2022-2023 — the TOWER

1st of March, 6089:

The first observation I take note of is the heat. The air flowing from the depths of the shallow cave holds the same power as the fire I burn for shelter each night. Though, where the heat is coming from is more of a concern to me than the sweat I can feel beading on the back of my neck.

The water is blue, crystal clear, and innocent. It holds ripples even though the pond contains no animal life. The plants at the bottom glow pink and the shells shimmer a pearly white, half buried in the brown sand.

My hands, already caked in dirt, push into the sand as I search with blind hope for whatever could give me answers. Closing my eyes, I feel the wind shift quickly, causing my arrows in their quiver to release a gentle clink and my hair to switch directions. There is a soft echo of wind chimes somewhere in the distance, a warning.

I remove my hands and brush the sand off as frustration builds up quickly. There is nothing. Absolutely nothing. The pool glows menacingly and I watch the wind pick up more in the greenery. The pool wasn't here a year ago, the magic seems to be creeping back into this world, and I'm not sure if I should be worried or not.

Shifting back on my knees, I settle to take in the surroundings. The slow buzz of old machines seems to vibrate the rest of the room further back. I can never tell if they truly work or if it's only the echoes of memories from the past. Dark vines travel in twisted roads up the walls and around the technology, leaving only the original communications pad in the middle of the room exposed. This old room, which has been eaten away into a cave, once held the leftover civilization they referred to as the Watchers. Now there are only two of us left.

I turn my gaze to the mouth of the cave as dark wood creaks in the wind at the edge of the forest. Dark scraps of worn-out metal scatter the ground and the trees shift to cover the sun, leaving the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The bushes move to the right of the cave and I quickly stand in a defensive position. Not many things in these woods could hurt me, but with the paranoia of the pool and the warnings maybe I should be more cautious.

My breath releases quietly as I recognize the three clicks of a bumble fox and I lower my stance. “You can come out now Crew,” I say and crouch back down as my friend tumbles out. I watch the white fox circle me then sniff the pool, finally coming to sit in front of me. His blue accents shine the same color as the pool, and his eyes pierce my soul, holding the color of hydrangeas.

“What do you think it is?” I ask, tilting my head towards the shallow pool, as I scratch behind his ear. He responds with another pattern of clicks and darts to the other side of the cave, sitting down on the dark stone platform and clicking again.

“The comms pad? Crew, you know as well as I do that we probably won't live to see it light up. Besides, the pool seems to be… consuming the mechanisms.” I run my fingers gently over top the water, watching the ripples reach Crew as he leans down excitedly, pushing his nose just barely past the water line until he can blow bubbles at the tiny waves. I laugh and stand once more.

“Come on, buddy, let's go back to camp, Mellow is waiting for us and you know she hates when we show up after dark.” I am met with another series of clicks and watch him shake the water droplets off his snout before he trots back out the entrance of the cave.

I take one more look at the pool and its slow connection to the only hope for civilization. I frown, take in the vines that crawl up the cave and around the machines left over, and turn around, ready to head back to camp.

1st of June, 6089:

Nature is changing, or maybe evolving. The path I'm on has gained the new roots of a new species of tree that has bright green trunks and dark brown leaves. In my opinion, the countryside is prettier than where the old cities reside. That’s where things get darker as the trees connect through the skyscrapers which create a “second sky” as Mellow calls it. It's hard to see there, and the place is overrun with hybrid creatures I would rather not disturb.

Crew trots ahead with a slight click with every other hop, but my amusement goes unnoticed. I'd like to think he believes he’s my protection, but I know from past experiences that he isn't as brave as he projects. I watch him jump and I follow his lead as we both pass over a wing detached from an old spaceship that failed to evacuate with the rest of civilization.

