In a world where the sun never rose, where there was eternal darkness, lived a man called Grif. Grif was an old man that needed help in order to walk, his eyes couldn’t see properly and he sometimes struggled to breathe. He didn’t have any relatives left. His wife died shortly after the tragedy. The tragedy was what the folks called it. In Grif’s words it was “The Farewell to Sun”.
After his beloveds death Grif shut himself of to the public. People began looking for him, not because they cared for him but just to force him to give them food. After the tragedy there wasn’t enough food and they couldn’t grow any because of the absence of the sun. Soon after the tragedy people began forming groups in order to collect food. Many groups were formed in mere hours with people raging for food. The existence of groups caused daily conflicts which resulted in deaths. Grif was sick of running everyday. He was sick of searching for food, he was done with it. He took out a picture of his wife and promised to put an end to this chaos as he closed his eyes. Grif woke up, the picture was still in his hands. He took out the only food he had left. He decided to get out from his hiding place and eat his food while searching for a solution. Just as he took his last bite an idea struck him. He knew this was the only way, he was going to find seeds that could live and grow without the sun. Grif’s father was a farmer and so was he. In fact being a farmer was a passed down tradition in his family. He set out to his old hut where he and his wife used to live. When he got there he saw that one of the groups had already searched his house. His mood didn’t change though cause he already expected them to. He wasn’t looking for food as they were, what he was looking for was much more valuable. He was looking for knowledge, knowledge that was passed down for generations. He flipped through the books that his great grandpa had wrote. Those were the oldest that he could understand. He let out a gasp because he had found what he was looking for. A way to make the seeds he had dreamed of.
He gathered up the strength he had left and ran to the center of the village. He screamed “I have found a way to grow crops once more!”. Just as he started explaining a member of one of the groups stabbed him and threw him to the ground. Grif’s hand felt cold, he could barely move. He understood that he was not going to make it. These people have killed the only thing that could save them, he thought to himself. He tried to write the formula he had found in the dirt so that maybe they could be saved. As his eyes closed for the last time he saw someone stepping on his formula. It was over.