Root of Veins

A Story by Kendralokai

The end of humans are coming in a way no one has expected. Not in fire, not in ice, but in the very land we destroyed. Nature is reconquering earth, and is taking down anything that gets in it's way.

Quiet and hesitant, I walk up to the dull oak podium. Looking out at the massive crowd, my fears only heighten. In the very front of the crowd, I can see the elders, nodding their heads at me in encouragement. I take a deep, long breath, and begin.

“Ladies and gentlemen. The world is almost enveloped in green. The end is coming in a way we’ve never expected. Not in fire, with flames replacing the oxygen in our throats. Not in ice, with our blood becoming as solid as our bones. But in the creases of the leaves attacking the lively oaks. In the monster green vines wrapping our home in a cage. In the toxic spit of the flowers that were once my grandmother’s favorite. Many people in this world try to stay bright, accepting this conclusion as a gift, surrounded by roses. But the roses we all want to see are covered in thorns. They say this finale is better than a flame, turning our bodies to ash. They say this end is better than the cold air that would paralyze our bones. They say that one day, we might be the very branches that climb the skies. Despite their uplifting words, I can see the truth in their faces. Their skin grey, and their eyes sunk. Acceptance is what will kill them, their breath and blood becoming a beautiful forest green. But I will not accept. I will fight this tragedy until our skies are blue once again. So join me in the fight. We may not be able to stop nature from conquering earth, but we can stop nature from conquering ourselves.”

With bravery in my heart, I scan the crowd. I see excitement. People standing tall and chanting each syllable of their praise with a strong fist in the air. My speech is seeming to be effective, and I can only hope it will convince at least one of the acceptors of their mistakes. As I smile at the swarm of people in triumph, a patch of green at the back of the crowd catches my eye. Acceptors. Of course they couldn’t go one day without trying to shove their suicidal thoughts down everyone’s throats. I nervously step down from the podium as the Acceptor’s screams grow louder. I look to the elders for help, but the ground where they once stood is empty. Nervously pinching the skin above my knuckles, I turn my back to the crowd.

When I was young, the elders tried to explain to me the Acceptor’s motives. Even to this day, I don’t understand. They’d tell me how these green-thumbed people would kill anything that harmed Mother Nature. And with every word the elders spoke, I grew more and more confused, and more and more angry. Every night, I lay in my bed and try to see from my enemy’s perspective. I just don’t understand. How can you accept that you’re going to die? How does one decide that the life of the daises and the oak trees are of more worth than their own lives? To me, the Acceptors decisions are equivalent to a noose and dangling feet.

As my breathing increases, I finally have the courage to look back at the crowd. The Acceptors, dressed head to toe in forest colors, have made their way to the middle of the crowd. By now, I can’t distinguish which screams belong to the acceptors and which belong to the frightened people. I look away in agony. This is not my role. I will not stand still and watch my people perish while the trees stand still and watch their people destroy. I was created to accomplish. With these thoughts cemented in my head, I throw the sound grenade the elders gave me “to use at the right time” into the air. An ear piercing ring quiets the crowd. To my surprise, the silence lengthens, and I accept the noiseless gift before it fades away. I take a deep, long breath and begin.

“Listen now, and listen well. Acceptors, I’m going to tell you that everything you believe is wrong. I’m going to force you out of our land. But, I will ask a favor of you. Look around. Do you see what I see? Hands, noses, necks and spines. Now, look at yourself. What do you see? Flesh. While you were all busy fighting your wars did you forget that we share a beating heart and coursing veins? While you were busy protecting the soil did you lose your humanity? Every night, my nightmares wake me up at precisely 4:12 AM. Although these deathly dreams kill me in my sleep, I depend on them. These nightmares are my alarm clock, in some twisted way. Every night at 4:12 AM, I rise from the fortress of my demons and stretch out my limbs. Once I am conscious, I look out my window and see the growing branches. They’re getting closer, and I know one day, we will be forced to relocate. You see, in my dream, I see the beauty of the branches. I see the tiny patterns engraved in the wood and the tiny bugs residing around them. In my nightmares, I see the beauty, and that terrifies me. When I’m awake, I look out my window and look for the tiny patterns. I look for the beauty. Acceptors, you have eyes but can you see? Everything that has ever existed has multiple perspectives, and I plead with you, look for the ones outside of your own.”

On my way back to the city, I throw a quick glance over my left shoulder. I can barely make out an Acceptor’s face flash of confusion, and I silently thank the universe for giving me the gift of persuasion. And although the Acceptors fled the quarters, although every speech I have delivered has been executed perfectly, I have a feeling deep inside me the worst has yet to come.