You are a flourishing, effervescent, verdant plant waiting to explore the uncertainty of joy the world could deliver. You are wishing with every fibre in you, from your highest stem to your deepest root, to expand your knowledge with the hopes of gaining an overall peace of mind that the world fulfils every need one could have. The naivety you allowed to flood your roots has drastically underprepared you for the tragedies you will face throughout this journey.
Your senses are being bombarded by deafening, repetitive rattles of the weapons, which battle for superiority over the intrusive yelps from the crying babies, whom mothers attempt to comfort while hiding their unshed tears-those threatening to descend at any moment.
You look left.
Your brightest leaf has begun to droop; it reveals the physical toll war enforces, because just witnessing the tragedies has forced the impact of grief to emanate a muted hue in comparison to your primary appearance.
You look right.
You have embraced the knowledge that humanity is failing; you watch grown men eradicate life and joy from peoples’ eyes with no remorse attempting to cloud their features. You are starting to be accustomed to the idea humanity isn’t everything it’s made up to be and with that realisation you have embraced a melancholy stature. You are the only external being with enough emotion for a public display of penitence.
Emotion has overcome you (which is understandable) but to survive in this hostile planet you need not allow the guilt to pervade you. You glance right, noticing a small child bundled within themselves, trying to escape reality, when an equally fragile, yet substantially taller, being advances in your direction. You notice a malicious glint behind the taller mortal’s eyes and realise this look can only be followed by an act of selfishness masked by self-preservation, opening your mindset to distrust and distain replacing any prior innocence. The being takes one final step, then comes to a halt beside the child, less than five metres from you, allowing a view of every detail, enhancing the scene before you. Confusion and sorrow cause you to shrink, suffuse to brown, fading from existence. The being circles the child like a hawk circling its prey and with one blow to the small frame, it flips over revealing a small loaf of bread. The large being retrieves it and flees. The small body lies lifeless in the street when a cloaked figure advances from the direction the coward fled, places a comforting hand on the child and allows it to dissipate to a place where one finds peace.
It looks directly at you, summons you and places a hand on you, but you don’t travel far. Substituting the child’s place in the world: shrivelled, discarded and left for dead. At that realisation, the final ounce of colour has drained from your body.