The wind picks up and I shiver despite the direct sunlight and heat. The woods seem tense, have they always been that way? I shake the cold away and extend my neck to face the sun. Squinting my eyes, the sun looks the same as it has always looked. The generations of lost time, however, have resulted in a front-row seat to the up-close viewing of both Jupiter and Saturn. They rotate fast in the sky, and I lower my eyes, remembering all the times I feared they would crash into us as a little girl. That fear doesn't matter quite as much anymore.

Picking up speed to reach my destination, Crew suddenly stops dead in his tracks. I lower my body as quickly as he does and listen closely. The world may be free of humans, but danger is still around some corners. I hear leaves rustle, Crew’s ears flick from left to right, and he huffs before continuing. I peer up and into the trees to see the first sighting of the mice.

For as long as I can remember, and for as long as Mellow can remember, our dying society has made the short trek to the mangle trees. These twisty trees are home to the mangle fruit, better known to me as mouse fruit. A sweet fruit resembling an orange with a blue center filled with sour jelly to make my nose scrunch. When Mellow was a kid a new species of mice moved into these trees and now, in order to enjoy the delectable fruit, you have to be wary of the little warriors. They aren't violent. They just value ‘their’ fruit over what I would call logic. In one wrong move, you'll get a whole army of purple mice nibbling your behind.

Crew especially hates these creatures since he's had experience in the nibbling department.

The solution, I've found, is to gather the fruit that grows at the lowest part of the twisty trees. The mice will allow this with sharp supervision of course. Suffice it to say it's both a funny and stressful job. Today seems like a calm stay, and I move to pick a few as quickly and quietly as possible while ignoring the clicks Crew makes as he watches dozens of beady little eyes pop up from the tree limbs to observe.

I pick my last fruit, shoving them into my shallow bag made of plastic and the hair from a drudge bear- a long-haired species native to the west side of what was once San Francisco. Turning my back on the odd creatures, I chuckle at Crew’s blatant fear and click for him to follow me out of the tree grove.

I let the breeze drift over me once more as I steer my direction toward the cave holding my one and only task of checking for changes. I ignore the warning goosebumps that I've become accustomed to, knowing this routine check will hold no change.

8th of July, 6089

“What happens if I drink the water?” I ask and bend down to scratch Crew’s chin.

“I don’t know.” Mellow replies shortly. She's currently digging through an old storage bin that used to be full of technology taken from a theme park in Hollywood. The park isn't really there anymore but Mellow said she collected most of the scraps when she was a kid. I have no idea what exactly it is she's looking for.

“Do you think I'll be immortal?” I ask in order to keep the very interesting conversation going.

“I don't know.” She replies and continues to make a mess in her urgent search. I sigh and drop the one-sided talk, using the time to observe. She's wearing the red coat meant to identify the watchers, but with no one around, it kind of has lost its fashion sense a hundred years ago. Personally, I've never worn one and I have no idea why she's wearing it.

Mellow used to wear it during my training lessons. She could get a bit… intense when it comes to training. For a watcher, training comes with specialties. There are defenders and gatherers, but the most important job goes to those instructed to maintain and watch the communications pad. Seeing as it's only Mellow and I now, training for me consisted of every job.

Yet, my training has been over for years. Technically it ended when I turned sixteen but Mellow has always kept up the tradition of “training” every few months. She likes to say it “keeps me on my toes.” I notice further that she has her hair down today. One thing about Mellow is that she values neatness and order, she doesn't like much mess and she certainly doesn't like wearing her hair down, opting to usually leave it in braids. Neat, tight braids. I don't like that her hair is down.

To finish off the look, she is wearing her normal everyday attire topped with her shin pads. She explained that she had taken a short trip to one of our water sources earlier- The Colorado River. It's the cleanest and closest body of water and there is a small output our people put in a few hundred years ago that makes the whole trip easier. The only problem was the nearby company or the reason for the shin guards. The output and surrounding areas tend to be the home of the Flat-footed boating ducks, a particularly vicious species with razor-sharp teeth. They are easy to avoid and if you throw a chunk of meat at them, they'll remember and respect you forever. I've only seen them a few times but the one time I accidentally did get close without meat, Crew came home with a chunk out of his tail. He doesn't like making that trip anymore.

