In this big wide world of ours, we rarely bother to even attempt a glance at other entities. Most of us are blinded by Western society’s beauracratic system and the attitude of selfishness committed by almost all. People wish to hoard their ideas until they can reap fame and fortune from them. You could argue that this is only natural - we want to make our lives worthwhile, so that existence is forced with a physical meaning.

On the other hand, you could also argue that our attitudes are really only due to the competitiveness of the modern world. It is said by most that competition is healthy. Try telling that to the agonized business executive under the knife with an ulcer!

This following piece that I concocted during one frustrated afternoon attempts to focus on an imaginary, slightly unorthodox entity. It may help a few of we humans to see that we are not the foremost entities of this world, but only a separate, but relevant part of it. If you stop to think, we humans are really the only beings on this planet to have revolted against the Darwinian theory that many eminent scientists had adopted.

The following story then, should offer a subtle difference to the run-of-the-mill story about sex/drugs/gore rubbish that we crave for today…

- * -

Yes mum, but why do they clad themselves in plant and fossil fibres? Why don’t they have a coat like ours?’

Gill smiled in amusement by creaking her joints somewhat alarmingly.

Well Pete, the answer’s all around you. Look at the sky. A hundred years ago it was unclad. But look at its state today. Now it’s garmented here, but stripped of its original pride elsewhere - or so i’ve been told.’

Pete looked confused. ‘So… you mean they clad everything like themselves. But why?’

Gill sighed in unison with the strong westerly wind. It had been four years since Grandpa and Joe, dear Joe her husband, had fallen to be taken away for stripping and dissection.

Gill and Pete had been spared. To give them pleasure at the futility of Pete’s youthful innocent curiosity.

Still, they’d been lucky so far. Most families were separated by miles, and so had to communicate by means other than by the manipulation of the sun.

At least she still had Pete. That aspiring youth who would go far. He asked many questions, listened patiently to the answers, and grew wiser with the passing moons. She felt a great internal swell of pride. Her son, they had said, was indeed and important being of their kind. At least, he would be if he survived past his fifteenth year.

She sighed, and looked back at him once more. He was distressed at her emotional inburst, trying to console with his love for her.

She smiled weakly, and tried to still her emotions, grateful for the comforting presence of her son. She must make the most of the passing months. He would inevitably be gone eventually, and the selfish mourning of what was to be was not good.

I’m sorry Pete, but… but the answer, I confess, is “Yes”. They take the ground and mould it into new skins - far too big to cover theirs. They cover us with a poisoned water to clean us of external life, and oh, how it stings! I feel my works being slowly rotted by its putrid falseness.

Yes, I know Mum. I feel it too. It’s in the air, in the ground, and rises with the sun to sting me. Look - see my fingers curled, Mum. It’s horrible.’

Gill looked at her son gravely. He was right, of course. He was perceptive in his innocence. And that was the way it was to be. On the day that they took him from her, he would be as the day he was born.

Yes Pete. It’s everywhere. You cannot escape it. You cannot escape them. But they will learn to respect us, and others too. This is our world, that is theirs. If only they weren’t so blind and arrogant. Then maybe, they could one day communicate with us. Then they would know how we and others in our situation, feel. Such a waste committed by but one kind.’

Pete giggled. ‘Don’t be so morbid, Mum. We’ve lots of time before they come. I mean… Mum? Mum…’

Here very essence froze, her emotions boiled to a tangled haze of fury as she saw their approach. And yet she could do nothing. He now faced his worst, and final ordeal. This was destiny. This was death. Death. Long, slow, painful. Pete looked fearful - innocence no longer protected him from the horrifying truth.

Mum… Please, Mum. Can’t we stop them?’ He knew it to be futile. ‘Mum… Help me. I… I want to learn so much more…’

Pete. I’m sorry. I thought it would be months… You’re so… so…’

She wept. She felt ashamed at her helplessness. ‘…You’re so young , my son.’

She watched in despair as they cut him from his feet, his vital juices oozing from the irrepairable wound, the agony shared by both.

She watched as they broke his limbs, and severed these too, until only his middle remained.

She knew what was to happen now. They hauled him into a lorry with many others, all of the same age, all destined for the same place. He would be taken to be skinned, split, and mutilated. It was unbearable. She hears the screams, the pleas, as she stood watching, helplessly, as her son disappeared into the distance.

She was old now. So very old. She wished death, knowing it would not come, for she was special. She was the chosen one. Chosen by her kind, even respected by theirs.

But they had taken her son. So why hate? She could never revenge, she knew that. So she but mourned. And watched, as her community disappeared one-by-one, until all that remained was a mass of severed feet, marking the graves of those that had gone before.

The forest was disappearing…

  • Simon Huggins, Approx. 1987