Creative writing

I look up in confusion, staring at what I think is a waterfall that is trickling down the cliff side which has rotting debris constantly flowing over with it. The sky? I don’t even know what that looks like anymore, it has been plastered with a thick layer of smog that infuses the air with an indescribable stench.  My ears tune into the sound of sick screeching animals that have inhaled the smog.

What has this world come to? I wonder to myself.  We used to live in such a beautiful place. “Now what, what comes next, who comes next.” I turn around looking back at the forest, looking back at the struggling trees. How has this happened. How have we done this to our once thriving planet, I don’t know whether to love or to hate it. Without this world nothing would exist, but with it nothing wants to be existent. My mind drifts off into a perfect world, a world where the sky is blue, the grass is green, and the forests along with oceans are booming with animal life.

My mind abruptly snaps back and feel my taste buds tingle with the intense flavor of smoke, and that’s when I realize that I’m back, back in reality. I walk over to the murky pond where the waterfall runs into. I bend over and I feel my feet being drowned by the brown murk that is seeping through the holes in my worn out boots. I look over hoping I can see my reflection, hoping that maybe not all in this world has been ruined, but I can’t. All I see is brown. I extend my arm out to touch it, the thick sensation of the water weird, it’s like slime.  The stink of the rotting debris overflows my nostrils with a scent that I don’t want to be there.

I focus back on the top of the waterfall at the edges. Around where the trees once were. Around where the monkeys used to swing, around where the birds used to fly.  Now all that is left are deteriorating tree stumps. It makes me really sad to think what us humans have done to this planet, what we have done to our own home.

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