My eyes open.
Around me are six surfaces, each of them a good and equal distance. Trees hang by their roots above me, reaching down to touch my head, while flowers tangle at my feet. The walls of the cube are filled with things in a garden, animals moving down and across each, the center of gravity beneath them, as if each wall is it's own ground.
But one wall is a plane grey, shimmering like a silver fish in the omnipresent light. My curiosity peaks as I watch it, flowing like a sea. Mechanical sounds reverberate from it as I near, and I stop, turning to look at the beauty surrounding me. This is what I awoke to, this strange, gravity-defied gloriousness touched by the hand of God.
I distance myself from the silver wall, brushing my fingers over the soft grass lining one of the walls. I press my body against it, testing a theory of mine. Would gravity shift if I did so myself?
As if on cue, the room seemed to tilt, and I was laying on the very green grass. I close my eyes and take in the serenity wrapping itself around me. If I wasn't so at ease, my heart wouldn't be able to take the strangeness of this world.
The pond in the center of the wall laps along its shore, ducks quacking and swimming in a row along its surface. I smile to myself, letting the warmth take me over.
My peace is interrupted by the sounds of machines, growing louder from behind the different wall. I turn to look at it, directly across from me now, to see that it is brown and murky. Animals join with the chaos behind the wall, frightened and threatening. What could be happening behind that wall?
I shake my head, standing and walking around the small body of water, attempting to push the unease from my system. Whatever reason I'm here for, isn't it for my benefit? Shouldn't everything I do, and everything that happens to me, be to make me happy?
The trees beg for me to run through them as I near, and I peer back at the little ducklings as they cuddle with their mother. They're so happy. That is what a family should be.
I lift my foot onto the tree-ceiling, and feel gravity shift once again. Squirrels play overhead and chatter above with the birds. The only thing I should be worried about is tree debris falling down onto me, but I can't help but think about the weird wall. What is happening with it?
Chainsaws join in with the cacophony of mechanics, cuddling my blood. I rush through the trees and look down at it, the sounds making my ears ring.
It's just below my toes, rippling like the ocean in a storm. The color has changed once again, black as soot. I'm afraid of what is hidden behind it, but the noise is so overbearing and my curiosity is too much for me to handle, so I step onto the surface.
It stills.
Gravity centers and holds me to it.
And then, I'm sucked through.
Black fills my vision as I'm spat out onto a cement sidewalk.
Im once again in a cube. The putrid, metallic air makes me cough, and I cover my nose with my shirt.
Fake grass lines just around the gun-stained cement, rusted cars broken down in the small road attached to it. A vacant, torn down house sits before me, the lights inside flickering. Above me are more buildings, strings attached to lights dangling above the houses, one tree poking through. To my left are machines, those that made the noises from the other side. They're digging up the trees and setting things on fire to get rid of them. To my right is a land filled with eco-destroying waste. And, before me, on the wall that had the pond in the other cube, is the pond, drained and lifeless. I can see the ducks from where I stand, the mother a strangled, bloody corpse, while one baby waddles, crying out to whoever will help, covered in black oil.
Tears spring to life as I back up, horrified at what I see. The contrast is terrifying. I want to go back.
My spine hits the wall, and I wait, while the sounds consume me. Everything is gone. The peace has disappeared, and is replaced with disgust. I don't understand.
I turn to the wall that was silver, now glowing a bright green, pounding on it.
"I want to go back!" I sob, the truth sinking into my chest and ripping me apart from the inside out. The wall is still. It doesn't ripple, and there are no sounds.
The mechanics are suddenly silenced, and I turn back around. There is only one sound now: the baby duckling wailing over its deceased mother.
I sprint to it, careful not to trip on any rusted parts, and I don't wait for gravity to shift as I run to the pond and take it into my arms. It tries to scurry away, but I catch it in time, shushing it, my tears rolling off it's feathers.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper to the little duck, the oil saturating it smearing onto me.
It wriggles from my grasp, waddling back over to its mother and siblings, quiet now. I dig my fingers into the soft dirt and dig a hole big enough for her, and I set her in, snuggling her babies right up next to her, sniffling as more tears wash over my now dirty face.
