• The skeleton of a tree stood there, watching. The dirt on the deserted road lay there, waiting. The man with the brown hat sat there, seeing. As the evening sun sank lower, the red glow darkened to black. Despair loomed over the world in its cold all-encompassing grip. But finally the moon awoke from its dormant state to save the world from darkness with its yellow reflected light. An eerily peaceful night it was, that could be so easily disturbed. Yet nothing moved to destroy that peace, that silence as it enveloped the world. All creation stood, lay, and sat there in solitude as they watched, waited and saw the destruction of life. If one listened closely, one would hear the soft tick, tick, tick as the hands of the clock count down to its end. As the sixth and twelfth hour struck twice in the morning, twice in the night, the world would change within a minute. Like an ocean wave, a radioactive wind would be expelled to travel further and further away disappearing to nothing. Far away, the progressive wind dissipates, leaving the tree slanted slightly, displaced dirt, a man with a balding forehead and beside him an upside down brown hat moving further and further away.

    ***


    In their hearts, a soft beat sounded through. In their minds, they knew time was drawing nigh. But alas, one lonely soul continued on his mission; looking for a green leaf amidst the black and white painting. His wish left unanswered, left to be forgotten: soon to be destroyed with the rest of the world. He passed one place to another – a vagabond: the only one of his kind. As he left the graveyard of buildings, empty eyes stared as their own delicate wish lay shattered like glass. There was no turning back: what lay behind was already dead. A strong boom interrupted the silence, followed by a wave of dust and wind. The vagabond paused, his coarse hair prickling his face as he looked forward with squinted eyes through the dust toward the flat brown earth. Like a ghost walking in purgatory, he ventured down the barren road; his shadowy companion that was both the vagabond yet not the vagabond following every step.

    A gentle breeze from the heavens lifted dust that shone through the dull light. The vagabond strode past remnants of the once wonderful world as the creaking of rusted swings rang through the thick air. As he walked on, he could not help but wish and wonder and question why. He halted to a stop, looking back on the once bright blue structure that would have been loved and treasured. He remembered the true sensation of joy, the innocence, the carefree children who lived in a worriless world. He remembered the cool air caressing his face as he swung up and down, back and forward: the constant motion drawing out the beats of time. But all was not as it was as man grew and learnt: as man took control, ruling in ignorance. If only he had known. If only he saw the pendulum of the world swinging back and forth that will always stop. And now nothing lived and breathed without despair and all but one stood alone waiting for the end. The vagabond turned away: turning toward what must be found before the last clock ticks to inexistence – a mission to save the world.

    The vagabond traced the horizon, searching. He walked faster, spotting a silhouette in the waking sky. The dirt traced his footsteps as he strode past. A lone tree stood there, holding seven precious green leaves. He reached out to feel the presence of a fellow being. His hand reached toward the treasure, only to stop so close enough to feel the life it radiated. But he must not touch the glassy surface of green or the smooth bark as he knew man’s touch destroys all things. So the vagabond stepped away to embrace the other being, standing straight and tall, blessed with the green of life. He turned away, head bowed; his gaze crept from the disturbed dirt near his feet and to an unusual brown hat. He paused and thought; then collected the abandoned hat, rescuing it from solitude. Now with a brown hat on his head, he faced onward: down the long dirt road with a mission to complete. The vagabond moved forward, in search of life, leaving behind a trail of footsteps.

    The vagabond looked up from the dusty road not long after. He heard a murmur: a strange hum that cut the silence behind him. And there it stood in front of him – tall buildings, although dull and still a distance away, was filled with other beings: companions. They stood there, smiling faces pointed toward the morning sky. He walked faster, his heart beating faster with joy. Finally, he thought, his mission will be accomplished: his wish fulfilled. As the vagabond got closer, he halted in his step and saw. Frozen in his fear, he watched as a large metal bird flew closer and closer. The clock ticking down: three, two, one… Faces watched the explosion with anticipation. The vagabond stood in horror. He watched as the metal bird burst that created a shockwave of searing heat, deafening noise and blinding light that burnt into his eyes. The vagabond now lay, bruised and bleeding beside the tree that no longer had seven leaves of life. The metal bird flattened everything around it and sent those within the buildings to their maker: to dust.

    ***


    As the last metal birds found their perch, the world disintegrated. But still, the skeleton of a tree stood there, watching. The dirt on the deserted road lay there, waiting. The man with the brown hat sat there, understanding. He remained there still and with the wind, his balding forehead was exposed. He, who once was the vagabond, became a man like the others: like those whose faces shone with anticipation. His body bleeding and scalded remained exposed. His swollen eyes opened slightly but he continued to stare into darkness despite the glaring sun above him. No matter how hard he tried, he was caught and pulled into nothingness: his wish and being shattered like glass. The man with a balding forehead sat there in solitude, waiting for his inevitable end so that he too may return to dust.