Watching Heirs Unnaparent

A Line in the Sand (خط في الرمال)

"Let's go!! This first chapter is about Grimm"

Almost 20 years ago...

"So long ago"

The ruins had been deserted for hundreds of years.

That was why they were called ruins and that was all they remained to be, a simple reminder of the past, of a world before machines and technology ruled the planet. These walls had seen generations upon generations of rulers, conquers, kings, and slaves walk amid their halls. They knew the stories of old, how knights had fought valiantly for their kingdoms, had laid down their lives seeking wealth and power--and the key to immortality.

"WOW, So this is Grimm? Ali asked

"Yep" Nicholas replied

But those days were long gone and the world had moved on from such times. Valor had faded to stories and stories to legends. There was no need for the tales now that the planet had new heroes, a new source of inspiration, a new direction. Wealth and power were to be used to better the world and with that came great responsibility, a responsibility the human race was not yet ready to wield.

And so the land lay barren, forgotten by time and forged by wind and waves, buried beneath centuries of history and age, dormant.

Resting.

Waiting.

Watching.

Over time, the land grew to shield the past from the rest of the world; trees sprouted through the heart of the foundation and ivy climbed the pillars, shrouding all secrets deep inside. A peace befell the forest, serene and unbroken, as time passed and everything disappeared into a fairytale, an old wive's tale that the entire world had long forgotten.

Well, almost the entire world.

The roar of backfiring exhausts shattered the calm and sent a multitude of birds screeching for cover. Animals of all kinds fled from the imposing noise and the thick tires crashing mercilessly through the trees around them. The vehicle, once green, now splattered with what one could only hope was mud, trampled through the woodland and its passengers all braced themselves for a sharp dip in and out of a running creek, particularly the small boy who was clinging desperately to the overhead handles as though his life depended on it as his skinny four-foot-tall frame was bounced and jostled and thrown in every direction imaginable.

Nicholas may feel a little bit bad for Milo

"Father!" he cried out over another particularly loud explosion, but the man in the driver's seat didn't even turn his head, his eyes fixated on the road before him. The boy whimpered and curled up in his seat, bracing himself with his head between his knees and a hand out to hold himself steady against the rough terrain. "Father! Please stop! It hurts!"

"Not now!" snapped a rough tone that made the boy flinch and recoil even further inward. "We're so close now! Can't you feel it? We're almost there!"

"I can" Nino said

But the child did not understand. He could only hold his breath and pray for this nightmare to end soon. He wasn't sure how much more of this jostling he could take. He wished he could have stayed home, in his warm bed, with his warm blanket and his baby sister and their three cats. That would have been so much nicer than being dragged out to this abandoned place--wherever they were.