Polluted

Prolugue

"Honey, are you recording?"

"Yes, of course I am dear."

"Mum, why is the camera on the table? Its pointing at us!"

"Tell us what you were saying before darling, about the trees."

"Oh! I love them, they're pretty."

"Yes, and the buildings? The factories like daddy works at?"

"Stop baby-talking me! I'm eight."

"Right, your fathers sorry dear. Tell us what you think of the factories."

"They're ugly. They make this gross looking smoke rise up into a cloud out of their chimneys, it smells terrible & makes me choke. They're disgusting."

The young girl on the screen grinned, proud of herself for the use of such a big word at the age of eight. Her parents merely glanced at each other, father stern, mother concerned,

"Sweetheart, factories are good for the world. They produce things like computers & televisions." Said her father. The little girl screwed up her nose, her golden curls bouncing as she shook her head,

"No they aren't. The smoke will kill everything, it makes my chest hurt." She whined, frowning at her parents. Her mother sighed, wrinkles appearing on her forehead from years of exasperation,

"I know honey, but we need to live with them. Otherwise we wouldn't have a lot of the food we have today."

"Ew! My food comes from those factories? I'm never eating again!" Her mother laughed, blue eyes sparkling with amusement while her father looked upon them with clear distaste,

"Alright, how about we make a garden? Then you won't be eating factory food." The little girl nodded excitedly, her green eyes almost as wide as the grin on her pale face.

The video ended.

A new one started.

"Day one of my garden documentary! Did I say it right mummy?"

"Yes, now Mary pay attention."

"Okay!"

"We first dig a little hole, like this." She poked one gloved finger into the ground, then dropped a single seed out of a packet labelled 'Carrots' into the hole, "Then we put the seed in, cover it with earth, add a little fertilizer & water it. Got all that?"

"My brain hurts." The mother laughed, pulling young Mary in for a hug.

The video ended.

"Playback error. Would you like me to start from the closest readable file?"

"Yes, thank you Ana."

"File playing."

"So.. um.. day 1784 of my garden documentary. Heh.. where to begin? I haven't done one of these in 3 years, its all scheduled in my calendar, so i know where I'm up to, I've just been too busy to set up the camera. Dad died last year in a factory accident. Mum is past it, so am I. There was a divorce scheduled for the Thursday that week anyway. He hated the fact we had a garden. He much preferred the loud, bustling noise of the city than the peaceful silence of the countryside. He loved people, whereas I myself find them detestable. All the veggies have been picked, I mean its almost December & with all my exams recently I haven't had time for the garden, almost everything would die if I planted it now. The only thing I can trust to stay standing is my baby over here-" The camera was lowered, showing blue runners as Mary trotted over the rough terrain of her parents' small plot of land towards something, she raised it again to capture the breathtaking footage of a beautiful young tree, barely two meters tall yet still looking strong enough to stand it's ground during a hurricane. Surrounded by two different types of flowers, the pale barked Aspen stood out against the dark wooden fence it had outgrown. She flipped the camera to face her & moved to stand beside the sapling,

"Selfie!" She cried, the grin on her face hadn't changed since she was younger, it was still plastered in the same place on her pale skinned face. The tree dwarfed her, & although she laughed, there was no one around to cause such an outburst. After a moment, her laughter died down, replaced by a regretful smile,

"No one understands. They don't understand the trees like I do. People think they need company to be happy, but nature is a sort of company in itself. They don't understand that the leaves & wind & rain will speak to you louder than any person could, if only you would listen."

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A/N : Okay so imma leave this here, I got the idea for this story while driving through the city two days ago & decided to publish it. Aster, my main character in the coming chapters, is meant to reflect my own thoughts. Although I haven't the slightest ability to change things in the world, I'm hoping that maybe some people will read this book, & that maybe those people will think to themselves, "huh, maybe she's right. maybe i do just need to listen."