Earth was an infant. Her baby hills rallied on for days with intermissions of soft valleys vast of the deepest jades, flowered by the magic of prisms. Lakes dotted the land like glistening puddles, waves rebelling against the sand surrounding. The sky mimicked the blues below it and kissed at the horizon. Plants in the shape of life would gather in secret, the wind whispering amongst. The youth of life blossomed fervently.


And a child would own it all. He could be young and full of spirit but his eyes would tell stories of decades long past. The cub’s mane would seem foolish and scruffy but the deep intensity emphasized how mangled he really was. Our child was civil as one could be from never experiencing another of the sort. Simply, he was human.


His only companion was the beauty always relayed on him day after day. That magnificent sphere of warmth and friendship glittered upon his cheek every minute of his being. From the moment he could remember, he had followed his companion’s lead. The growth would too if it could spurt legs. The hills lay under each of our child’s footsteps, serving his need. It was worth this child’s life, this company. Foot after relentless foot pursued the sphere every spare second not spent surviving. Each day when this child could no longer lift a muscle in his body, his eyes surrendered with the will-powered sphere observing intently. The child always found his strength again with his only friend watching closely. The routine he had created from his beloved Earth up was the only thing he had ever known, the only parcel he could share with his friend.


Our child was satisfied as the bees pollinating the forest amongst him. His companion peeked through the tree tops, reassuring its position. The cool growth massaged the soles of his bare feet, exhausted but determined to keep up. The bottoms had grown rough as the tree bark inspiring up from the refreshing dirt and his ankles, thick and strong. The forest was a temptress, fresh and kelly, mysterious and inviting. With the child’s companion on looking the scene, he surrendered to the rest he knew he deserved. The sleep he knew his loyal companion would wait for.


And the child dreamed. He dreamed of caressing his friend with the utmost tenderness a child could possess. The contact would ooze with sparks of unquestionable devotion. He would thank his friend for being so patient and tolerant of his humanness and apologize for lacking the majestic passion and love his companion provided. He wished he could prove worthy of the most beautiful thing he had ever known. And he vowed to continue his desperate endeavor until he fell off the brim of the Earth to embrace his only love. Then he awoke.


His droopy bowls of hazel flickered open in the middle of a war.


His companion, his friend, his lover was galloping away and stealing the day time with it. The horizon puked oranges, pinks, and the most horrifying purple. The air had thinned and tinged the cheeks of our child. He no longer wanted anything to do with the treacherous forest who manipulated him. As his feet slapped the unforgiving ground, the trees whisked this way and that, their branches attempting to cage the child in. He had become aware of his heart for the first time in this moment for it seemed as if his friend had stolen it along with the bright sky he had lived under his whole life. Out of the forest, his legs pushed and pursued, pursued and pushed, but the child was no match for his companion. As he sprinted through marsh and valley and endless hill, stale water slaved down his broken face. The drops of his soul couldn’t stop him though. Nothing could. Not even the vibrant paints in the sky playing tricks on his eyes could convince him of defeat as his friend sped further and further away.

Breath drew away much effort from his chest because running and choking on your first tears of a lifetime tend to take a toll on the body. But our child wasn’t worried about his overworked body. The only thing he had ever known had escaped from his clutches and he could not help but to scream into the night. The screams echoed for what seemed like hours and when his voice grew hoarse, they turned into helpless whimpers. Our child had lost purpose, the love of his life. Hopelessness slipped into the remains of his heart as he tried to find reason for this abandonment. Why hadn’t he been good enough? Could he have been more loyal, more passionate? As the insecurities aided reality to settle in, life left his weak, still-pursuing body absent of the warmth and love of life he had always known.