“Aha!” Mellow cries and backs out quickly causing Crew and I to jump out of the way. I followed the short old woman to her hut and waited for her to gather what she needed.

“Today is the day.” She says and turns to me with an overexcited, creepy smile.

“What's special about today?” I ask as she shoves a couple of bags in my hands, both filled to the brim with flowers.

“Today we visit the graves.” She replies like it's a triumph to admit, a smile still etched on her face as she grabs a few more bags and takes off in the direction of the hills. It's a fairly short trip but it's in a direction we don't usually take, the hills are safe but don't go on forever. Past them is the desert which is known for its fire tornados and large, aggressive lizards. Crew starts to follow her and I hitch the bags more securely on my shoulder before walking after them. The air is hot and humid and I think about ways the ducks like to cool off.

The graves are a mass burial of the watchers that came before me. The hills roll and I am unable to see the horizon, standing by Mellows side looking over thousands of mismatched headstones. Their names are etched out with knives, the older they are the less likely you can read them. Most are buried neatly and with dignity. I briefly wonder who will bury me.

Mellow resumes her trek and I follow her to the most recent headstone, a big block of concrete that was taken from an old building that had fallen. My father died when I was six. It was only the three of us, so when he passed, Mellow took over. I don't remember that much, as Mellow did a good job of filling my life with love so it didn't seem like any was missing. I was told my mother passed when I was born. Their headstones sit next to each other.

Mellow pays her respects down the line of those she can remember, placing flowers down from the bags she had snatched from me walking up. Stopping at the next free plot, she sits on her knees and looks up at me with a smile, the light reflecting her green eyes, sheltered by smile lines detailing a happy life. She pats the ground next to her softly. I sit and let Crew squeeze his way between Mellow and I. Mellow drags a bony hand over his ears slowly and he clicks a few times.

“My time is near.” She says not looking at me, her peaceful gaze focused on the sky as it turns from a soft blue to a softer shade of purple, the first sign of nightfall. Crew whines and her strokes continue through his fur.

“That's morbid” I reply, vaguely feeling like someone pulled the ground out from under me. She snaps her neck up with her signature scowl.

“Don't be smart, you need to finish your training.” She snaps and seems to come back down to Earth as she aggressively begins to unpack her bags.

“I have finished my training,” I say carefully as she shoots another glare my way, not really paying attention. She pulls out a big piece of thick sheet metal, some tools, and her hunting knife from one bag and then pulls more flowers from her other bag. I watch as she digs a shallow hole in line form before shoving the sheet metal in so it would stay upright. She digs another hole, this one is deeper and off to the side like all the others. She pushes a metal cylinder in the hole and then fills the hole with the flowers she brought before sitting back to shove her knife in my hand.

“When your Father passed and left me with a machine in the form of a child, I never thought we would make it. I thought about being the last for a long time, it bothered me in the beginning.” She said and went back to gazing at the slowly darkening skies.

“And now?” I ask, wanting her conclusion of our predicament.
“You get to figure that one out on your own.” She says with a soft smile before lifting her hand to cup my cheek.

“And my training?” I ask, curiosity always eating away at my heart.

“Before I leave you, I have one final lesson.” She says letting her hand fall away before pulling my hand with the knife up to the rusty piece of metal. She starts to push the knife with my hand which prompts me to relax and let her. I watch her use my own hand to carve out letters and I sit up straighter at the sudden need to cry.

“Even in the darkest moments,” She says, dropping my hand with a smile before placing hers on my chest, “Don't forget where you come from.”

In loving memory of
Mellow Crives

14th of August, 6089:

I buried her early this morning with the sunrise. She enjoyed the colors and the early breeze that came with the dawn of a new day, so I thought it would be appropriate. The world feels quieter and I miss her already. I am alone.

Making my monthly trip to the comms pad is difficult knowing I only ever did it 'cause Mellow said it was our duty, but I know as well as she did that it's become a hopeless venture.

