Put your story text here...The bright Saturday sun has long disappeared. The warm soft soil has turned to a cold solid surface. The wind begins to pick up speed; The trees thrash violently. The streets are lifeless. The atmosphere is even more cold and decrepit over the city dump. The street lights have flickered off and this area is cast into darkness.
A single garbage truck maneuvers through the large mountains of rotting piled trash. Each sticky decomposing mound obscures the driver's vision. Eventually, he decides he has gone far enough and drops his cargo at the base of a coal colored mound of waste. It is topped with mold covered baby diapers, broken computers, and a large black leather couch with a large hole in the centre cushion. When all the garbage has been ejected by its fly infested chariot the driver speeds off towards the exit. The pile of refuse that is dropped off is typical : used tissues, TV dinner trays, rust covered razors and broken light bulbs. However, on top of the pile of everyday rubbish lies a small, clear, rectangular, shaped water bottle. It is a solitary glistening speck in an otherwise murky ocean. The thin plastic label on the bottle is torn but still retains its spectacular colors. Due to the harsh wind, the water bottle begins to toss from side to side. The wind thrusts it in between a broken feather duster and a mold covered milk carton. The wind has died down and once again the dump is cast into deafening silence. Suddenly a single voice breaks the eerie calm. This voice is a mere whisper amid the mile high mountains of trash.
"Where am I? Ahhh! My top is killing me! Why does everything smell so bad?" cries out the diminutive water bottle as he rubs his blue top. The little water bottle begins to move. He is no longer victim to the will of the wind and is standing on his own two feet of his own free will. As the bottle continues to rub his top, he moves towards a small, empty, chocolate milk carton and takes a seat.
"This does not seem right at all. All the other bottles told me the recycling plant would be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, but this place is disgusting. My feet are soaked in some kind of sticky, yellow ooze and everything smells bad. This is not right at all."
The small water bottle places his rectangular face in his small hands and begins to sob quietly. Unbeknownst to him, a figure rises from the broken screen of an old computer. As the bottle continues to sob, the figure hobbles closer.
"I cannot wait four-hundred and fifty years to decompose in this place!" says the bottle. "It is way too smelly and I am all alone. The recycling plant is supposed to have glistening black and white marble floors, not sticky ooze! What am I going to do now? My clothes are ripped and I have no idea where I am!" He gently rests his head back in his hands.
Suddenly, the tiny bottle propelled forward by a sudden stab to his back. The bottle tumbles from his seat and rolls down the side of the sticky mound towards the hard ground with a soft tap. At a first glance, there is no reason or hint as to why he fell from the mountain of waste. Rubbing his head for the second time, he rises from his rectangular back to his feet.
"Hello there stranger!" says a mysterious voice from behind the water bottle. The bottle jumps up and away from the from the voice. However, he still sees nothing. While scratching his top he says, "I must be going bonkers."
"You aren't crazy silly! Look Down." The mysterious voice was full of amusement.
"What?" said the little water bottle in confusion.
"Look down," says the mysterious voice for a second time.
When the water bottle looks down, all he sees is a small black and rusty can. It looks like it can only hold a child sized fruit cocktail. The right leg of the little tin can is mangled and short. The top of the can has many jagged edges and on the right side under one tiny arm was an old pizza crust crutch. The can's label is extremely shredded but the word 'Peaches' can be made out. The tin can is the size of a balled up tissue. In his tiny, high pitched voice and with a slight lisp the small tin can begins to speak again.
"Hi! I'm Tim the tiny tin can. You can call me Tim! Everyone does. All I ask is that you don't call me Peaches. Sorry about giving you a shove back there. I only meant to give you a tap. I am a little wobbly on my crutch sometimes." the little can flashed a crocked smile.
"Oh. Hello there, Tim. My name is Phillip Artesian" says the water bottle. "Don't worry about scaring me back there I'm just a little upset is all."
"Why are you upset Phillip?"
" I don't know where I am and if I don't get to - "
"Oh, that's an easy one! You're in the city dump, my new best friend, not the recycling centre," says Tim exposing his four small metal teeth. " We should get out of here. The sun's coming out and you definitely don't wanna be out when the Garbage gulls come 'round."
"Okay, but where will we go?"
"I've lived here a long time buddy and I know my way around really well. We can go to my house. Well it is not really a house. It is more of a cave. Well, it is made up of an old television and some -"
"Let's just get out of here Tim."
With that Phillip the Fiji water bottle linked one of his little arms with Tim's and they set off to Tim's home and the beginning of an epic adventure. As well as the beginning of an amazing friendship. However, over one of the garbage piles a pair of beady eyes, full of disdain, watched the duo and silently began to pursue.
YOU ARE READING
A World Renewed
HumorA plucky little Fiji water bottle named Phillip is wrongly cast into the garbage instead of the recycling bin and must try and find his way to a recycling plant. Fortunately for him he meets up with a quirky little tin can named Tim and an epic adve...