A soft prayer slides off my lips and I return the dirt to the place I'd taken it from. The duckling is quiet still, and walks onto his mothers grave. I can feel it's sadness as it radiates from its tiny body.
The ducks eyes lift to me and it quacks lightly. I take it in my hands and move into the house, spotting the sink immediately. I run the duck under some warm water, thankful it still runs, and use the soap to clean it off. I am alone in this square world. Alone except for the duck, who I finish cleaning off.
I realize I know this house. It's my own. Was my own. Run down and devastatingly wasteful to the area around it.
As I walk outside, I step on something large and round.
A seed.
I look up, where the only tree above me reaches down to me as it withers away with time. It's leaves are old and are falling to the ground its roots are attached to, but, somehow, its seed had made it down here to me.
I pick it up with my free hand, turning it, examining it. Trying to balance the duck, I make my way further from the house, and kneel down, placing the duckling onto the grass beside me. I peel up the fake grass, getting to the soil below, and place the seed just beneath the surface. I run back inside and get a cup full of water, pouring some on top of the little seed.
The duck comes back over to me, and I rest it in my lap, staring at the place I put the seed. I know they don't grow fast, but something inside me is determined. This tree needs to grow.
And then, it does.
It springs up, almost magically, startling both the duck and me. I stand, animal in hand, and watch in awe as nature begins to take back over. Grass dances over the cars and vines stretch happily over the buildings, turning the horrid into something beautiful. The oil disappears from the water and it refills, the machines coming to a halt and are taken over by trees and flowers and roots and bushes.
The joy begins to shudder back into my heart, chipping away at the fear.
Behind me, the green wall begins to ripple and animals begin to dart through, making this their new home. The last to come through are the ducks, and I smile and laugh happily, letting the magic of nature fill me back up.
I was wrong. Not everything will benefit me, and not everything I do should benefit me. Everything I do should be for someone else, for God, and, finally, for the good of this world.
And as my eyes open to my torn-up room, exploding from my dream, I feel happiness wash over me. I will share this knowledge, and I will open the eyes of those who are blind to this truth.
We must love earth as it loves us.
Around me are six surfaces, each of them a good and equal distance. Trees hang by their roots above me, reaching down to touch my head, while flowers tangle at my feet. The walls of the cube are filled with things in a garden, animals moving down and across each, the center of gravity beneath them, as if each wall is it's own ground.
But one wall is a plane grey, shimmering like a silver fish in the omnipresent light. My curiosity peaks as I watch it, flowing like a sea. Mechanical sounds reverberate from it as I near, and I stop, turning to look at the beauty surrounding me. This is what I awoke to, this strange, gravity-defied gloriousness touched by the hand of God.
I distance myself from the silver wall, brushing my fingers over the soft grass lining one of the walls. I press my body against it, testing a theory of mine. Would gravity shift if I did so myself?
As if on cue, the room seemed to tilt, and I was laying on the very green grass. I close my eyes and take in the serenity wrapping itself around me. If I wasn't so at ease, my heart wouldn't be able to take the strangeness of this world.
The pond in the center of the wall laps along its shore, ducks quacking and swimming in a row along its surface. I smile to myself, letting the warmth take me over.
My peace is interrupted by the sounds of machines, growing louder from behind the different wall. I turn to look at it, directly across from me now, to see that it is brown and murky. Animals join with the chaos behind the wall, frightened and threatening. What could be happening behind that wall?
I shake my head, standing and walking around the small body of water, attempting to push the unease from my system. Whatever reason I'm here for, isn't it for my benefit? Shouldn't everything I do, and everything that happens to me, be to make me happy?
The trees beg for me to run through them as I near, and I peer back at the little ducklings as they cuddle with their mother. They're so happy. That is what a family should be.
I lift my foot onto the tree-ceiling, and feel gravity shift once again. Squirrels play overhead and chatter above with the birds. The only thing I should be worried about is tree debris falling down onto me, but I can't help but think about the weird wall. What is happening with it?
Chainsaws join in with the cacophony of mechanics, cuddling my blood. I rush through the trees and look down at it, the sounds making my ears ring.
