I know it's been ages, but in my defence I've been really busy lately. Sorry about that!
I hope you like this one, it's a little sad though, so sorry again!
Review please, I'd love to know your thoughts on this oneshot specifically :D
Corrode, v
- Gradually destroyed
Every time war struck, belief waned.
When this new world war crashed down over the globe, belief just vanished.
There was no semblance of hope. The only joy found was that when a battle was won, and that was not a good joy. It was malicious. It was vicious. These people were reduced to mere animal instincts now.
Memories were not happy. Fairy tales were non existent.
A small party of explorers were hiking up through the Arctic Tundra, thick coats pulled around them and oxygen tanks on their backs, their ice picks driving deep into the hard ice cliffs, pulling their weight up the side of the cliff they were scaling. The team was searching for a place to find oil. Resources were low, and tanks couldn't drive on nothing.
The first man, the one leading the team, was the first to pull himself up onto the top of the cliff they'd spent the last few hours climbing. Scrabbling for something to grip onto, his hand closed around something hard and strangely round, and he used it to heave himself up, turning to pull the second man up with him.
There was a low cloud over the mountainside, and looking about wasn't the easiest thing to do. The thought of finding a path to pick their way down on was treacherous. But the first man, the oldest of the group was busy turning his attention back to the object he'd used to pull himself up with. Bending down, he brushed the layer of ice and snow off it and peered at the round golden object. Digging around it he saw the golden ball was attached to a long metal pole with intricate etching into it, but a lot of it had rusted and was corroding away. It was unsettling, and for a second the older man felt his mind cast back to fading childhood memories... The North Pole.
"Come on men," he said gruffly, leading the younger crew past the object and onwards up the slight incline. The view that came to sight was something that stunned the group, and shocked the eldest of the men to the core.
It was like his childhood dreams, those fleeting things that came back to him in the silence of the night when he remembered how things used to be, had come to life before him, and were then ultimately shattered.
A vast building stretched along the mountainside, domes roofs were caved in on some of the smaller structures, the bridges that linked the place together were coated in a thick sheet of ice that had built up over the years. Perhaps the most impressive, but heartbreaking structure was the largest, situated in the middle of the masses. The heart of what the man was still calling 'The Pole' in his mind, for no reason he could explain.
It took twenty minutes to find an opening in the crumbling brick wall before they made their way into the building, glancing about at the high walls. Clambering up the mounds of snow that had blown in over the years, digging their feet into the ice to stop themselves from slipping as they made their way further into the room.
In front of them was what looked like a large globe, tilted off it's axis so it was resting against the large stone wall, the crumbling rocks and splintered wood holding it up precariously. Half of it had rusted away, only showing half of Europe and bottom part of Africa. Asia and Australia had been corroded by the brutal weather, and the Americas were nestled in the wall.
The place held a long forgotten note of happiness, and even though they were staring at the ruins of something they could not comprehend a faint feeling of wonder filled them. The place was immense. Broken toys scattered the floor and the workbenches, hats with holes in them were lying abandoned, and the men couldn't figure out what they were for.
But amidst all the confusion and remnants of joy, there was a huge overhanging sense of misery. Of death. Of things forgotten in time, things forced out due to war and pain.
After an hour of rummaging about, the group left, casting one backwards glance to the buildings and agreeing never to think of this again.
Because of the war, joy was scarce and wonder scarcer still.
The Pole was left alone in the snow to rust and crumble away, forgotten, not believed in.
