Written in response too Creative Writing Ink Prompt Competition, January 12th.
It shoots up into the air. The last one to fly everything else to safety. They stole from the earth the remaining fuels, and necessary resources, captured wild animals, and took forests in the many. Water taken from the rivers, soil samples torn from the ground. Important artefacts, fossilised bones, removed from the museums and of course all the mobile humans.
I sit here now lonely on the desolate planet. Behind me a remaining forest, that wasn’t harvested to be saved. The sky shifts from the sunny hues to an ashen black gloom. The rain then begins to proceeds to wash another fine layer of paint from my walls.
The cycle of patience continues, the stop watch ticking down to the final second of earth. I understand why they left and I understand why they left me here. But still, I had hopes of all my contents being emptied out. Each screw and vehicle, the spanners and engines, tools of repair and spare tyres. If they had taken them, as they emptied out the other buildings, then at least some of me would have been taken.
Maybe, they could of had the mercy to take the flies as well, I mean they buzz all the time. The irritating little legs, thick and crooked, large wings, enormous all seeing eyes and of course the body. The large black shelled body, so ripe for crushing. I wish I had fingers. I would swat those pesky flies, as far away as possible.
It would have been kind to take the clock too, the constant clicks, a reminder for the future, the fate I must suffer, along with the trees that live behind me, and the clouds in the sky.
It would have been nice, to have been treated with a final lacquer of paint, the licks of refreshing paint, scratching away over the top of the old peeling flesh I still wear.
Most of all, they could of have had the courtesy to remove the bodies, before that final ship flew off. It would have been generous to bury those bits of flesh with wide horrified eyes. Eyes, that opened doorways into their every memory, each glint, each shade and tint, each and every coloured spark, flaring out, holding the memories that had slipped from the brain. It would have been ethical, to bury the humans, as their ancestors, in recent years and prior generations, for the family and the kindness for the bodies themselves.
But no, of course the humans didn’t bring all of them. No, they didn’t grant a shred of modesty to those bodies, as they left them on the ground, to rot away. Of course the humans eliminated those too poor, or the left overs, as the ships overflowed. Yet they did put them out of their misery. They did shoot them, effectively and efficiently, without mercy.
They are vile, ungrateful creatures.