It's just below my toes, rippling like the ocean in a storm. The color has changed once again, black as soot. I'm afraid of what is hidden behind it, but the noise is so overbearing and my curiosity is too much for me to handle, so I step onto the surface.
It stills.
Gravity centers and holds me to it.
And then, I'm sucked through.
Black fills my vision as I'm spat out onto a cement sidewalk.
Im once again in a cube. The putrid, metallic air makes me cough, and I cover my nose with my shirt.
Fake grass lines just around the gun-stained cement, rusted cars broken down in the small road attached to it. A vacant, torn down house sits before me, the lights inside flickering. Above me are more buildings, strings attached to lights dangling above the houses, one tree poking through. To my left are machines, those that made the noises from the other side. They're digging up the trees and setting things on fire to get rid of them. To my right is a land filled with eco-destroying waste. And, before me, on the wall that had the pond in the other cube, is the pond, drained and lifeless. I can see the ducks from where I stand, the mother a strangled, bloody corpse, while one baby waddles, crying out to whoever will help, covered in black oil.
Tears spring to life as I back up, horrified at what I see. The contrast is terrifying. I want to go back.
My spine hits the wall, and I wait, while the sounds consume me. Everything is gone. The peace has disappeared, and is replaced with disgust. I don't understand.
I turn to the wall that was silver, now glowing a bright green, pounding on it.
"I want to go back!" I sob, the truth sinking into my chest and ripping me apart from the inside out. The wall is still. It doesn't ripple, and there are no sounds.
The mechanics are suddenly silenced, and I turn back around. There is only one sound now: the baby duckling wailing over its deceased mother.
I sprint to it, careful not to trip on any rusted parts, and I don't wait for gravity to shift as I run to the pond and take it into my arms. It tries to scurry away, but I catch it in time, shushing it, my tears rolling off it's feathers.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper to the little duck, the oil saturating it smearing onto me.
It wriggles from my grasp, waddling back over to its mother and siblings, quiet now. I dig my fingers into the soft dirt and dig a hole big enough for her, and I set her in, snuggling her babies right up next to her, sniffling as more tears wash over my now dirty face.
A soft prayer slides off my lips and I return the dirt to the place I'd taken it from. The duckling is quiet still, and walks onto his mothers grave. I can feel it's sadness as it radiates from its tiny body.
The ducks eyes lift to me and it quacks lightly. I take it in my hands and move into the house, spotting the sink immediately. I run the duck under some warm water, thankful it still runs, and use the soap to clean it off. I am alone in this square world. Alone except for the duck, who I finish cleaning off.
I realize I know this house. It's my own. Was my own. Run down and devastatingly wasteful to the area around it.
As I walk outside, I step on something large and round.
A seed.
I look up, where the only tree above me reaches down to me as it withers away with time. It's leaves are old and are falling to the ground its roots are attached to, but, somehow, its seed had made it down here to me.
I pick it up with my free hand, turning it, examining it. Trying to balance the duck, I make my way further from the house, and kneel down, placing the duckling onto the grass beside me. I peel up the fake grass, getting to the soil below, and place the seed just beneath the surface. I run back inside and get a cup full of water, pouring some on top of the little seed.
The duck comes back over to me, and I rest it in my lap, staring at the place I put the seed. I know they don't grow fast, but something inside me is determined. This tree needs to grow.
And then, it does.
It springs up, almost magically, startling both the duck and me. I stand, animal in hand, and watch in awe as nature begins to take back over. Grass dances over the cars and vines stretch happily over the buildings, turning the horrid into something beautiful. The oil disappears from the water and it refills, the machines coming to a halt and are taken over by trees and flowers and roots and bushes.
The joy begins to shudder back into my heart, chipping away at the fear.
Behind me, the green wall begins to ripple and animals begin to dart through, making this their new home. The last to come through are the ducks, and I smile and laugh happily, letting the magic of nature fill me back up.
I was wrong. Not everything will benefit me, and not everything I do should benefit me. Everything I do should be for someone else, for God, and, finally, for the good of this world.
And as my eyes open to my torn-up room, exploding from my dream, I feel happiness wash over me. I will share this knowledge, and I will open the eyes of those who are blind to this truth.
We must love earth as it loves us.
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