Crew follows me closely as if he can sense my lazy sorrow. He sniffs the air every few minutes in case he needs to warn me of the unknown, but today has granted me silence. No warning signs, no wind, no growth, just peace. I am thankful.

It's the noise that's caused me to miss what is right there. The old temples on the east side of these woods are now almost covered in the very vines that erase history for sport. The statues have fallen, and the old air has vanished. Our people told stories of the ancient Golden Gate Bridge collapsing and how the oceans have taken over like the old gods in fairy tales. Nature is taking over and fighting back. The truce we hold is dwindling as I am the last human on Earth. My hope is in its patience.

I wish I would have asked more questions about our past or the details of the Watchers' origins and the reason we were truly left behind. The knowledge had been passed down for years and yet it seems to have been forgotten with time.

When we reach the pool it doesn't look like it did last month. Regardless of its stillness, it looks alive. It looks like it's gained strength. The comms pad is now completely submerged in the shallow waters. I doubt it works.

Bending down, I survey the status of the machinery and how the deeper blue encroaches on where the signal would be. The water stares back as I examine my face, the dirt that has been permanently etched in my pores is more obvious now than it has been in the past. I think of Mellow and past watchers as ripples arise on the surface, objecting at the salty invaders that escape from my eyes. The pool isn't the only being that has changed.

21st of December, 6089:

I awake to a long, harsh series of clicks.

“Go away,” I say tiredly and get no difference in response. My bones creak as I rise with a stretch of my arms, and a sudden high-pitched whine makes me jump. I pause at the thought of something being wrong. I push out of the shelter and peek around the door. I've never seen a bumble fox this far out other than Crew, but it never hurts to be cautious.

Crew continues his panicked clicking as he shoves open the entrance faster than I have time to assess the situation and begins tugging at my shirt. Cold, sharp air hits my neck, and I hiss at the intrusion. The clicking has somehow sped up and I have the quiet thought that Crew sounds awfully like a cicada with the harsh rhythm.

“Alright, alright. What's got your fur standing up?” I ask as I tug on my winter coat and pull out my bow with an arrow already knocked. I stumble out of the shelter space and start sprinting after the clicking animal, once he had seen me on my feet he had taken off.

I quickly caught up with him while observing the path that led us to whatever destination he was leading me. The dark is highlighted as the tree tops cover the bright projection of planets much closer than my ancestors could have pictured. The trees shift as the wind picks up. We pass the mangle trees and both Crew and I almost get knocked over by the large number of mice making their way back up them. I make an effort to keep up with Crew and not let the forest creature’s panic frighten me or slow me down.

Trees ache in the rough treatment as I hear the wind chimes stationed throughout Watcher territory chime loud and long with urgency. The leaves shift and beckon us forward as Crew picks up speed. I watch with increasing alarm as the racket owls circle around the trees and hurry to get back to their homes in blurs of silver and purple. They usually protect the woods at night.

We turn at the juncture, and I stop short, causing Crew to spin around and resume his panic at the sight of my hesitance. This path only leads to the cave. The very cave that holds the communications pad. The wind shifts directions as quickly as the birds, and the realization dawns on me. I hear the deep voice of the wind chimes once more.

I bypass Crew quickly, and seeing that I understand now, he chooses to follow. I haven't visited in months, and I regret it quickly. The cave entrance is completely covered by black and green vines tightening like a knot. I pull out my arrow and use the end to make space for an entrance.

I hear it before I see it.

Beep
Beep
Beep

Its light illuminates the magical pool that has doubled- no, tripled-in size. Training runs through my head. I open the panel placed on the far wall and pull the computer out to answer the phone. They ask for confirmation of life forms and then will receive my coordinates to dispatch a crew of people to survey the land and determine if the Watchers’ diagnosis is correct. That is if the diagnosis of livability is up to their standards. Then I will not be the only human on this planet.

