Darkness is leaking into every corner of the forest. Frightening, to say the least. So dark, your eyes’ inability to adjust pressures you into closing them completely. The moon, which once was your only source of light, of hope, is now hiding behind piles of floating stone, protecting itself from the enemy, leaving you there, bare. Naked. Deserted as it is, the place took upon itself an alarming mood of distress. But it isn't coming from you.
Strange.
You shake your head, trying to see if you can agitate the air, get some sort of reaction. Everything, so alive, yet so dead.
The trees moan as the cold wind strikes through them, cooling them to their skeleton. Their pain is noticeable. Your regret is too.
You do not fit in here, in the forest. You are not accepted here. Not anymore.
You are being blamed for what your species did, and how you followed. The destruction they caused. To nature, to something so pure. So humble. So unique. Not anymore. Now it is all dark, monstrous, bland, in pain.
If only humanity was not a phenomenon of destruction, but rather of construction.
Then you remember that time when—when..
Nature was the gold, for it echoed with the golden light of the soul and into eternity.
The trees were dancing ladies, each in dresses more fabulous than any designer could have ever crafted. They moved, choreographed by the wind, in perfect time with one another. The sun shone, the birds sang, your heart danced.
You finished your coffee. Too careless to care. Too selfish to understand. By the time you were able to think things through, the plastic cup was already on the floor, and you were too far to remember.
That was only the beginning.
Of this.
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