I know it is strange to have ‘The End’ at the beginning of a story but this isn’t any story. It’s more of a prediction. A prediction of the future. And what will happen if we do nothing. If we let the beautiful earth be taken from right under our feet, well… the end might come sooner than expected.
It had not rained for so long. Decades had past, and still, not a drop of rain. Not since the last tree fell, as a show of power from the humans. ‘We do not need trees,’ they claimed. ‘We do not need nature. We are in charge, and we can do whatever we like.’ How naïve the humans were. Are. But when the rivers dried up, and the crops failed, they began to worry. Too incompetent to be able to come up with a solution, and too proud to try. Little did they know this was my doing.
Mother Earth is always depicted as a caring, nurturing spirit, but I had had enough. My ‘children’ as they have claimed themselves to be, destroyed my beautiful creatures, and deformed me. Stripped me of my self, left nothing but bones. They started praying. Praying for rain. But when it came, oh, they had no idea what was happening.
At first, they were joyous. Some cheered, cries of happiness, and some wept, tears of relief. As the Earth, they thought I had forgiven them. Or worse, some thought they were never to blame in the first place. Nevertheless, all celebrated. The ruthless, divided society the humans lived in, united by the rain. But the rain never stopped. Eventually, the smart ones started to get worried. ‘Smart’ being a relative term, of course. The dry and desolate basins that once held lakes had begun to overflow. Villages engulfed in grey sludge, tides rising, rivers overflowing, but still the rain kept falling.
Next came the wind. A force so powerful and vigorous, it seemed to have a life of its own. This was me, in all my power and glory, my anger and thirst personified. I didn’t leave anything behind, not even the abstract. I blew away all of what makes life. Colour vanished with the wind, leaving lonely shades of grey. Sound disappeared, leaving silent cries of pain. I left my ‘children’ with nothing, but the bare skin and bones of their society. Just like they left me. And I don’t care enough to end them. No. I want them to suffer. Just like they made me suffer.
From that day on, it rained once a month, enough, so that the humans did not die, but not enough to quench their thirst. I didn’t have to worry about feeding the exquisite animals that once thrived on me, the humans took care of them long ago. Now, there are few cows and pigs, the only animals left, just enough for the humans to survive, but not enough to satisfy their hunger. The animals are collateral damage. I am out for revenge. All the colours were gone, but what did it matter? There was nothing left worth colour anyway. All the forests and trees were gone, so nothing was deserving enough of the lush and rich colours that once made up the world. If they spoke, they would find there voices gone too. They suffered. Every day they suffered. But it was never enough for me.
I wanted to strip them of what they loved, what they nurtured and cared for, just like they did to me. I must destroy the children. Tomorrow they will wake up, and the one spot of ‘colour’ in this bleak world will be gone.
Anticipation boils within. The early hours of dawn are upon us, and I cannot wait to taste what I have waited so long to taste. Revenge. If I could have had a body, some form in which to show my rage, a glance at me would melt your bones, leaving you shivering. You would freeze, yet beads of sweat would trickle down your face, pooling onto the floor. You would be unable to look away, sucked into my cold, dead, empty eyes. You would be trapped. Forever.
I cast my soulless ‘eyes’ to the crumbling wreck that used to be humanity. Should I wipe the children out one by one, or just obliterate them all in a silent but deadly explosion? I’ll start with one. I’ll find the most adorable little girl, see how long it takes to get rid of her. Then everyone else.
There. I see her. The most gorgeous little girl, kneeling in the dust. I think she had red hair before all colours were gone. Curly, long red hair. Now it is dull and lifeless, like she soon will be. She couldn’t be more than seven. I don’t stop to think what she’s doing out in the open, in the early hours of dawn. Channeling my rage and anger the ground starts rumbling around her. Tendrils shoot out and grasp wildly, trying to claim her. Startled, she looks up. Of course she can’t see me, then why do I feel like she’s staring straight at me? It’s her eyes. Oh My God her eyes.
The brightest green I have ever seen. Like the trees in the old days, before… what have I done?
I suddenly see what she was doing. In the dust, there is a seedling.
She was planting a seedling.
It takes all my energy to force the tendrils back into the ground. It’s like they were a force of their own, nearly taking over me. My rage, my anger. Personified
It is not time yet. The end is near, but it is not too late. I must rest now. She will protect me. I have become the tree. My love and care personified. The girl with the green eyes will save me. But now I will sleep. Goodbye. For now.
- Jessica Cash
- Buderim, Queensland
- Word count: 998