By Mia and Halle-Beth Jones
As I stand on a hill, strong and proud, I look out to the valley below me, my branches gently sway in the breeze and birds sing songs in my branches. Flowers bloom all around me and rabbits dig burrows; the air is filled with life and I feel content. At the bottom of the hill I stand on, there is a vast stretch of land. Green fields lay filled with ferns. For years and years, I’ve stood here watching a peace full world.
The rise of civilization has flashed before me. I look out to the bottom of my hill and see huts and farms and young children running around. Shouts fill the air by day as farmers work on their fields. Sometimes a young child will be brave enough to climb the hill that I stand on and sit in the shade of my branches. Slowly I see before me a species that is quickly advancing, and I think to myself what will happen to the little valley as these towns of people grow.
The humans are destroying the valley. It has been torn away tree by tree, fern by fern and animal by animal. As I look down from my hill so thankfully untouched by the stain that stretches across the land, thick black smoke fills the air above the mountain, and I wonder how these people are not yet dead. My branches that were once filled with the song of birds and the chatter of squirrels, feel a bit lonely now. For only a few decades, I’ve stood here watching a slowly dying world.
The grass that was once vibrant green in colour , is now replaced with a brown, dry patch. The shrunken once radiant sun scowled above me taking with it all of what precious nutrients that were left in me. My roots sink deeper and deeper under ground searching for any remnants of water.
What have these barbarians done to my land? How dare they take away the only sanctuary the world has left. Who do these people think they are?
The air turned black as an icy finger gripped my arm I gave up to the darkness. There was nothing left to do except dream, dream of the world I use to live in, dream of the place I use to call home.