There was brown in every direction; dirty, murky brown that soiled shoes and ruined clothes. Only a single speck of white stood out against the seemingly-endless sea of sepia hills and sorrel valleys. The figure lay silent and still, only his soft golden-blond hair stirring with the gentle afternoon breeze. His limbs were spread like tree branches; twisted bent and broken, and broad smudges of red tinted his otherwise-pale skin. He was dead by the looks of him, freshly dead, and yet if one was to look closely enough one might notice the subtle rising and sinking of his chest and the slight twitching of his parted lips. His slender fingers stretched then drew back in timidly, like a hermit crab in its shell, as his body began to stir. His lashes fluttered, looking like two little birds, before spreading open hesitantly like the bud of a leaf, revealing two dim, deep green orbs inside.
The first thing that seemed to flash through the little beads of green was shock, perhaps confusion. The lids closed again, and then reopened, as if he thought things might change the second time. Then came the first signs of pain: a creasing brow, fingers tensing and curling stiffly, trembling, aching breath. The creature went from still and seemingly lifeless, to writhing and contorting in moments. He took in a few gasps of air, his eyes now wide. He resembled a fish out of water, gasping for a few more minutes of life. His expressive, frightened eyes shifted about himself, and he seemed horrified to learn that he was the only living thing in sight. What had happened to him? Why? He couldn’t recall how things had come to be like this. All around him were hills of dirt and the others, but they weren’t alive anymore. Their bodies had been uprooted and they were now sprawled on the ground, rotting like fallen soldiers.
The young-looking man tried to pick himself up, tried to move so he could find help, but he hardly made half a sit up before he cried out in pain and lay back again. It seemed he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He panted for air and stared upwards at the sky above, knowing that soon he wouldn’t see it anymore. His life was bleeding out fast; already he could feel himself getting numb. As he lay there, waiting to die, memories began to flood his mind. Maybe it was his neurons firing in his last moments, or maybe he just didn’t want to die feeling so alone. No matter the reason the sounds, images and emotions of the past came rushing through him once more, playing out before him like a dream which he had no control over.
It was the first day of many days that he could remember. The sun was especially warm and the air was thick and moist. He was standing at the top of a hill, his hill, with the grass and the living others all around him, a blue sky above. He could hear the Ash and the Beech whispering sweetly to eachother nearby, and he could see Cedar on the other hill, brooding as he usually did. Robins and Red-Winged Blackbirds fluttered overhead and in between, chattering and chirping gaily to one another. It felt like a day full of magic, where anything could be possible. This hill that he had lived on all his life was his favorite place in the world. He didn’t need to be anywhere else, see anything else, hear anything else; to him this hill was his existence. He wasn’t certain how much time had passed while standing on that hill, looking out; only that everything seemed to move slower when he heard her laugh.
A little girl, no older than twelve, stood before him, looking up at him with vibrant, green eyes. She had red hair that sloped and curled about her young face, nearly hiding it in a fiery sea of crimson. The sunlight seemed to catch in her hair, making it seem like many, shimmering strands of gold woven atop her tiny head.
“Hi, Nys.” She smiled, her voice reminding him of Honeydew. She had named him that, though he had no idea why. They had met a few weeks before. He was standing on the hill looking out as he often did, and she had seemingly come out of nowhere; like an idea. She thought he was beautiful, the way he stood there so resolutely, and had no qualms saying so directly. Nys, however, was a very quiet, timid speaker. In fact he spoke so quietly it would be hard to hear unless you listened with every portion of your being. His voice was a whisper rustling through the tree branches. She seemed to understand him well enough, however, and he found her to be a good companion. It made this hill seem a little less empty, somehow. He wasn’t certain, but from what she told him she and her parents had moved somewhere nearby. There was nothing but country all around, at least as far as he could see, so he supposed this made him one of her only friends.
The girl, Lucina, plopped down at his feet, staring out like he did. This was his favorite time, where they could simply bask in the freedom and complexity of nature. There were no words that needed to be spoken; everything was said through the stirring of leaves and the chirping of birds. There were a few minutes of silence before her voice stirred again.
“Nys, I like sitting out here with you. I’d stay here all the time, if I could.”
He couldn’t see her face as she spoke; he only noticed the subtle hints of blues, greens and purples that dappled along her thin arms. Lucina didn’t speak much of her home or her parents, but he could always feel this sense of his stomach tightening and a heat in his face when he saw her as she was now. She was frail, like the Monarch and the Orange Tip, and she was the only friend he had too.
