The Folktale About Earth

For a time I believed that mankind had been swept out of existence, and that I stood there alone, the last man left alive.

― H.G. Wells, The War of the Worlds

When I was a child, my mother would babble about a planet called Earth. Everyone believed in this folktale—never second-guessing its authenticity. She would always start off with the phrase, “Earth is no longer what it was.” I guess for effect, or perhaps to install in my mind that Earth didn't disappear, but changed. I suppose everything needs an origin story, including our planet. This folktale had been passed down to my grandparents, and they passed it down to my parents, and then my parents passed it down to me. So, continuing the tradition, I'll pass the story on to you. You have to decide whether or not to believe in what I'm going to say. I don't know whether I believe it or not, but the idea of this folktale is very fascinating—wouldn't you say? Let me begin.

Earth is no longer what it was. I'm not sure what Earth really was, but my mother describes it to be waste before it had become a waste. The green grasslands and deeply brown soil of Earth ran dry and changed its color to match the atmosphere. Earth is dead. Indeed, it been so for a while now. However, life does dwell upon the lands and swim in the waters of this new planet, but they are not their former selves. No, they adapted fairly quickly. As if they planned out the destruction of Earth, as they did to the red planet that's millions of miles away. Earth is no longer what it was. See—see what I did there? Same thing my mother had told me, leaving me in suspense.

The Earth's sun one day burned its last fiery flame and exploded into three. It flames spat out and onto the moon that was on the other side of what was once Earth. Becoming its own illumination, never to reflect the rays of the, then, singular sun and the now multiple ones. The moon projects a greenish hue as the other three suns, that varies in colors simultaneously twirl and dance around what was once Earth. Darkness ceased to exist—now it is just a mere memory for those who walk on the foundation—it became folklore to them. Well, technically we, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Anyways, since the explosion of the sun, birthing triplets, the flames incinerated the five layers of Earth and charred the lands black. Just how the suns incinerated the layers, oxygen had evaporated leaving air to depend upon the next best thing... carbon dioxide. The chemical compounds of water changed its formula. Now, there's only, hydrogen that possesses the seven seas and the lakes and rivers, creeks and rain—and almost every other water there is to be on the former green planet. The water reflects the sky above, turning it into the color of freshly poured wine—but it is still clear to the touch. Still mimicking its predecessor. The lands of this use to be Earth was bleached a maroon color due to the abundance of light by the suns and the moon. It changed its texture and its function. The trees that grow from the oddity of the soil, drenched by the hydrogenic water, grown to become large, to bear fruits as great and big as cars were before Earth's transformation. Now, the fruits I'm referring too are those gigantic fruits that the kids like to cut open, empty the insides and have it as a clubhouse. You are one of those kids.

So, besides the changing of Earth, the animals that once maneuver around all the lands and beneath all the waters, are no longer, except one. Can you guess? No, don't guess. Those animals could not nearly adapt as quickly as the ones who are walking on the lands, and they could not think to swiftly survive like the ones below. There are no birds that fly in the dense air, gripping on the red branches of the now large yellow trees—indulging in the luxury of the enlarge fruits that are now genetically unknown to men but can last one person, months, and for the birds, years. There are no fishes in the lakes, rivers, ponds, or seas. Now, the waters are emptiness, bottomless voids, no life dwells in the surroundings of it. They did not have time to adapt or to survive. And don't worry about what birds and fishes are. My mother said birds were creatures that fly in the sky and fishes swim in the water. I'm sure that would be an amazing sight to see... but I can't imagine such a thing.

It seems Earth is unlivable, due to the catastrophe of its environment. If there is no oxygen, then there is no life. Oxygen was important to these beings, you see. What we breathe isn't oxygen at all, we don't even know what that is, really. This is not Earth—for Earth is no longer and never going to be. Its existence and what it once was, is dead. You see, there is a new life within that former planet, or, rather a new adaptation of life. My mother always said, “A new beginning of life and the start of a new planet.”

