I Stand Alone

First person story from a non-sentient life form.

Drifting, floating. Oh my, this is fun.  I float for a while. I land gently in a field of grass; alone.

 

I reach down trough grass and dirt, searching for water. There, I found some, AHH. The sun warms me through and through.

 

The grass begins to block the warmth. I must stretch to reach find any. So, I stretch. Water and sun drive me day by day. I extend my legs and toes to find water; my arms and fingers to gather more of the suns warmth.

 

Sometimes the sun does not warm me but water hits every part of me. I do not have to search for water at these times. Sometimes the sun does not warm me and it gets cold for periods. The wind is cold too.  My legs and toes are fine. Water is abundant.  These periods of cold are short though.

 

I see others. Others like me, searching for warmth and water. Do they see me? The wind blows harder and my arms and fingers wave and shake. Do they see me? My body no longer bends in the wind unless it is very strong. My legs and toes are deep into the dirt.  I have found water plentiful here. As long as the sun warms me and I have my water, I will grow and thrive.

 

Seasons of cold water and hot sunshine come and go. I wave to my brethren when I can. They have grown in numbers over the seasons. Yet, I stand alone, apart from the others. I wonder if they will come to meet me here, as I cannot go to them.

 

Oh the pain! Oh the pain! A season of cold and strong wind has come and one of my arms has broken off.  It is lying on the ground. The cold water sooths my pain.

 

For many seasons of cold water and hot sun, I have stood here, alone, grass growing wild, flowers bloom to fade and bloom again in shades of reds, yellows, blues, pinks and purples, always beautiful.

 

Water is getting harder and harder to find in this time of hot sun. It seems longer than normal. I find I must allow the very tips of my fingers to fall off early to conserve water.  I will pull water back from even my fingers to survive.  I find it hard to reach my legs and toes further to find deep water. I must continue to try even if my fingers and arms suffer. I will do what I must.

 

CRACK! Could this be water coming? This sound sometimes comes before the water. Sometimes, though, it is just rumbling. The sun hides behind his blanket and the water usually comes. This time though, no water comes, just bright streaks across the sky.  CRACK! OUCH! Searing pain! Another arm has fallen, severed by the bright streaks. At the break, it is red hot. It hurts so badly.  Please let the water come to sooth me.

RUMBLE! Rumble. CRACK! Oh my, not again. No, I am not injured this time.  All remaining arms remain attached. Crack. I see this streak strike at where my brethren are. I hope they are all right. Over the past seasons, they have come much closer. I can almost make out the tips of their fingers. None have come to my field as of yet.  I would welcome them. I scan around in all directions until I spot a black cloud rising up amidst my brothers on my severed arm side. I watch, as the black cloud gets bigger. I hear sounds of crackling and moans coming from my brothers. I see flickers of the sun around the black smoke.  I have never seen the sun come down near this place, far in the distance, yes, but never here. The black cloud waifs in my direction and makes it hard to breath. Something else I have never had to worry about, until now.  My brothers all around are now visited by the sun, I hear them moan, creak and crack.  Please, let them be all right.  The visit of the sun is over, I think. My brothers are no longer there. They have died. Black, dead hulks are all that are left.  I stand alone. How many seasons will I be alone. At least the water came.

 

Season come and go. I have lost track of how many. Green has returned to my brother’s land. Small brothers have started their journey down to water and up to the sun.  Be careful little ones. Do not touch the sun. You will die.

 

More seasons of cold water and warm sun come and go. The little brothers have grown. Small animals have made their homes in my arms and body, I do not mind.

 

Seasons come and go.  I can see very far now. Mounds of dirt no longer block my view. I have many brothers of various types as far as I can see. I am at peace now. I have endured the worst to this point.  I have realized I will endure or die. All things die.  I have seen the small animals die and get killed by other small animals. I live on.  All things except sun, water, and dirt move much faster from start of life to end than I do.

 

More seasons come and go. I endure more visits from the sun, more cold water. I lose more arms but still I endure.  Any yet, I still stand alone.

 

There is black smoke in the distance, very small and not growing.  This is not a visit from the sun.  Day by day, the smoke moves closer. One day a new animal appears from within my brothers, cover. Many of them come. I hear sharp smacks and fierce rubbing sounds from within my brother’s cover.  They build small pits that contain small amounts of the sun. They hunt and kill smaller animals.  They have killed many of my brothers. Cut them, burned them, and pieced them back together to form some sort of non-living structure.  I hate them. Yet, I still stand. They turn the grass over and plant new plants, replacing my beautiful flowers with long grass that turns golden over time. Pretty but not like my flowers.

 

More of my brothers killed every season. More structures built. Man, as I have heard them called, is wasteful. Do they not know that if allowed to grow we, my brothers and I, could provide for them as we do other animals. Build from our broken arms and from our dead. Dead is dead, we do not care if they are used. Nevertheless, why kill us?

 

Seasons pass…

 

There was a time when I was the tallest thing around. Now tall buildings and busy streets surround me. Many men have moved into my field, which is no more. All of my brothers, whom I could see from my great height, are gone. Man has planted others of my kind around but it does not compensate for the slaughter they did in the past.  I have survived many seasons with man around. Now they surround me. They string light around me in the cold water season.  They water me when it is very hot and dry.  They have surrounded me with a little stone barrier, like that could stop my growth. They hold parties around me and enjoy my shade.

 

Through all of the seasons I have lived, I could have fared worse.

 

Yet…

 

I stand alone.

 

*Note: A plaque states that this tree has survived for over 300 years.