When Came the Dark

Monday may have dawned, but no one would have known. The sky was oh so dark.

One hundred days dark. Darker than dark had ever been. No end was expected. Dark would be all we would ever see.

At the start we had hope that fog was the cause. Perhaps smog? Pollutants, maybe? Then the thoughts turned to large sand storms, ones that grew past the rate of any ever seen before. Large enough to swallow the sun's glow, no matter no one knew from whence the source. That myth worked well; what came could one day go away, surely?

One day turned to two, then ten, then one hundred, then no one remembered any glow above at all. Monday was just another dark day among many.

Flowers and vegetables grew rubbery and lank, dry on the ground. We turned to meat. Cows, oxen, goats, sheep. Baked or parched, dehydrated or paste. We all turned keto, craved the blast of the B12 and B6: a jolt to the system that was much needed.

We ran, grunted through barbells held aloft as we worked through the meat sweats and longed for work among the garden plants. As we swam our thoughts turned to the food among the water plants and seaweed.

Stretched taut, long cords of looped green fronds became the staple, they gave us salted goodness and cradled the sea creatures that, plated on the table, gave our palates a new taste every now and then.

The crustaceans! The oysters, mussels, clams, and the larger catches that feed whole towns for days: even whales and seals were caught and eaten. We had butter, then; and the taste was of the seas and remembered sandy beaches from Summers past. Our hunger was sated, and although we stayed absent of yellow and blue sky cheer, we began to rally.

We could endure, hold out for change, carry on through to the break of the sun came back. Days stretched, and as we thought about what came next, we almost overlooked the death of the green, of the trees.

Sans Color, We're Lost Forever

Taste of the salt of the sea on our tongues, we spoke of the surety of trees. Oxygen, of course, but also color, memory, and the way they can gather us together and make all connect to each other. Long past the growth of crops, trees were needed and had a place of value to all.

The parch and frazzle of the dark and dank took a toll on the trees. Branches, once strong and true, now warped an unhealthy stretches, searched for the sun. The bark wept golden tears, sap-tears leaked across the bark and settled onto the cracked earth.

Roots sought unsuccessfully to connect underground, tender and desperate for reassurance from each other. They were us. We were them. To effect that relatedness between them meant we could do the same one day. We could move forward and reconnect, one to another.

Though we no longer saw the color change of the seasons due to the pall that befell us, the leaves must carry on. They would be the symbol of our hope.

And so Project Green began.

"Nowhere Near as Easy as Had Been Suggested"

Ruth and Ben sat dejected at the base of the tree that had been tagged for them. 'Work together as a team and celebrate as one!' was the slogan seen everywhere from walls to sweaters, cars to mugs.

'Only', thought Ruth to herself, 'should there be any successes they were too small to be observed. Leaves stayed buds on the pecan tree, flowers were nowhere to be seen, and the bark had a clear powdery feel that surely wasn't normal.' Out loud she spoke only 'Come on, Ben! Your turn to gather the mulch.'

Ben, a normal teen that wanted only to decode the latest holo-puzzle from the web, groaned softly but turned to scoop the decay awkwardly together. "Do you have the bag ready? A moment of help here, please, Ruth?"

Together they pushed the leaves and fractured branches over to the terra bag to transport them to the shredder. From there they'd become a mulch perfect for a healthy base any tree would esteem. At least, that's the concept, but as fact: not so much.

Whatever the TreeSquad teens attempted, none generated growth. The same was true everywhere. Trees stubbornly moved forward the tumble toward death.

They sweated, stumbled, fretted, exhausted, yet went on hour after hour. Now and then Ruth mumbled under her breath "Nowhere near as easy as had been suggested!" Ben would nod, weakly, but never meet her eyes. He refused to parrot her sad song. There was too much to do. Many trees to save.

After All That

Ms. Carol pushed the control button and the screen went blank as the pale electro-glo grew, dazzled students sat up and looked at her as though newly awakened.

As teacher, Ms. Carol dreaded what came next. One query after another as they attempted to understand all that she had shared. To learn of all that had come before, see the green and growth of the planet, then return home through the gloom; how she hated the chapter on The Dark and Project Green.

"We show them heroes one moment, then take them back the next," she mused to herself as she watched them recover and gather books and backpacks. " What good does all of that back and forth talk do for them? We are never gonna go back there, back to the Other Days. They're gone."

She stood tall and shook herself mentally before she gave out the homework.

"Class! Class, come to order, please. We aren't through." The students muttered and sat once more.

"The TreeSquads were just part of what we attempted to do to save the trees. We all fought bravely to keep color here on Earth, but we had to stop and do what was new. Who can tell me what that was?"

Hands rose slowly, and Carol called on Jan. "Yes, Jan? Do you know?"

"Um... Ms. Carol? We had to, um, we had to learn how to grown food except, um no sun, and to... um, to keep stuff warm and wet and not too hot? So we used the truck and planes and stuff and added huge pots and beds and hauled water and stuff? Then planted there? Um? Okay?" Jan fumbled, blushed, then sat down.

"That's correct, Jan. We used the robots, motors, planes, and the other gas guzzlers to house plants, pets, and trees. When we all work together we can do whatever we need to do. Together, we are enough, together we are strong. Together we track down the way to get though whatever happens."

Ms. Carol took a breath, then asked "Now, class; may we count on you to help, too?" As they nodded she went on; "Then let's do our song."

The sweet sound flowed down the hall, as dozens of treble tones:

"We aren't scared of the dark,

Together we gather the bark,

The sun shall come back

We'll on be on track

Together we carry the spark!"

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For Vocal's 'L*pogram Challenge. Comments welcome.