Lucina came and sat at his feet almost every day that summer, and each day she seemed a little less like the girl he’d seen the day before. The confusing and concerning abnormalities of color seemed to spread further over her small body each time he saw her, until finally he saw that color that he both did and did not understand; that color similar to the sky at sunset, or of Maple leaves in the Fall. She was crying then, sitting with her back against him. The Maple-leaf-colored sap was sliding down her arm, much as the rain was dribbling from her chin. He wanted to reach out and touch her, sing to her, anything to make the rain stop running from her face, but he couldn’t. It was his burden to never move, to never speak the words of men.
The young girl wept a little longer, hunched over as a Weeping Willow might with her hair spread across and down her face. She then slowly picked herself up and turned, so that finally he could see her fully. One of her eyes was dark like soot, and one side of her face looked larger than the other; puffy like a cloud. Nys felt that powerful heat coming over him again. It always made him wish he could move, so that he could stop these things that were upsetting her so. The girl put a soft hand on him, running her fingers over his rough-but-silky skin. She looked a bit distant, a bit sad.
“Nys….I’m going away. I can’t stay here anymore.”
That was all she said to him, all she needed to say. That pain in her eyes told him the rest. He couldn’t stop her, and even if he could he wouldn’t try. As much as he felt for her, as much as he’d miss her, he knew that the Lucina he knew would only continue to fade away the longer she stayed near. He watched with a heavy feeling as she turned and walked back the way she usually did, somehow knowing this would be the last time he’d hear her voice.
Moments shifted and moved and flew past like birds. The touch, the embrace, the sorrowful goodbye. Time flowed endlessly on, never stopping, never slowing. The land began to change. Less others, less birds, more flowers, unknown sounds, homes erected in the far off distance. Of the world around him, he was the one constant. However, after her no one seemed to notice him. He was no more than a single, unimportant figure on a single hill among many hills. Those who ventured to come from their far-off homes never cared to ask who he was or what he was doing. Perhaps he didn’t even know. He simply stood there day by day, staring out into the distance as if waiting for something. What that something was he had not the faintest idea.
Seasons passed and people came and went, leaving trash scattered across the landscape he loved so dearly. In the distance black clouds rose into the sky like pillars of shadow, filling the air with a sickening smell and turning the sky dark. He could feel in his gut that things were changing for the worst, but no matter what he said or how loudly he spoke no one seemed to hear him. They continued on with their lives, ignoring how their actions hurt the environment around them.
Time flowed faster, almost desperately, before him, flickering like a flame that could die at any moment. More people, less sky, less stars, less everything, more something. Plants began to wither, sunlight became stronger, whispers of an end drifted from the Earth and through the air, brushing his face and sifting through his hair. He could feel that soon everything would end, that this hill and his existence would crumble into nothingness. His calls became more desperate, his attempts to get people to listen more earnest. No matter how he tried, it was for nothing. They only continued living in their ignorant bliss, paying no mind to him and his ramblings of life and death. It wasn’t long after that he began to hear the machines.
They rumbled in the distance like thunder, and they shook the Earth below his feet, sending tremors through his body. He could see the small streams of black smoke in the distance, moving back and forth like guards on patrol, then slowly he began to make out little dots of yellow. Suddenly the distant screams of his kin reached him as they were trampled, torn up and eaten, then spit out. He felt a rush of terror overcome him at the realization that they were being killed and he screamed in a panic, his voice rustling with muffled, indiscernible words. The green that once made up his horizon began to turn brown. He knew then that his days were numbered. As each day passed he watched the yellow forms get closer and louder, and the screams of the others never ceased. They cried out in fear, then pain before being helplessly swallowed. The yellow figures moved all around him like vultures, circling him like prey until, finally, he was the only standing thing in sight. The Ash, the Beech, and the Cedar were all gone now as well, lying silent on the sea of brown which spanned out in every direction towards the cities that would soon spread themselves to this place as well. He began to tremble in fear, eyes wide as he watched one move toward him, its sharp, menacing teeth rotating rapidly in its open mouth, ready to consume him. He called out loudly, screamed, begged with tears in his eyes for it to stop, for it to spare him, but the machine was not moved. He stood like a statue, unable to move himself, until finally he felt the first row of teeth scrape and dig into him. He screamed and toppled, trampled over and crushed until…
He stared up at the sky, what remained of it. How was it things had come to be like this? Was he not needed? He felt the stickiness of his blood on his skin, and the splintered bone beneath it. These were the last things he would feel. He heard sounds in the distance, muffled and quiet at first, but then growing louder. His gaze shifted slightly to the side and he saw a wave of people coming. They were wide-eyed and walked as if disoriented, stumbling over the remains of the others and him. They stopped in different places, looking down and putting their hands to their faces as if in shame. Some stooped over him, crying. He stared up at those unfamiliar, differing faces and slowly the features became muddled and blurred until suddenly they were all her. A sea of red hair and smiling faces stirred about him, and he couldn’t help but feel as if all the previous horrors had been nothing more than a nightmare.
