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Sitting under a tree of bones. One I planted. The roots reaching to the core of the Earth. Was this even Earth anymore? It wasn’t the one I remember. Not the one I grew up on. The one that provided many summers of childlike fun, winters of wonder. Springs of reform, autumns of relaxation. Did I ever grow up? Have a childhood? Was I always like this?
No one left in my life, in anyones. This hill with this tree being the last of everything. I will be next to go. Who will take me then? The Gods I have already reaped? The dreams in which I caused despair to thrive, causing hope to die and nightmares to run rampant. Killing those nightmares too when they no longer served a purpose. What purpose was that again? To heal? To save? Who did I save, who did I heal? Did I mean to heal this universe? One I so carelessly destroyed. One I loved so much as to snuff its source of light.
It’s not my fault I was made to outlive everything. I was only doing a job. Why make me the bad guy when you were your own downfall. Killing yourselves and justifying it by saying it's for the sake of society, of living. Killing yourselves and each other and saying it was God's plan. None of the Gods ever planned for this. They left you to your devices, to do what you pleased. I only watched in silence, acting when called upon.
Now the Earth you sought to help too late is a wasteland. Efforts made but nothing to show for it. Oceans now stained with blood and pollution, skies no longer blue, but gray with no clouds in sight. Not even specks of green for as far as the eye can see. An Earth I no longer recognize. Once blooming with life, now wounded mortally at such a young age. With prayers not nearly loud enough, may this planet start to heal from the affliction it’s most beloved caused.
In a fit of weariness, I stand. Ready to embark on a journey that I hope is my last. I hope. Wondering who is left to reap Death. Will I suffer forever in this place where I serve no purpose. Where I will be alone for all eternity.
Walking along the path I have laid out in my head, seeing nothing but pain. I have now walked ten months, only covering a small portion of this place that was once home. The journey goes slower when you are looking for something. I do not yet know what I am looking for, but when I find it I hope to make things right again. When you are left with only your thoughts, it gets tough to discern which ones are actually yours. Being haunted by the dead, the gone. The ones begging for another chance that I cannot grant them. The afterlives not being around anymore due to no one to run them proves to be louder than one can imagine. It was one of the kinder of the gone that told me to look for something. They could not tell me what, nor where, just that I’ll know when I find it. Why I listened to someone I do not know, I haven’t the faintest clue, but something about the urgency and fear that somehow turned to hope in their voice shook me to my core. That is why I look everywhere, everyday. Turn over every stone, open every door.
After another five years, I know I have found it. A way to end all suffering. My suffering. The deads suffering. Laying eyes on it filled me with a sense of relief and an unfamiliar sense of purpose. Now my only mission is to find out how to use it. The kind voice returned once again to tell me where I can find the instructions for this item, a crown. I have to journey three years back in the direction I came if their directions are correct, which I pray they are.
Walking through a landscape which I recognize is an easy thing, yet being bombarded by the same pain I felt when first walking this path is hard. The only thing keeping me from turning away is the knowing that there is nothing better for me on any other path. My destination only being about seven months away now, my hope grows everyday. Setting foot now off of the boat I found onto the country that holds the instructions. Setting off in the direction I was told, keeping myself from running and wasting energy that would get me there faster.
Two months now until I reach where I am headed. The voices have grown tired of pleading, now just keeping me company with the stories of their lives, their memories a comfort to them as well. Some stories I like more than others, some stories I despise. Wretched ghosts now no different than the pure. Both sides telling lies and truths, still trying to entertain after nothing but despair plagues their souls.
Walking up the stairs of the only building left standing in the area, a library. The doors taken off the hinges long ago to be used as firewood. Walking down the aisles, intact books scarce. As I reach the end of the last aisle, I see a table with a chair. One of the legs on the table is gone, but the one book sitting upon it defies gravity with how it sits there. I walk slowly towards the chair, sitting in it. The book has no title, no author. I open the book and start reading the instructions on how to use the power of the crown. I quickly read through the entire thing, only taking a day and a half to do so.
The kind voice appears one last time, telling me I have a choice to make. Use the crown to kill myself, or to rebuild the universe. A universe I could rule. My mind is swimming, the choices screaming at me. If I made a new universe, my new universe, it could be better, kinder. I could make it so technological advancements would cause no harm to any living thing. Things could only be made and used with the intention to help others. But would that truly help? Surely not forever, something would slip my mind, wars started, meaningless crimes committed. The one thing I’ve wanted since the start of my journey is right in front of me, and I’m considering the option that would only result in me standing right where I am now eventually. The only thing I can do is stop the cycle before it can begin. Stop myself before it’s too late.
I put on the crown, a tear rolling down my cheek. After the first one, more fall, sobs racking my body as they fill the silence. I didn’t know I could cry, why did now have to be the first time? I’m not scared to die, it’s what I’ve wanted. Is it the sorrow of leaving these voices behind, the stories they have told, the memories they have shared? Was it fear of the unknown? I admit I do not know what lies for me after death. I am not human nor animal, so their afterlives that are no longer would never have accepted me. Where did the others like me go when they died? I never heard their voices. Was eternal sleep waiting for me? I shall soon find out.
All I have to do is think it into existence, and it will happen. So I do.