I have to believe humanity will survive this, and that someone will read this note, eventually. You. You’re reading this, aren’t you? Hello you, my dear reader. Let’s pretend you’re here with me as I’m writing this. Please. I don’t want to die alone.
What a mess, huh? I wonder who’s responsible. Maybe it was us? A biological weapon, perhaps? Or was it Mother Nature? I bet it was her. I bet she got sick of us ungrateful humans mutilating her beautiful creation.
I first felt the roots a couple of days ago. It sort of tickled, but from the inside, you know? Can you know? It’s hard to describe. They’ve grown so big since then. It’s a strange thing, seeing roots grow underneath your skin. Soon there’ll be a trunk, branches, leaves… The tree will grow, and grow, and then I’ll burst. I’ve seen it happen. It’s painful.
My plan was to end it on my own terms. I had a gun, but I dropped it. My body’s so stiff, I couldn’t pick it up.
It hurts too much to write. I’m sorry, I have no more words for you to read. Will you stay with me anyway? Please?
Thanks for reading!
Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction – October 23rd 2016
For more stories based on this prompt, go to the linkup.