Flash Fiction

It was said to have been an age of great decadence. It was said that they danced for a decade. They drank from the finest fountains. They relieved themselves at will. They walked over shattered remains. They were ignorance.

It was not always so. There was a time when they were the saviours. When they said the sayings. A time when they parted the waves. There came a time when debts to them were to be settled. Yet nought was settled. Nought was surrendered.

Rampaging became the currency of the time and dancing its funeral march. A slow waltz down the street with no name.