“Lucina…” He whispered before his eyes rolled back and he was consumed in the dark of nothingness. It was only her now, her and the faint memory of the green that once covered the Earth. A green that would surely be forgotten.
The first thing that seemed to flash through the little beads of green was shock, perhaps confusion. The lids closed again, and then reopened, as if he thought things might change the second time. Then came the first signs of pain: a creasing brow, fingers tensing and curling stiffly, trembling, aching breath. The creature went from still and seemingly lifeless, to writhing and contorting in moments. He took in a few gasps of air, his eyes now wide. He resembled a fish out of water, gasping for a few more minutes of life. His expressive, frightened eyes shifted about himself, and he seemed horrified to learn that he was the only living thing in sight. What had happened to him? Why? He couldn’t recall how things had come to be like this. All around him were hills of dirt and the others, but they weren’t alive anymore. Their bodies had been uprooted and they were now sprawled on the ground, rotting like fallen soldiers.
The young-looking man tried to pick himself up, tried to move so he could find help, but he hardly made half a sit up before he cried out in pain and lay back again. It seemed he wouldn’t be going anywhere. He panted for air and stared upwards at the sky above, knowing that soon he wouldn’t see it anymore. His life was bleeding out fast; already he could feel himself getting numb. As he lay there, waiting to die, memories began to flood his mind. Maybe it was his neurons firing in his last moments, or maybe he just didn’t want to die feeling so alone. No matter the reason the sounds, images and emotions of the past came rushing through him once more, playing out before him like a dream which he had no control over.
It was the first day of many days that he could remember. The sun was especially warm and the air was thick and moist. He was standing at the top of a hill, his hill, with the grass and the living others all around him, a blue sky above. He could hear the Ash and the Beech whispering sweetly to eachother nearby, and he could see Cedar on the other hill, brooding as he usually did. Robins and Red-Winged Blackbirds fluttered overhead and in between, chattering and chirping gaily to one another. It felt like a day full of magic, where anything could be possible. This hill that he had lived on all his life was his favorite place in the world. He didn’t need to be anywhere else, see anything else, hear anything else; to him this hill was his existence. He wasn’t certain how much time had passed while standing on that hill, looking out; only that everything seemed to move slower when he heard her laugh.
A little girl, no older than twelve, stood before him, looking up at him with vibrant, green eyes. She had red hair that sloped and curled about her young face, nearly hiding it in a fiery sea of crimson. The sunlight seemed to catch in her hair, making it seem like many, shimmering strands of gold woven atop her tiny head.
“Hi, Nys.” She smiled, her voice reminding him of Honeydew. She had named him that, though he had no idea why. They had met a few weeks before. He was standing on the hill looking out as he often did, and she had seemingly come out of nowhere; like an idea. She thought he was beautiful, the way he stood there so resolutely, and had no qualms saying so directly. Nys, however, was a very quiet, timid speaker. In fact he spoke so quietly it would be hard to hear unless you listened with every portion of your being. His voice was a whisper rustling through the tree branches. She seemed to understand him well enough, however, and he found her to be a good companion. It made this hill seem a little less empty, somehow. He wasn’t certain, but from what she told him she and her parents had moved somewhere nearby. There was nothing but country all around, at least as far as he could see, so he supposed this made him one of her only friends.
The girl, Lucina, plopped down at his feet, staring out like he did. This was his favorite time, where they could simply bask in the freedom and complexity of nature. There were no words that needed to be spoken; everything was said through the stirring of leaves and the chirping of birds. There were a few minutes of silence before her voice stirred again.
“Nys, I like sitting out here with you. I’d stay here all the time, if I could.”
He couldn’t see her face as she spoke; he only noticed the subtle hints of blues, greens and purples that dappled along her thin arms. Lucina didn’t speak much of her home or her parents, but he could always feel this sense of his stomach tightening and a heat in his face when he saw her as she was now. She was frail, like the Monarch and the Orange Tip, and she was the only friend he had too.
Lucina came and sat at his feet almost every day that summer, and each day she seemed a little less like the girl he’d seen the day before. The confusing and concerning abnormalities of color seemed to spread further over her small body each time he saw her, until finally he saw that color that he both did and did not understand; that color similar to the sky at sunset, or of Maple leaves in the Fall. She was crying then, sitting with her back against him. The Maple-leaf-colored sap was sliding down her arm, much as the rain was dribbling from her chin. He wanted to reach out and touch her, sing to her, anything to make the rain stop running from her face, but he couldn’t. It was his burden to never move, to never speak the words of men.
