Mother

They couldn't stop now. The cool wind whistled a somber tune in the early light of dawn. The fog added a surreal haze to the plain, making the scene appear as if it had been stolen from a vague, faraway dream. An overall feeling of apathetic, suppressed anxiety reigned over the flat expanse of land.

The slim figure trudged over the bleak terrain, shivering in the brisk morning air. They made their way across the scene, concern and exhaustion battling each other in their expression. They were close to despair, but labored on, dragging their feet across the mundane expanse.

They couldn't stop now, not after they'd come so far. Yet they knew that no matter how far they'd come, they still had much, much more to go. Forever to go.

They couldn't stop now. The cold bit at their hands; they shrank back into the coat that was far too light. They sighed, and the wind seemed to echo their voice in a mocking tone. "You'll never get out alive," it seemed to say.

They couldn't stop now. But the voice was right; of course it was. One cannot cheat the Earth; one cannot escape her. No matter how far we run, we will always return. No matter how thin we wear ourselves, she always calls us home. We will always heed her call.

The figure slumped, exhaustion taking over. They could not rise, could not continue. It was futile; for no matter how arrogant we become in our mastery of the natural world, it does not concern itself. It watches us with amusement, a distant parent mildly interested in the project of its young. But one day or another, it always has enough of our pretentious claims of understanding.

The figure watched helplessly as a great chasm opened, intimidating in its size and raw power. With their last breath, they cursed the ground; and were immediately swallowed by the mouth of the Earth.