He stands on the "beach" - or that was what he called it, his clothes billowing in the wind, staring into something far far away, something mesmerizing, captivating, something I'm incapable of seeing. I can see it in his eyes. He's enjoying it, every moment, thoroughly, almost with a sense of nostalgia.
"Uhh. Sir? You called for me?" I ask.
He suddenly snaps back into reality. "Ah, yes," he mumbles distractedly, snapping his fingers. The perfect image crumbles into mere nothingness as the office returns to its bland grey state, the vivid colors fading away into a regular office of boring concrete. Leaving behind nothing but whispers of the hot wind, which had felt so real and fitting.
He pulls two chairs from the corner and signals me to sit on one, he himself occupying the other.
"So I called you to talk about your climate change project. What I'd like to say is, some facts on your poster are incorrect." He looks at me in the eye and nods. "Plastic isn't - or wasn't - biodegradable." He gulps like there was something hard to swallow in his throat, and a tear glistens in his dark eyes, weary with age.
"I'm sorry-" I start.
"Don't be," he says, shaking his head, "it's not your fault. In fact we really owe you guys, your generation and many generations after. We ruined the Earth and the natural beauty of our world. It's our fault. You don't even know what a beach is. You call it dump waters. All it is to you is muddy and murky with no marine life."
He bows his head and I can see it - the tears fall, shining and sparkling, crystal clear like diamonds. I feel the genuine sorrow and sincerity in this apology, and I cannot help but feel sorry for him.
I put my hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Mr White. We- we-" the words get stuck in my throat as I remembered the beautiful image of the beach. That foreign word rings in my mind as I mouth it. All was cooling, calming, many adjectives I'd never experienced before. Everything to me is school, school, school, and after school we just play games on holographic screens. All I'm missing out on fills my mind and I cannot help but resent our ancestors for whatever they'd done to planet Earth. Until now I'd never really known or cared, but seeing the beach in comparison to our virtual and artificial stuff...
Perhaps the only trace we have left of what beauty the natural Earth used to have is just this. I snap my fingers and the beautiful image forms again. The sun shines on, warm but not hot, the oceans shimmer, crystal clear like diamonds, without pollution of plastic, the sands are white and beautiful, the birds soaring in the air. All is here, but all is gone.
In the moment, we sit in the wake of our Earth's natural beauty in mourning...
(500 words excluding this bracketed line)
YOU ARE READING
The Beach #PlanetOrPlastic
Short Story"I snap my fingers and the beautiful image forms again. The sun shines on, warm but not hot, the oceans shimmer, crystal clear like diamonds, without pollution of plastic, the sands are white and beautiful, the birds soaring in the air. All is here...
