Memory lost

She’d been running like a madwoman for a few minutes now, yet she felt like she could hold this pace forever, and nothing could stop her. Not the branches that whipped her face, nor the thorns of the wild brambles that slashed her legs and arms. For these small nicks were nothing compared to the anguish responsible for this frantic race. An agony she knew all too well, yet still it suffocated her, drove her on edge, often obligated to flee, sometimes completely unable to move, in each case in the grip of some unspeakable malaise.

And so she ran on, and on, until, red and covered in sweat, breathless and on the verge of fainting, her feet bid her to stop, for they could take it no more. It was only at this point that she took a look at her surroundings, and to her great surprise, realised after all the slashing branches and cruel thorns, the dark masses that flew before her eyes, she had stumbled upon a small clearing. Bathed in sunshine, the peaceful glade was like a pool of light, and suddenly all her senses were enchanted. Each ray of sunlight on her skin felt like a honey on her tongue, the gentle breeze a caress on her scarred body. A symphony of scents came to her nostrils and at once, she knew how to breathe again. Before her eyes, there was a painting. Or was it? For no brush and no paint could have rendered such radiance, no hand could have crafted such a picture. 

Here, bundles of daisies and bonnies showed their bright faces to the sun, there, sweet mallows and daffodils unfurled their fragrant petals. Colonies of wild hyacinths met the lovely but poisonous foxgloves. Everywhere she looked, there was a small explosion of colours. To her right were small patches of violet and purple, to her left, blotches of light yellow. Before her, at least five different shades of green mingled with spots of the purest white, along with a few splashes of pink.

All this great sense-appeal had, much like a miracle, managed to soothe her poor tormented soul. And for the first time in what seemed to be an eternity, she felt good. Good, the word had almost gone missing from her vocabulary… But now she was calm, now she was breathing, now she was feeling, something, anything other than pain.

For a while she relished this blessed moment. She allowed herself to revel in those sweet fragrances, to gaze at each flower, each bumblebee buzzing nonchalantly, each ant or butterfly going restlessly about their business. She enjoyed each stroke of the gentle wind on her skin. She deserved it. 

When was the last time she actually felt a hint of happiness? She realised that was completely unable to remember. Has it really been that long? Yes, yes it has…

Ah, the sweet perfume of everything blooming around her…

But there it was! A memory long lost, brought back so suddenly by the intricate work of her mind and her senses together. A simple breath of fresh air had revived old memories that had laid hidden in the dark recesses of her brain all these years.

As she allowed herself to reminisce, she saw her, this little girl, or perhaps a little boy, it didn’t matter, running in the tall grass of the clearing, stroking each flower in passing. Here, the red-cheeked child had captured a ladybug, now was gazing at the iridescent reflections on a dung beetle’s back. Then she knew, that was her, this kid running around with a smile on her face, whose laughter echoed in the clearing, that was her. Such a healthy glow she had, such shiny gleams in her hair, and that joyous laugh… Further away, coming from the woods, a voice called. It was a deep voice, even solemn in a way, but a comforting voice, one that made you feel safe. There he was, the owner of that voice, an old man, still rather fit for his age. He had silver hair and a moustache, and soft, clear eyes that both commanded authority and reflected a sort of wisdom, the kind you could only acquire after a few decades in this life. The man was her dear grandfather, or rather, he was her hero, her god. He had taught her everything, every family of plants, in which seasons they grew,  all the animals that lived in this region, what their footprints on the ground looked like, the best ways to spot them. He had taught her how to carve wood, how to make the best bonfire, even how to sharpen a cooking knife or how to use a screwdriver. He knew the history of all the county, of this very forest. Thanks to him, the art of making pancakes had no secret for her.

She had forgotten what bliss felt like, and now she was letting herself dive deeper and deeper into it. She took a look at the trees surrounding her, at their foliage tickled by the wind, and why were their leaves starting to fall one after the other? Why was the bark suddenly peeling off the trunks as if they had been struck by a deadly disease? 

She stared at the grass around her, and horrified, saw the flowers wither and crumple into themselves and the bees fall dead on the ground. A foul smell started to invade the space. Above her, dark clouds were gathering. That peaceful clearing in which she stood was no more. 

All became dark, and rotten, and corrupt, as though a striking illness had seeped into this safe haven, contaminating every living thing in its path. Her shelter seemed to crumble all around her in a great turmoil, and at once, she could hear them again, those horrible screams, those cries of distress. The air was getting even fouler, the sky even darker. Her breath became shorter, her pulse faster, that was her old agony coming back in a breaking wave that gave no respite. All around her she saw it again, the sticking heap of metal and machinery, the black fumes that rose in the sky from every corner. 

That was her life now. That was what they had done to Earth.