Hey kids, do you remember this story? No? I'm not surprised. Well, as some of you know, I had started this as a fanfiction, but stopped to make it an original story. The original story is completed, so now, I'm converting it back to a fanfiction, for your enjoyment (or resentment).
Seventeen Years Earlier…
Screams filled the hot air as the flames rose up into the opaque, starless atmosphere. Men dressed in black (a psychotic version of the police force, more deadly in every way possible), were pushing and ripping people apart from one another. Either the people separated willingly, or were killed without question; many suffered the latter fate.
It was The End— a horrific day nobody dreamt would ever dawn on the fairly new world.
The wooden poles that had supported the massive, rectangular walls at a low angle, came down and ropes were attached to the supposed top of The Wall (a new creation, made by a superior form of government; a wall to separate men and women from each other, forever) began to be hoisted upward, sending a roar of fury and rebellion amongst the people.
Nobody truly believed that The Wall would go up; it was too inconceivable and much too controversial. But The Council held power over the population, not even the most brilliant of professors could have imagined they possessed. They were a secret society; they had much influence over the people. The quiet force that sprang up like a plague upon the world.
Blood, fire, and cries consumed the night, desperate cries of people dying, cries of people being taken away from their loved ones, cries of exertion, as the men in black, began tugging on the thick ropes, and pulling each section of The Wall upward, one by one.
Wives and husbands, fathers and daughters, mothers and sons, sisters and brothers, all being pulled apart and brought to their designated side. Many people rebelled against this new law that came with the new décor. You don't see those people around anymore.
The scene was chaos, to say it simply. The idea of being separated infuriated and petrified the populace, but the men in black seemed to have no soul. They pulled away children clinging to their parents' necks, as if it were a recreational sport. It was as if they were mindless robots (no doubt, a source of pride for The Council).
Isolated, make-shift riots popped up from the people, only to be pathetically taken down with the swing of a sword and the throw of a spear; the revolutionaries were pathetically outnumbered and outgunned. A few went quietly, those that feared for the safety of their loved ones; those are the ones you see around today.
The pain that is associated with The End is excruciating, for those who are old enough to remember it. It is a day that is mourned, and lamented. There is always an unusual chain of events on the anniversary of that day, suicides, insane attempts to go over The Wall, things of that sort.
The women's side is said to be better, more refined, the 'better' side. The men's side is said to be a complete and utter disaster, the 'worse' side.
But neither side is complete without the other, they need each other. Something only people with a sense of right and wrong know, but can do nothing about.
At first, after the Wall went up, the men in black had to guard it with frightening weapons, to block anyone who was crazy enough to try to cross. Nobody dared challenge them; they had certainly branded their mark on the hearts of everyone. They were the most feared in all the land.
Over time, the hype died down, the fate of the people accepted, and slowly, The Wall became a way of life. The ones who are left live as if The Wall had always been. They are mere shells of their former selves.
Nowadays, The Wall is a part of life, sadly; only the people, who dare to dream, can remember the glory of what once was one, great, race.
The human race.