One morning, a beautiful, flower blossomed, resplendent in her innocence. She opened her eyes, smiled at her mother, swaying gently on the next stem. She noticed green grass and a cacophony of birds, singing on the tree nearby. A squirrel ran around her stems, tickling her. She tilted her head towards the sky and saw a monstrous, grotesque, tall prison with a strange animal peeking from the bars that held them, eagerly looking at them. She asked her mom “Who is this”? Mumma laughed and said- This is a creature called Hooman.
Buddy- loved the lilt of the name “HOOMAN “. Curious, she asked why they were confined to a cage? It’s a prison of their own choice,” she breathed, as the clouds darkened and moonlight skimmed the ground. She softly closed her eyes to sleep. Sleep evaded her, as she could not shake the odd Human out of her mind. The squirrel darted by “They’re not gentle, these Humans,” he spoke quietly. “They harm the Earth—plants, animals, even the air.” A tiny bee, grappling to fly, whispered. “They torched my hive, my kin were burnt cinder”. A pigeon mussed and cooed “They shot my family for sport, and I can never fly again. My family are extinct “
Buddy mortified looked over at the tall, old Ashoka tree standing close by. His barks were lined with age and grief. “Little one,” it growled, “look at that stump, a friend of mine, cut by Humans to make roads and highways. They have rebuilt the planet with cement and concrete. Their machines cover the sky with smoke, obscuring the stars. “They have chopped trees, stripped and torn down the mountains, poisoned the oceans. All in the name of evolution and progress. But in the process, they’ve lost the planet.”
“WE ARE THE REMNANTS,A STARK REMINDER OF THE WORLD AS IT SHOULD BE”
Buddy slept, reeling from what she’d heard. She dreamt , tormented by infernos smudged skies, and suffocating winds. She woke up choking She realized, they were sealed within a gleaming glass dome, tended by a figure in white with no face. A desolate wasteland stretched out in all directions beyond it. Trees were gone, animals did not exist, and humans roamed a desolate world, masked, breathing oxygen from tanks. The sky was green, dull, acid rain pattered, and food was cultivated in sterile labs. War was fought over water-a rare commodity.
It was the year 3000 A.D.
A week passed by, she would wait eagerly for the white, angel to visit daily, caring for her and her friends all around her. She wanted to thank the angel. But she was shy and could never muster courage to do so. One evening, her tendrils outstretched towards the angel, hope in heart. The figure, with gleaming eyes, hidden behind a veil, plucked her and transferred her to a crypt. “OUCH,” Buddy wheezed, the air thick, stifling and closing besides her as she saw her mother lying dead inside.
She heard a nauseating snap and noticed Ashoka toppled down, leaving a wake of destruction- her friends all reduced to dust. Human vultures swooped, stripping the wood, of final shreds of life. The crypt exploded in her anguish and pain, having seen her world crumbling down. Shards devoured the air. Buddy was consumed in the darkness and helplessness. The last voice of reasoning and rationale lost in oblivion—leaving behind a wake of hunger, desperation and a deafening silence. The silence broken by the piercing shrieks of human scavengers howling, “THEY WERE THE LAST ONES STANDING”