The first lines of my short story: Rise Again

As I stood on the roof I watched as the orange sun sank behind the ruins of London. The shard looked as if it were on fire, the fractured glass reflecting the burning sunset behind it. Ash still fluttered down from a blackened sky onto the empty shell of the city. The London eye now always still, Big Ben always quiet, the skyline was crumbling, ruined by a never ending war.
I could see the across the city from here. No sign on humanity was left. Even our monuments had been sacrificed in the first few days of the struggle, now a year later I could see nature taking back what was hers. Steel office blocks were strangled with green vines, from the pavements grass sprouted through. Even after our world had collapsed there was life, there was hope.


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