The Earth groaned, years of smoking and drinking had made the disease grow and become violent. The disease dug into his skin scarring his once beautiful face. He tried killing the disease, but it was no use, the disease spilled black sludge in his oceans. He cried in agony as the disease cut and stabbed through him.
“Help me!” he screamed, but no one answered.
He worried about his children, the disease had invaded their homes, tore them limb from limb; captured them and devoured their flesh. He hated the disease, sprouted from his own flesh and blood the disease grew. He hated it; hated how it invaded and destroyed his children’s homes and he hated how it will eventually kill him. He wondered if his children would be protected, but he knew the disease killed so many.
The Earth slowly died, his breath became short and quick, gasping for as much oxygen as he could, the disease polluted his lungs, ripping holes into his lungs thin skin.
He started to cry.
He didn’t want to die, he was still young, and he wanted to watch his children grow but because of the disease, he knew they wouldn’t last.
The Earth took one last breath and died, his lungs burst and his blood oozed out of him.
A man walked along the path, his gas mask tightened to his face. After the Earths death, oxygen was thin. The smoky green clouds hung heavily in the sky and the trees, flowers and grass were slowly becoming black and dead. The man walked a little more until he picked it carefully, he couldn’t remember the scent of a rose, it had been so long ago. The man took off his gas mask and buried his nose in the rose, the scent was faint but it was sweet.
The man’s breath become short and he fell to the ground.
The air was thin and slowly the man died, still clutching onto the rose the man closed his eyes.