The sun cast a sleepy eye over the cloudless horizon that drenched the skyline in a blinding orange glow and cast ominous, dark shadows on the dry, barren wasteland I call home. Beneath, the unfriendly terrain of the brown earth cracked and crinkled like a weathered octogenarian. Her skin has not felt the fresh, dewy touch of invisible moisture, the taste of tasteless water, the sight of grey mist. She has not felt clear white droplets beat down on her like an army and seep into her hollow veins for a long time.
Neither have I.
I sighed, not in despair, but in recognition of an impending doom. I knew without a doubt the human race had forsaken me.
Once upon a time, I had many friends around me. They towered high above me, with girths twice mine and roots that clawed deep into the deliciously soft, black soil. Their rich, green leaves, bunched together, tinkled in a rush in the wind and tickled me teasingly when I lean in for the perfumed scent of their fruits.
At night, the pitter-patter of squirrels and little creatures on our arms kept us entertained. At dawn, it was the curious formation of red ants as they tiptoed in a frenzied line over roots with the odd dead insect in tow.
Life was a symphony orchestra playing a beautiful song for us.
Then came the explosion. It wiped out everything in one sweeping flash of white light. Brother Jok who used to stand right there, in my path, disintegrated in an instant, leaving only the shadow of his existence imprinted on my surface like a scar, a reminder of the tree that saved my life.
That was so very long ago.
No man, animal or tree has been seen since. Occasionally, a lone eagle soars higher and further in futile search for food, its pace carefully languid for the long journey back. It never comes back.
I tried to cry a tear but nothing came from my empty husk nor the mangled remains of my lifeless arms. Only a wasted splinter cracked loose from my body and fell to the ground like falling leaves.
I shut my vision of this desolate world, unable to take it any longer.
I collapsed inward like a child, inconsolable, broken. Sobbing without tears in a heart without hope.
Suddenly I heard a faint human shout.
I peered out into the world again, wondering if I was a ghost. Or if the matchstick figures slowly crossing the devastated lands were.
The shouts were louder and more excited as they got near me. A man in the front, wearing standard military uniform and a gas mask signalled to the others and, from beyond the red line, a truck carrying a heavy container lumbered into view.
I felt my heart lift in joy.
They had not abandoned my kind.
They had come. For me.