Yet, I don’t move. The signal continues to beep. It will be until communication is reached. I take a step forward, and Crew clicks nervously. The next step makes the wind pick up, and I can hear the wind chimes once more.

I slowly switch directions and begin to submerge in the pool, shocked by the temperature as I shuffle and wade to what once stood proud as the comms pad. My fingers tenderly cup the signal like Mellow used to in order to wipe my tears, would she be proud of me now?

Beep
Beep
Beep

I think of the old monuments turned to ash, I think of the pictures drawn depicting the end of humanity as a giant ball of fire, I think of the peace and equality nature brings. I turn towards my friend and survey his stature. He would not exist if humans had not left. The mangle trees and their furious protectors wouldn't provide fruit and entertainment if it weren't for the death of society.

The noise and light grow persistent and the water is up to my stomach when I’m sitting on my knees. The pool trembles and the cold has turned me numb. The vines move like snakes in the trick of light and shadows. I wouldn't be here if humans had not left. My decision has been made.

Beep
Beep
Beep

I let my eyes settle on the device and feel a wave of calm wash over me. I repay that kindness. I stand and take another look around this room with no intention of moving closer to where the receiver sits. I so diligently devoted my life to this place, and I think back to every Watcher that devoted their life, too. No more. It is time for this place to rest. The signal gets louder as I retrieve my dropped items with a renewed sense of peace. I turn and walk out with Crew at my feet.

"This is my last attempt to gain control". Those were the last words my friend ever wrote, and they would change my life forever. Martineau was my best friend, my confidante; and it came as quite the malicious surprise when he didn't get better. We didn't understand it, Martin was always a sickly kid — he always had that pale greenish skin combined with a boney figure that evoked feeling of sympathy — but this, this was different. What seemed like a nasty case of flu ended up with him lying rather gravely in a hospital bed, surrounded by a colorful expanse of flowers and cards wishing him to “get well soon” and that he'll “be back in shape by May”. But the truth was, we had no idea what to expect. His illness was undefined, had no name. Test after test was conducted, yet it still loomed over us ever mysterious. The doctors could only theorize what was wrong and what would happen. I was seven when we met, fourteen when he first got sick, and fifteen when he died. It was late November, he was given a week to spend at home with his family for Thanksgiving. It was at this moment that Martin made up his mind. For once in his life, he would make the decision, he refused to let some unknown illness take his life. It would be under his own accord. I now realize that all Martin ever wanted was to have control in his life. His mother, a terribly high-strung and capricious woman, parented him with the iron fist that she was raised with. No one would blame her of course, she merely wanted her son to continue the legacy of their family's honor. The feeling of not being able to choose killed Martin, not his family or the illness. I remember exactly where I was when his sister called me. I had never understood what people meant when they said their life flashed before their eyes. But now I did. Martin's death made me understand what it meant to recalibrate, his death made me realize how unexpected life could be, and that to continue living the way I had would be a disservice to myself. The day that he killed himself, he wrote a letter to the each of us in the group, Elizabeth, Caroline, Nicholas, and I. That letter is my prized possession, something I value above all else. They are his parting words to me, his farewell. His letter changed the way I live. It opened my eyes to so much in life: the unexpectedness, the unfairness. When he first died, I was angry. Angry at a world who could make someone so young be consumed by an illness. Angry at the doctors, unable to find a cure. At most angry at myself, unable to stop this mysterious disease, this demon with no name from taking away someone who I loved. In the end I realized there was no bringing him back, and no one to blame. His death matured me in a way only death can — it enlightened me. One has to live like it is their last day, Carpe Diem.

What if / Peace

Curtains Close / Mikyle Coleman

Gabriel Talley /Boulder

Remembrance / Nico Crow

no thing shall be a single thing. / Ifan Schallock

The Magician / Mikyle Coleman

Warning Signs / Isabella Mitchell

Love Letters to a Dead Boy / Bo Ferguson

That Other Half / Bo Ferguson

Latest Posts

Popular Tags

Powered by Squarespace