The young girl wept a little longer, hunched over as a Weeping Willow might with her hair spread across and down her face. She then slowly picked herself up and turned, so that finally he could see her fully. One of her eyes was dark like soot, and one side of her face looked larger than the other; puffy like a cloud. Nys felt that powerful heat coming over him again. It always made him wish he could move, so that he could stop these things that were upsetting her so. The girl put a soft hand on him, running her fingers over his rough-but-silky skin. She looked a bit distant, a bit sad.
“Nys….I’m going away. I can’t stay here anymore.”
That was all she said to him, all she needed to say. That pain in her eyes told him the rest. He couldn’t stop her, and even if he could he wouldn’t try. As much as he felt for her, as much as he’d miss her, he knew that the Lucina he knew would only continue to fade away the longer she stayed near. He watched with a heavy feeling as she turned and walked back the way she usually did, somehow knowing this would be the last time he’d hear her voice.
Moments shifted and moved and flew past like birds. The touch, the embrace, the sorrowful goodbye. Time flowed endlessly on, never stopping, never slowing. The land began to change. Less others, less birds, more flowers, unknown sounds, homes erected in the far off distance. Of the world around him, he was the one constant. However, after her no one seemed to notice him. He was no more than a single, unimportant figure on a single hill among many hills. Those who ventured to come from their far-off homes never cared to ask who he was or what he was doing. Perhaps he didn’t even know. He simply stood there day by day, staring out into the distance as if waiting for something. What that something was he had not the faintest idea.
Seasons passed and people came and went, leaving trash scattered across the landscape he loved so dearly. In the distance black clouds rose into the sky like pillars of shadow, filling the air with a sickening smell and turning the sky dark. He could feel in his gut that things were changing for the worst, but no matter what he said or how loudly he spoke no one seemed to hear him. They continued on with their lives, ignoring how their actions hurt the environment around them.
Time flowed faster, almost desperately, before him, flickering like a flame that could die at any moment. More people, less sky, less stars, less everything, more something. Plants began to wither, sunlight became stronger, whispers of an end drifted from the Earth and through the air, brushing his face and sifting through his hair. He could feel that soon everything would end, that this hill and his existence would crumble into nothingness. His calls became more desperate, his attempts to get people to listen more earnest. No matter how he tried, it was for nothing. They only continued living in their ignorant bliss, paying no mind to him and his ramblings of life and death. It wasn’t long after that he began to hear the machines.
They rumbled in the distance like thunder, and they shook the Earth below his feet, sending tremors through his body. He could see the small streams of black smoke in the distance, moving back and forth like guards on patrol, then slowly he began to make out little dots of yellow. Suddenly the distant screams of his kin reached him as they were trampled, torn up and eaten, then spit out. He felt a rush of terror overcome him at the realization that they were being killed and he screamed in a panic, his voice rustling with muffled, indiscernible words. The green that once made up his horizon began to turn brown. He knew then that his days were numbered. As each day passed he watched the yellow forms get closer and louder, and the screams of the others never ceased. They cried out in fear, then pain before being helplessly swallowed. The yellow figures moved all around him like vultures, circling him like prey until, finally, he was the only standing thing in sight. The Ash, the Beech, and the Cedar were all gone now as well, lying silent on the sea of brown which spanned out in every direction towards the cities that would soon spread themselves to this place as well. He began to tremble in fear, eyes wide as he watched one move toward him, its sharp, menacing teeth rotating rapidly in its open mouth, ready to consume him. He called out loudly, screamed, begged with tears in his eyes for it to stop, for it to spare him, but the machine was not moved. He stood like a statue, unable to move himself, until finally he felt the first row of teeth scrape and dig into him. He screamed and toppled, trampled over and crushed until…
He stared up at the sky, what remained of it. How was it things had come to be like this? Was he not needed? He felt the stickiness of his blood on his skin, and the splintered bone beneath it. These were the last things he would feel. He heard sounds in the distance, muffled and quiet at first, but then growing louder. His gaze shifted slightly to the side and he saw a wave of people coming. They were wide-eyed and walked as if disoriented, stumbling over the remains of the others and him. They stopped in different places, looking down and putting their hands to their faces as if in shame. Some stooped over him, crying. He stared up at those unfamiliar, differing faces and slowly the features became muddled and blurred until suddenly they were all her. A sea of red hair and smiling faces stirred about him, and he couldn’t help but feel as if all the previous horrors had been nothing more than a nightmare.
“Lucina…” He whispered before his eyes rolled back and he was consumed in the dark of nothingness. It was only her now, her and the faint memory of the green that once covered the Earth. A green that would surely be forgotten.
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