ends. What happen back then? The children of today wonder. Gather round, there is a story to be told.
Children are running, screaming, playing, doing what all children should. Not a care in the world. The trees were beautiful, fruit baring. The sky is clear and sunny. People here are happy, happy because of their innocence. They are unaware of the truth that lurks just beneath the surface. Unaware of those in constant agony just outside of the village. Just outside of their cage. Out of sight and out of mind.