Sometimes it’s hard to believe, but we were all just children, one day. Once upon a time, we were all innocent. We were all free from the terrors of the world, protected from harm by the warm glow of the sun. We could find nothing in the world to hate. To fear. To be shy from. The world was bright. Even at night, we could find safety in the fact that somebody was watching us, protecting us as we walked. That we were never alone….

Once upon a time.

Then, the time inevitably comes when reality sinks its claws into us. When we have to see past the sun and stare into the endless blackness of space. The eternal vortex that sucks the life out of us. Eventually, we must all learn that the world isn’t a place in which we can walk safely. It isn’t a place where the sparks of hope which we once felt may ignite.

It was two-hundred years ago when a group of heroes, ponies who could see through that darkness and were true enough to fight it, braved the Wasteland and, against all odds, brought the darkness to it’s knees. Equestria was reborn, but it could never be the same as it was before. Darkness lingered, as miasmas always did. Even still, those who survived from before the war, and lived to see the downfall of the wasteland, did their best to restore it, as well as those who had never even seen the dead earth in all it’s terribleness. They were as close to untainted as any could have ever dreamed to be. Those sparks of hope that had once been extinguished were relit by both the youngest and the oldest.

But an apocalypse is, and always will be, the end of the world. It is an irreversible turning point in time. All people, those who live through it, and those who live after it, are poisoned by its plague. The world was made a place between Heaven and Hell. A place where no spirit could ever be wholly virtuous. And yet, no spirit could ever be thoroughly satanic. The Wasteland brought us many steps closer to Hell. We lost the will to hold on to our virtues for the sake of doing the right thing. Inevitably. the darknes began to grow again. It found a new source to hold root, somewhere where it could have leadership and influence, and spread like a wildfire. It didn't have to be brought on by desperation, instead it could infect through force of authority.

It’s hard to just get to know somebody anymore. Either they have a reason to cut your neck, or they’re too uninterested to spare you more than a moment, if that at all. It’s not only a busy new world, it’s a dangerous one. It’s only a chance that a cloud will have a silver lining, but it’s a guarantee that every closet has a skeleton.

Anyone, everyone, has been born into a simply resurrected nation. A place where only the strongest can hope for happiness. The world was built from ashes, and therefore can only ever be as much. Those who follow were born to follow. Those who lead fought, some for their lives, to get where they are. Nobody can be expected to be generous or accepting.

This is the future. It’s a place of power and abuse of evolution. Where grand progress was predicted, we’ve destroyed ourselves.

Some say there was a time before the Wasteland. Before every step was only another pace towards death. And they may be right. Long ago, we might not have been like this. Long ago, there may have been a world where murder, madness, and war were unheard of. A time of peace, harmony, and serenity. And maybe... friendship.

Author's Note

Hopefully, thanks to some advice from Tetragrammation, this actually makes sense and doesn't suck quite as much. I'm really at a loss at how to change this for the better beyond what I've written here. I'm hoping it suffices, as my experience in writing is lacking and I hope to improve it with this.