The air feels stale and the smoke is suffocating. With the burning of the forests, the City of Concrete has been expanding at an exponential rate. Being poisoned by the metals, the population of wood nymphs has drastically decreased. She tries to hold on for as long as possible, putting the little ones to their forever sleep, before she too has to go. Yet, with every second, her reality is fizzling out and along with it, her sanity.
As she lies down on the trunk for a rest, she cannot help but reminisce on the happier moments – the times when everyone would be running around happily helping the earthlings with their harvests or the times when they would dance and party around the Tree of Life. But those days are over. Soon, they will be remembered only as characters in a folk tale, stories told at bedtime to amuse little children.
The neglected forests.
The forgotten people.
She tears a little as she thinks about what could have been if the City of Concrete did not exist. Maybe it is time for her to sleep too.
Photo by mariyaolshevska
Prompt: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt #236 “It’s All In The Title”