Paradise
By Neve S
Published 19 September 2024
Two bugs sit quietly on a eucalyptus tree.
They wait patiently, never saying a word.
As days go by, they watch their beautiful forest grow smaller and smaller.
They watch until only their charred tree stands on the ashy and shrivelled earth.
KER-CHOP. Machines obliterate the tree like dust to the wind. The tree falls and crumbles to pieces that float away in the wind like feathers, the bugs fly away into the smog.
There is nothing left of their home now. Nothing more to burn and destroy.
The bugs fly, and fly. Through smoke and through ash.
They fly until they can fly no more. Their wings were fumbling feebly, unable to keep up their miserable bodies.
They reached the end of the despairing wasteland, the end of the machine's reign. A rocky chasm that divided the good and the bad.
On the other side of the perilous chasm, a paradise of lush greenery and new promises lies ahead.
They fly towards paradise, the pull of the crystal water and cool breeze, pulls them in like a dog to its owner.
They flew to the water. Desperate to gulp up the sweet, blue water.
They knew that they had found a new home. This new home was safe.
They had cheated death and found a new world to live in.
A haven.