Kieran | they/them he/him |

Australian | Nerd | Foodie | Skychild

Writer - Worldbuilder - Daydreamer - Strugging Procrastinator

Message from Writer

Dreams, come and go but ideas flow out this head of mine.

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I'm a creator of worlds, a daydreamer. I bleed to put words on a page. I dream of people wondrous, creative and intelligent people, people I wish I knew. I put reveal my true self to others, inner thoughts, hopes, dreams and values.

I fill computer screens with words, paper with ideas, and my head with dreams.

I write stories and share them with you.

Despair Of A Mother

December 8, 2019

PROMPT: One Home

Gaia, the mother earth goddess cried an ocean as she stared down at her beloved child. She had been in a fit of despair for many moons now, so many she had lost count.

Her finest creation. Her pride and joy. The invention that the heavens had sung lavish praises for. Even Chaos, her most bitter enemy, had agreed it was a feat.
Now, they had betrayed her.
They had ripped her trust and love from her body. Tearing her very soul apart, piece by piece. They had forgotten, no, ignored, no, laughed, at the promise their ancestors had made centuries before them.
They didn't understand, those ignorant blockheads.

She had given them intelligence above all other lifeforms. The power of creativity, imagination and abstract thought. She had given them the gift of always evolving, developing through the ages.
Giving them the potential to create things their ancestors had only dreamed of.
She hadn't asked for much. All she had asked for in return, was one, simple thing.
Look after this earth, my child, and all its inhabitants.

But no. Never. They never had. They never will.
She stared down at the tirade of destruction they had made.

Sprawling cities, jungles of concrete and steel.
Rainforests, some of her proudest elements of her child. Cleared to oblivion right and left, to make way for food production.
Stupid. Hadn't she taught them how to farm and gather food while working with her child? Of course, they were so blinded now they had forgotten her ways.

Her beautiful oceans, many floors clogged with that destructive, everlasting material. What was it they called it? Of course... plastic.

She had realised it too late. But... Not so late there was no chance... Of turning things around. For the better.

There was still time. Still time to save her child.
Once she did, they wouldn't know what had hit them. Oh no.
She was going to make them pay.


See History
  • December 8, 2019 - 10:52pm (Now Viewing)

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