(Based of an image prompt)
Written by: Expanding View (me!)
I’ve been here my whole life. If you could call it a life…standing here out in the middle of nowhere, my arm outstretched to the skies, calling out to the Gods (if they even still exist).
I remember the civilization that lived here. The small ones played in the others’ arms so sweet and innocent as the big ones murdered. They were basically naked, those animals, and they grew in their numbers from an unknown source. I was small then, naive. I welcomed them although I was barely noticeable under their feet. After all, they were my brothers and sisters. Another one of Mother Nature’s creations.
I grew to be as tall as their small kind, when I finally caught a glimpse of the world I had not seen. The smell of maple sap filled the air. There in front of me was the biggest of their kind. In his large hand, he held the log of a young tree, barely 100 years old. A smile was plastered on his face as he walked right past me. I was still young and fear shook me as I heard her cries. I could not help her. No one could.
The females were much kinder and more gentle. When I was 10, a small one sat at my feet and sang. The birds rested in my arms just to hear the Sister’s song. Red seeped from her cheeks and tears flowed from her eyes. Mother Nature had cursed their kind along with us, for many years.
By the time I was 11, grey delight filled the air. It was a gift from the kind that had harmed us or maybe it was a warning of what was to come. I basked in it for awhile, trying to ignore the nightmares that filled my dreams.
I was 15 when it happened. The big ones ran along the fields in the horizon, carrying the limbs of the our dead and using them to kill their own. Sap covered the ground that day but they walked around with pride. The civilization took no note of the deaths they had been causing.
Day by day, more of my kind were destroyed and the civilization continued to grow. But the civilization did not know what was coming. They had committed many sins and angered the Gods.
That wretched day brought the death of Mother Nature. The skies were filled with red hot burning anger and I lay on the ground, watching the Cursed Kind fall and hearing their wonderful screams.
It’s been years now and the skies have turned grey, the colour they had gifted me with. I wish I were dead. But maybe I am and I just don’t know it. After all, Mother has cursed us from the start.