The Lost Hope

The Lost Hope

A short story by Sunny Iacono

The year is 2179, and humans' neglect and disregard for nature has come to the point where there is no hope for humanity or any life on earth for that matter. The skies used to be a vibrant blue but have now turned into a rusty brown, filled with intoxicating gasses and sharp pieces of silica dust that will slice your lungs until they fill up with blood. The once rich, and bright green grass has turned to dirt, and the very last bits of it left on this planet will have shriveled up and died by the time you have finished reading this sentence. And the blue oceans that were responsible for life itself, that humans could go to and play cheerfully for hours at a time, cooling themselves from the heat is now gone, and you will be lucky if you find a single grimy puddle. The humans have extra water stored in tanks, and live underground in bunkers like moles, hiding from the sunlight until they die. They took farm animals to breed and harvest, and others to use for an ecosystem while leaving the rest of us out here to die, from their mess.

While the world is burning to a pile of ashes and unstable nuclear power plants collapse, I am still obliged to care for my two owlets. We live in a run-down, forsaken red barn behind what used to be a house but was consumed by a sinkhole caused by fracking. We are eating out of a silo full of corn used by humans to feed the cattle that once lived here but are now dead, with nothing but a pile of bones left. Being one of the last animals on earth is depressing. Sometimes my children will ask me, “Mama, you tell us stories about how rivers flowed with water, and mice roamed the fields of flourishing flowers, but I do not see any flowers or mice. And why is no water to appear for large stretches of land?” And I tell them about how humans forgot about the planet they are gifted to live upon and instead put all their attention to new creations that did nothing but glorify themselves. And with their greed and bloodthirsty drive for more power, they built and consumed more resources than the earth could provide. They believed that new technology was more important than healthy soil and didn't realize that what they predicted to be many years away was actually right there in front of them, staring them in the eyes; his name was death. And there was no stopping him now.

Every day is a struggle to keep my family alive. We have to travel far to find water that won't poison us, in a small quagmire just a little north of a desolate crumbling city. It was once called New York, filled with people from all places and cultures, but is now just an uninhabitable cluster of overshadowing buildings. While at the swampy bay getting water, my children play contentedly on some floating logs while I sit there watching them. And in this moment of bliss, it was almost as if all the problems with the world no longer existed, and all of the pain from seeing friends die and homes get destroyed had nearly vanished. Looking at my children reminded me of the days when I was young and living with my own mother before humans poached her—nuzzling in her soft brown wings, covering me like a blanket. And her iceberg blue eyes that matched mine, that were soon to be dulled to a gray as she fell to the ground collected as a trophy. Later that day, when I arrived back at the barn with my children, I realized that some debris had been moved around, it was probably just the wind, but I couldn’t shake off an unpleasant feeling, so I searched everywhere while my children rested. While looking in an old animal stall, I heard the screeches of my children behind me. Darting around, I could see an ill brown dog that had very obviously not eaten in weeks, so thin you could see the ribs clearly through the skin. I only had two options. I could intervene and hope the dog went for me, giving my children time to escape or get myself out and let my children die. I sat there staring blankly for a second, realizing that if I die, my children will most likely die as well, for they are still adapting to survive independently.

I couldn’t move. I was frozen in place, shocked, and heartbroken. “It… it isn’t fair,” I stuttered, “it isn't fair!” The dog was far gone by now, and both my children were gone with it.

Time flew by as I perched in the barn. Life was lonelier now. Without my children, I felt cold and empty. “I could have saved them.” I say to myself, “I could have, but I didn’t.” My mind started becoming restless, I needed to leave the barn, and I knew I wouldn't be coming back. I started flying aimlessly in no particular direction with no plan in mind. I had lost hope.

“Mama! Mama!” I shouted from across the trees. “Yes dear? Are you ok?” I heard from the hole in the tree we call home. “Mama, I saw a little mouse by the stump near the clearing, and I tried to grab him, but he was too fast and slipped right through my talons,” I said with a hint of disappointment. “Oh sweety, that’s ok, it’s hard to catch mice. Sometimes they go faster than the thoughts in your head. But be careful out by yourself, there isn’t much forest left, and it isn’t safe in that direction.” She replied, comforting me with her wing. I looked up at her blue eyes, astonished. “Really!?” I said, ignoring the last part. I couldn’t quite understand what she had said. “Yes, dear, it takes some time to learn how to catch a mouse without letting it escape. It wasn’t until I was five full moons old when I caught my first mouse.” She assured me. “Oh! That means I only have-” but I was interrupted by a rustling in the bushes followed by some quiet muttering that sounded like “Come on, I heard them over this way.” My mother immediately hurried me over. “Quick, let’s go back to our home, there are humans over there.” Her voice was full of fear, so I did what I was told. But before I knew it, a human jumped out of the bush and yelled, “Gotcha!” Followed by a loud bang

I woke with a sharp pain in my side. Looking around, I noticed I had fallen, my stomach growled, and my throat felt as if it was on fire. I haven't drunk any water or eaten in days, and if I don’t find water soon, I will die. I start walking, not having enough strength to fly. Hours passed, I had started to see objects that weren’t there, hallucinating my children, but when I cried out, I got no response. Or I would see water, but when I bend down to drink, I get a mouthful of dirt. It has gotten to the point where my legs stung like a bee had pricked them, I collapsed. And right before my eyes closed, I saw something, not being able to see it clearly, but there it was. “Green,” I rasped.

“Man, do not pride yourself on your superiority to the animals, for they are without sin, while you, with all your greatness, you defile the earth wherever you appear and leave an ignoble trail behind you -- and that is true, alas, for almost every one of us!”

—Fyoder Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov