Death of innocence
Story:
Blind from the storm and crawling on the ground, strange objects appear
under my hands. There, under my
body, lay ribbed objects of varying sizes and shapes.
They’re collapsing under the weight of my body.
I can feel a wet, sticky substance oozing between my fingers; but I keep
crawling. The wind keeps yelling and
howling as it passes over my beaten body. The
cloud is furious because of my escape. Exhausted,
I cover my face and as the monster rakes the earth looking for the one that got
away. I can feel nothing, nor hear
my heart. I am going to a place of
comfort, a place that only I can enter. I
look but see nothing, as cool darkness ascends upon my face as my body becomes
limp and useless. I have gone to a
sanctuary of my invention, I have slipped into unconsciousness. I will rest for
awhile before deciphering my escape.
Morning comes with the sun just peeking over the rim of the plateau.
I am hidden. Has the sun seen
me yet? I think not.
I wipe the sand from my eyes as I turn onto my back.
I am still nauseous from my ride. It
is when I roll onto my side that I cannot believe my eyes.
I am surrounded by perhaps two hundred small creatures.
They are staring at me and I dare not make any sudden moves.
I am surrounded for approximately one hundred feet in all directions.
As I fight to regain my sight and composure, I notice a dead calm, a
sense of loathing. I cannot even
hear them breath! I look around, and
finally, slowly, see what has happened. In
my haste to save myself from the tornado, I have crawled through a herd of these
small, docile creatures; and from what I can tell, I have killed many!
The ground is strewn with carcasses of the dead.
It was these fragile creatures who were being crushed under my weight as
I crawled to safety by using their hiding place to save myself!
I have killed perhaps 20 of the females!
I know they were females because the unborn lay everywhere!
The mortality was appalling. The
smell of death was disgusting, yet not one moved or shown the emotion this
terror deserved! I didn’t know
what to do. I sat up and then when
the enormity of what I had done sank in, I froze in disbelief.
The wounded and dieing lay decomposing in the hot morning sun.
I had the internal, dried remains of bodily fluids stuck to my palms and
their dried blood mixed with earth covering my chest.
Silently and courageously they mourned their dead and dieing.
The sight was almost too much for me to bear.
Many hid under and behind green shields, their tribe color.
The young hid close to the ground and were silenced by the elders.
In an effort to save myself, I have inadvertently killed hundreds of
these docile, cuddly creatures and their young!
I cannot keep my composure, I begin to weep.
I believe I have compassion for other living things and I would never
knowingly harm another living thing to save myself.
Yet here I sit, being judged; perhaps not for the atrocity itself, but
for the sheer absurdity and carelessness in which brought it about.
Hundreds lay dead before my weeping eyes, and I can do nothing about it.
The tribe has not moved, and like the rocks, the tribe has yet to show
any emotion. Can it be they don’t
blame me? Can they possibly
understand I did not mean it? Do
they, for an instant believe what lay before them is a terrible, terrible
accident? Have they forgiven me,
knowing it was an accident? There
was no malicious intent; I was blind and lost.
I realize there is nothing I can say or do to bring back their children,
their loved ones and I fear reprisal. Don’t
they know this? They’ve made no
attempt at rescue or burial. I feel
it best if I go, leave them in their grief.
I think they are waiting for me to go; neither death nor a fight is at
hand. Simply, silent grieving.
I cannot stop my tears as I rise to my knees and with great pain and
effort finally to my feet. One last
time I look at the death and devastation I have wrought.
As I begin to walk away I mutter, ever so silently, ‘I’m sorry.’
I look back to see the green shields moving in the wind.
I’m glad they are moving about. I
was right; they were waiting for me to leave before dealing with this tragedy.
They did not seem vicious, but I have learned one can hardly tell.
I am thankful they were forgiving, companionate, creatures.
For lack of a better word, I will call these creatures, ‘pumpkins’.
RJ