writing prompt: Write from the point of view of the last tree standing in a forest.
|Once there were many of us, but now I'm alone. I stand here as I have for hundreds of years and survey the bare landscape that now surrounds me. How could they have let this happen? Once we were respected, revered, even worshipped. No more. After centuries of surviving harsh winters, threatening winds and lightning strikes that could have set us ablaze, we are wiped out, not by nature, but by man. He has come and destroyed us, one by one...and for what?
I stand here alone, once one of many, now only one. Tall, old and proud, soon to be gone like the others. Perhaps man will see the error of his ways, perhaps he will realize that we are living creatures here to help his existence, not by being milled, but by giving him oxygen to breathe. Or perhaps not. I will not be here to see the enlightenment of man, but I dare to dream that my seed lives on, that it is able to grow tall and strong and to once again be respected, revered and worshipped by man as we once were.