I was sitting by the fire in my small village home. The flames seemed to play out the story in my mind. The last of humanity had boarded a boat and tried to cross the ocean.

  That was the story of my town nobody seemed to care why they tried to cross the ocean. The flames flickered to life and formed the image of a boat landing in a cove.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The cove had a sand bar the wasn't connected to the mainland.

  On the sandbar was the only protected part of humanity, my village.