The wind whistled gleefully by, like a siren echoing, "warning, warning, warning," and all the creatures bowed their heads in the solemn silence of the night.
Old Grandpa Willow raised his shaggy hair first. He shook his head, and his wrinkled, brown, crooked face came to sight. Although his skin was dripping down and his thick veins were oddly conspicuous, his two little diamond-bright eyes shined with wisdom and passion.
"Dogs?" He called.
"Quack, quack." Several merry shouts came from the darkness.
"I said dogs. Alright, ducks?"
"Alright. There's something seriously wrong with the law of nature. Fireflies?"
"There is not a single firefly left in this village, Grandpa," reminded a cow quietly.
Awkward silence past by--
"Humph! Okay, bees?"
"Grandpa Willow, the bees...."
"Alright!" Snapped the Willow, firmly waving his branches, "fishes?"
Everyone stared at the dreadfully green lake. No fins or tails were out on the surface, but several Coca Cola cans and plastic bags floated around lazily. No, it had nothing to do with the pollution. It was because of Old Willow's poor grammar.
Several oil sleeks drifted on the lake.
Several buzzing came from the legs and tail of the mare.
"Well, I'm a mare," muttered the mare.
A blackbird burst out with a high-pitched, merry song he just composed.
"We are merry, merry, society, happy happy party, ho! Ho! In the midnight march on! March on! Bound to each other by piety-"
And all the birds broke out with a fierce argument that his pitch wasn't accurate, and that his beat was horrible. They started fighting like mad about who has the best voice of all. Loud and angry chirps pricked and spiked the whole air. Silly birds. Grandpa Willow shook his head, and the hairs swayed side to side.
"Good. Assuming that you are all here-"
"Fine, assuming that sheep and all rest of you are here, I'd like to make an announcement."
The creatures bowed their heads gloomily again. Only the wolf howled sorrowfully to the Moon.
"Mother Nature.....is dying."
Well, who did not know that? They had known, or should have known, from the very first day the intelligent, arrogant humans placed their puny little toes (says the hawks and cats) on Earth. They should have known that those strangely walking aliens would subdue the whole Earth soon and mold it into the form they please.
Mother Nature is dying.
The secret that was full on those pathetic human hands from the very day they grabbed those sharp tools in their hands. Grave Sun dissolved into the blue ocean, and Moon bowed her head in solemn lamentation. The only creatures that were unaware of this secret were the humans. They did not think that they were killing and murdering when they stabbed the mammoths. Moreover, they did not think that the skies would cough when they started running those factories. They didn't even dream of them crumbling down the mountains when they made tunnels and developed broad roads on the mountains. They just thought the world was getting better and better, and they leaned on the rocks they have destroyed and sighed: "Oh, how great and clever we are!"
How great, ignorant villains were they, not even trying to hear the yells of the Earth when they dug a mine, and indifferently blocking their ears when the trees groaned and pleaded when they fell down.
"Grandma Willow," Old Grandpa Willow often whines, "would have been 90 years of age if she was alive....they knock'd 'er 'own whe' 'e wos only 'ifty..." No one ever understands what he says, and he veils his face with his hairs and weeps silently alone.
"Mother Nature is dying," repeated the creatures. The low, gloomy voices echoed high in the dark air.
Mother Nature is dying.
Mother Nature was dying.
Mother Nature WILL DIE when no one takes action.
"What shall we do?" Whined a little pig. "Mother Nature is dying. What shall we do?"
"We....." Grandpa Willow started, carefully picking his words. What shall they do? Ask help to the humans? But would they even care? They themselves ruined the nature, blinded by their vain ambitions, abandoning the emergency sirens to ring loud and loud as they please. They couldn't, or wouldn't, realize that they the black blood of the Mother was flowing out of the dry cracks of the desert. Will they even try to listen that action MUST be taken? They all lost their minds on that dreaded technology and personal comforts. They echo meaningless words lazily stating that they MIGHT protect Nature, but their riches and comforts are their top priorities.
Or should they protect the Nature on their own abilities? But if millions of wild beasts with savage intellects are roaming around, murdering the mountains and lakes, what would the innocent animals and plants would do?
"We......" Grandpa Willow opened his mouth again. Everyone stared at him nervously. This was the moment which they were all longing for. Dogs raised their tails and wolves stopped howling. The cows stopped chewing their cuds. They all set their ears to listen, with faint hope growing cautiously in their bosoms. Perhaps the Willow would know the answer. He lived in this Earth for 127 years. He has wisdom and power which none of other creatures could have. They might have a brilliant solution to act on.
But when those humans aren't willing to do anything? When they are destroying the mountains and lakes? When the brave animal who stood against them disappeared from Earth?
What can they do?
Grandpa Willow gulped silently. He shook his head wearily and said, "Mother Nature is dying."
Several cries and lamentations broke out from the heartbroken creatures. They covered their faces with wings, arms, and leaves, and wept and wailed passionately together. They sang a croaky, out-of-tune requiem for the dying Nature.
They did not know that a young human boy was hiding between the bushes, listening to what they were saying. He fell to the ground and sobbed silently, until he became breathless. Unpleasant dust and polluted air rushed into his lungs.
It wasn't only the Mother Nature who was dying.
The murderers would die themselves someday, as the innocent creatures died out.
Warning, warning, warning.