I wake up again to being on the same road walking home, but it's different. The trees are bare with some leaves to cover their decaying bodies, the flowers are losing their beautiful petals to the season. The wind that blows through has a different feel to it, crisp and slightly cold as it moves to tangle my hair. There is no rain this time as we were experiencing another drought but then the flowers call me once again from the same spot which feels weird that I stand here again.
I bend down to talk to them, they mention that they only have limited life and they need to warn me of the dangers to come. The squirrels will be sleeping soon, they say, so if you see them remember they are fake so do not follow them and do not feed them. The soil tells story's of past times where the earth will be so cold that you will think it has died, but do not be afraid unless you find a flower with all of its petals and it looks brand new. The birds chirp as if they say we will be flying soon, so if you hear us call it is not us, run far and run fast. The flower with the beautiful roots is now decaying and is telling me that soon everything will end, there is no use trying to escape...
"What?" I ask
instead of answering me, she collapses, like the sun going to bed or a tree falling over in a empty forest.
Silent
I start to hate silence, it sickens me, mocks me, it coils it's little fingers around my brain and squeezes to make me go insane I shake it off. Then i walk down to the pine trees, the only tree that doesn't lose its leaves during this season. Yet, they are entirely still and are not talking anymore, did I say something to upset them? Why would they not talk to me?
They are bitter that their stupid little bird friends have to leave them the oak tree says I would too if I were the birds, while we shiver and quake the pine brag that they are warm since they still have their leaves but the blanket of snow sticks to them better. Snow?
"What the hell is that?" I ask
What?
I blink, then I am in the street again just as last time, yet it feels different. There is no screaming for me, no screeching of wheels or the bang of metal on the road. Just,
Silence
I continue walking home when I fall to my knees, grasping my stomach in pain, I fall. Curled on the road I look at my hand to see this brown, sticky substance oozing out of me. The trees this time are the only ones yelling for me
"You're a pine?"
"I knew I should have never trusted you"
"You're corrupt, and I just knew it"
I'm human? right?
