And Then There Were None
When he was young, he heard lots of stories about generations past. He was amazed at how extensive their living quarters were in their infancy. There was no lack of food; you could always find something to eat. The warm environments left by nature sustained them.
Their lifespan was something to be dreamed of and admired. They were independent and allowed to do their thing.
It might have taken a few days to get accustomed to growing up when they emerged from their cozy surroundings, but they did.
And then came adulthood, when the chemistry of love and desire took hold. They’d light up the darkest times with joy and mutual satisfaction.
They were envied by all in the living world. An outlander’s goal was to capture the sight and light of their existence, to capture their being, and to be awed at what something so small could create. Their light from within and throughout the summer nights brightened even the gloomiest of observers.
He was amazed when he was told that many of his ancestors didn’t eat at all in adulthood. Others fed on the nectar of life. All used the time they had left to put on displays to each other and the world to create a new generation of beings like himself.
He thought life was so short. We must use the time we have to relish what is important to us: being born, growing from babyhood to childhood, and eventually adulthood, and finding our significant others so that we can continue our evolution as a species.
This was his dream. Unfortunately, it is not coming true. The inhabitants around him have damaged their habitats, poisoned their fields, and taken away the environment that he needs to survive just to satisfy their narcissistic sense of what they consider beautiful.
He may be one of the last of his species. That is a great loss to humanity.
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Author’s note: Last night, as the lights of the houses around mine were turned off, I looked out upon a clear and ever-present darkness. Unlike in my youth, when I saw and enjoyed their multitudes, this night, I did not see a single firefly. What have we done?
