A Tale of A Lonely Tree- Hayden Budofsky

          Five hundred years I've resided here. Five hundred years of tremendous change. Five hundred years of existence that has flown by almost too fast. Five hundred years that I am largely grateful for. Life after The Great Extinction hasn't been too bad for me so far. The weather isn't horrible from up here, the scenery could be worse, and most important of all, I'm still alive and going strong. I'd like to consider myself lucky, but yet again, it didn't have to be me. I could have easily withered away by now or succumbed to starvation like the rest.
          But yet, here I stand, and here I've stood for those five hundred mostly wonderful years. And to be honest, it's not the worst. At least THEY are gone. They who cut down so many of my brethren, they who contaminated my glorious skies, and they who have rendered me a biological outcast in a barren sea of death. Alas, if there was one thing I'm thankful for, it's that every last one of those self-obsessed wretched creatures is dead. The best part is, is that they were the perpetrators of their own demise. It's unfortunate too because I know for a fact that many of them actually cared. Many of them knew that they were subjecting themselves to certain death and that something had to be done. Yet their power-hungry, autocratic desires always overshadowed their minuscule compassion for their own home. They had seized power until they had no more power to seize. With no more land to plunder, no more plant life to mutilate, no more beasts to enslave, they vanished, leaving a disfigured landscape in their wake.       
          It's quite poetic, isn't it? Even after being alone for a while, I still find it crazy how a single species could turn their only home into a treacherous wasteland. In a place where all life is gone, it's almost inconceivable that I'm still here. Yet, here I am.
          Five hundred years ago, I sprouted from the soil surrounded by many of my brethren. We were known as the Aleppo Pines, a species of pine that were native to Mediterranian climates. I was lucky enough to sprout up on top of a mountain. But not just any mountain, ours was known as Triglav. It was "the mightiest mountain east of the Adriatic" many of my brothers and sisters used to say. Growing up on the west side of this behemoth, I had a perfect view of the idyllic Croatian countryside. Most of the days when I was younger were spent watching over the calm, swaying grasslands and the light blue-tinted Adriatic Sea. At night, the coast was dotted with this strange light that I found very soothing. I always saw myself as lucky that I had such a view.
          Oh yes, and there were always the humans, who I adored throughout my younger years. They didn't come up with my mountain often, but when they did, they always treated us with the utmost respect and civility. I remember one year, a half a century had gone by and I had grown quite lanky, towering over my brothers and sisters. One particularly gorgeous July day, a group of humans had decided to climb up the east side Triglav when they spotted me, who was relatively imposing by then. I remember one of these beings trudging up to my base, staring up the whole time in complete awe. After a while, the being pulled out a sign of some sort and hammered it into the ground. It had two simple words on it, Povreda Sânsi, the "Defier Of All Odds." That was my name now. I still hold on to it to this day, as a reminder of them. 
           From then on, many humans came to see me. I was a sort of attraction to those who marveled at my magnificent height. And still, they treated my species as if we were Gods, not daring to harm us in any way, shape, or form. Humans and I had a special bond, which to me, could never be broken. But then, things started to change.
           It started with the thing I held most dear to me - the view. Four centuries had passed and I had grown quite old, yet I still enjoyed all that I loved when I was younger. One particular evening, the sun was in the process of diving deep under the sea, sending a range of brilliant colors in each and every direction. This was the greatest part of being on the mountain; the scale of every sunset was truly spectacular. That's when I noticed these oddly shaped clouds that were rising up from the grasslands. I had never observed such a phenomenon in all my life. It seemed to be coming from these massive structures that were lined up on the horizon; like an army advancing on its enemy. These structures, which I later learned were called factories, seemed to be releasing these odd shapes, which darkened the skies and cast a shadow over the land before me. The once beautiful sunset was now blackened so only a minimal amount of color could shine through. The Adriatic Sea turned a sickly green and started to thrash around wildly, leering its ugly head against the coastline. I was utterly distraught. But it only got worse from there.
          The noise had started soon after. The clanking of metal and the recognizable shouts of the humans signified the arrival of The Machines. These massive pieces of hardware uplifted the earth and tore through the once beautiful grasslands, rendering it the same color as the sky. The once picturesque valley had taken on a dull gray color, one that saddened me to the very core. At the time, humans also stopped traveling up the mountain, and I saw them less and less. The only way I knew they were still there was by their machines that ran day and night. Their sounds echoed throughout the valley and pierced through the forest, shaking me to my very roots.
          I felt completely betrayed. The humans had done this. I had once adored their presence, yet now, with my tranquil Croatian countryside and beautiful skies ruined for good, I started to despise them. Many of my brothers and sisters who once loved the humans as well, agreed with me. I knew something had to be done, but what could I do? I was just a tree. And a tree I would be until the day I died. Nothing could be done unless the humans realized how terrible their destruction was. Yet, this day never came. The machines continued to ravage the landscape, the factories continued to poison the sea and skies, and the humans continued to eliminate all that stood in their way.
          Then, they arrived at my forest. The young ones fell within the first month, an easy target for their massive machines. Then, one by one, many of my longstanding neighbors fell, crashing to the ground with a sickening thump. All I could do was watch as everything I had ever known collapsed before me. As the tallest of all the trees, I was spared, yet even the strongest and most imposing of my brethren succumbed to death by the time they were done.
          Then one day, something changed. The machines stopped their hideous rumbling, the smoke from the factories stopped rising from the horizon, and the humans were nowhere in sight. Everything was quiet. All I could observe for miles was a desert of gray, no living thing could be seen. Not a single hint of color was in sight, not even the sky, which was no longer blue. The Adriatic, from what I could see, wasn't there anymore either. It was just me and the mountain, who watched with a sorrowful gaze over his deserted land, reminiscing of better days. Everything about this place, which I knew too well, was alien to me. This first real glimpse of my surroundings shook me to the very core and still remains in the back of my mind to this day.
          For years after the disappearance of the humans, I always wondered where they went and why they stopped what they were doing. Did they ever eventually realize that what they were doing was harmful? Did they choose to move to a faraway planet and plunder that one as well? Or did they die with their planet, a fate in which I had predicted many times before? In my later years, when I became older and wiser, I realized that it must've been the latter. That if the earth were to die, they would eventually die off as well. 
          So here I stand. I, the "Defier of All Odds."A century later and I'm still here, watching, waiting for life to start again. Although, it's quite lonely up here. It's pretty clear that this seclusion has taken a toll on me too. I can no longer grow leaves like I used to, my branches swerve around in every which way, and I've started to slant sideways at the most awkward of angles. Even though I may not look too good on the outside, what keeps me going is hope. Hope for the future. Hope that the next ruling race, whenever that may be, will not leave this planet the way the humans did so long ago. I've come to the understanding that I won't live much longer, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I now comprehend something that the humans never did. That this planet; this beautiful "earth" cannot and shall not be taken for granted, ever again.

 
 








Side Note: I'm sorry this story is so long, but I'm sure you will still enjoy it