The Last Forest
A little draft I found from years ago...
Enjoy.
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Rain patters, catching the sun in a brilliant mozaic of glistering hues. Leaves rustle, dew running down its lush greenery. Birds chirp, wings hustling, the little bursts of song breaking the endless rush of water crashing down in rivers from the heavens. Insects crawl and huddle beneath stones left for eternity and inside the rotting damp wood of the trees.
The people gasp in amazement, eyes wide as they take in it all.
"So realistic!" They exclaim. "Such brilliant technology!" They shout, as water wets their hair, softer yet unpredictable, unlike their automatic intelligent bathing machines. The chirps of the birds reach them, filling their ears with their cries. "What is that awful sound?" A little boy bats at the humid atmosphere, whining and covering his ears. The others turn to him with a glare, for he had ruined their fun.
"Spoiled little brat," some of them mutter and grumble. The parents whip their heads to him with a strict hush and bone straight finger to their lips, but the guide turns to the boy with a gentle smile. "Those are the birds, child," he says. "Some may find their song irritating, but others irresistible." The boy uncovers his ears, nodding eagerly. They felt the dirt beneath their feet become less solid, and they watched as their expensive white boots sank into it, coating the ivory pearlescence in smudges of green and brown.
The people growl in disgust, stepping away from the goop. "We've had enough!" A man yells, waving his fist. One of his children, who was so obedient, always so obedient, bends down to examine the mud, but her father grabs her wrist and roughly yanks her back. She whimpers, says nothing.
The guide removes his hat, holding it ruefully to his professional guide vest. "I apologize, oh sir, but your time is not over. For you all purchased a two hour visit to The Realistic Atmospheric Happy Dome, yet it has only been an hour."
"Then we demand a refund!" His wife shouts. The boy, who had been so captivated by the bird's song, realized that he was not happy, as one should be happy in The Realistic Atmospheric Happy Dome. He watches as his mother and father, and all of the other mothers and fathers, waved their fists, shouting cruelties and insults to the guide, protecting their children from the water that was now coming in sheets. Makeup ran down all of their faces, ruining their professional and governmental uniforms even further, including the white powder on the boy's face, and the chemicals that rosied his cheeks and goldened his hair.
"I want to leave!" The boy felt himself screaming, stomping his feet and splashing more mud. His parents cried out as the dirt streaked their faces. But as he screamed, as he stomped and cried like a babe, he felt himself feeling and thinking the opposite, for this was the most wonderful experience. He was not wearing any powder or eye enlargement enhancers. His uniform was not pristine and unwrinkled. His shoes were not shiny and reflective. And as he came to these revelations, he came to a new one, one that lifted his heart and let light shine through his veins, but not the artificial light that hurt his eyes after a while and flickered a light blue, no, the one here that shone brightly and brilliantly through the thicket and droplets of water, the one that warmed his body and made his eyes sore.
For he was free.
He shrieked and charged forward, past his parents and into the rainy forest. But as soon as he passed the first knot in the ground from a massive tree, he flew forward, landing on his face. The mud was cold, and the rain continued to pound his back. But then, a beeping, slow, but soon consistent and rapid. An explosion, near but not close. Another, even closer. Another, only a few feet away, that rattled his heart. But he couldn't move, he just lay there pathetically.
Another explosion.
And pain.
And screaming.
And then the warmth of the sunlight.
And then the beautiful chirps of the birds.
And then quiet.
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