The people within Earth knew of the destruction that was going to happen. They put on a facade to the public, never breaking a sweat on lying about what was going to happen. No, they did not even attempt to subliminally convert the message in songs and through television screens. Instead, they secretly done studies, quietly build simulations of what life would be like when the sun explodes and Earth without oxygen—without its outer five layers. Those beings were very wicked to their own, and when they found only death, they came to the realization that life can still be sustained, and even without this Earth's layers and oxygen and even when the sun explodes. But did they inform the public then? No. They gather the elites first and took them to the safe place and then they took the upper-class people and then the upper-middle-class people, and then the middle-class people and then the upper lower and lower-class people. They took them all, twenty thousand a day, for five years, until the great explosion. It seemed like they took everyone, but the secrecy was not towards them—the problem was not classism.

Now, if I'm not mistaken, they dwell in the bottom of what was once Earth. The only place that will be able to sustain life—still withholding oxygen that is so valuable to them, still having flowing and drinkable water and food. They build themselves their own colonies—their own towns, within this hole. And they thought they had got over on the sun and Earth's alliance to destroy life—their life. But now they just live their life on the edge, in darkness, counting their days on when the world they had built, would become no longer—like the Earth above. Or maybe they would run out of food or oxygen. See, this where the problem of the story rubs me the wrong way. How can life be sustained in a hole? How they covered it? What food are they eating?

Enough of my questions. When the sun charred the lands of what used to be Earth with its bright light, the impotent people who were left to endure such scorch, survived. Yes. What the people who sworn secrecy and left in stealth did not know, is that the people they left behind were not simply just human. They possess a quality unlike what the others have. When the sun exploded and cast its light on what was Earth, instead of the people becoming dust, they absorbed the sun's heated rays. The flames of the sun were swallowed by their skin and were engraved into their veins and fused with their DNA. The sun dwells within them now—well you know who. Their skin became a dark silvery metallic epidermis, and their dermis posses the light of an explosive sun, reflecting the three suns and moon above. They had no use of oxygen now, as their skin breathes for them and they no longer had the need to eat or to starve, for they were forever full from the absorption of the sun. They were like walking plants, in their own right. Always fully energized. They became untouchable and swam in the void of the waters, that produces a thin layer of smoke from the gases released from it. And from the remains on what was Earth, the degenerating buildings that became corroded had become their paradise. They danced on the debris—danced in its glory. They loved the destruction of it all and laughed at the selfishness of those that left them to die. They bask in the ambulance of the new world. They became what they always wanted to be—what they anticipated on being. Now they live in a paradise of materials unknown to men. Now they dwell above what was once Earth, admiring the view of three suns and a moon that produces its own light. They speak of Earth as a story now, and can still hear the moaning sounds of phantoms beneath their feet. My mother always ended the story with that phrase, “Moaning sounds of phantoms.” Whatever that had meant.

This is the story of our ancestors, my mother had told me. For all I know, we had always been like this, and any remnants of that world—whether made-up or real- are nonexistent. The stories are passed down orally. So, it is a hearsay kind of thing. There's no proof in the existence of that world. Of course, the sun's formation did nearly evaporated everything, but nothing survived? Not one single thing? My mother said they had groups that believe in a thing that was all-knowing. I think she said they call this thing a god, and they would go against themselves—their own natural being just to please this thing. I find it to be funny to put everything in something you cannot see. To cause destruction in its name. She told me they call beliefs like this religion, or perhaps religion was based on these beliefs... I forgot. But us believing such stories of another world, and them causing its own destruction is quite far-fetch, like the beliefs those beings believed in. However, I guess every being needs something to grasp on to. We holding on to these stories, making it history. Perhaps we are the phantoms beneath our own feet, moaning slight discretion. What do you think of this story? Do you believe in that world? Or are you going to be like me and be stuck in between?