Garar's Secret

In a single morning, I came up with a short flash fiction piece, wrote it, and then submitted it to Daily Science Fiction.  It was rejected.  So, what the hey, I figured I would post it here for everyone's enjoyment.  Feel free to comment.  Be brutal or be kind - I can take it.  Thanks for reading.

Garar's Secret

[Image courtesy of Dan via FreeDigitalPhotos.net]

I remember the days when there used to be water everywhere.  There were lakes, rivers, and streams.  We would drink from the trees and play in the river.  The river would flow high enough that I could actually lift my feet from the bottom.  The trees were many then.  You would have been proud to see them.  So tall that they would almost disappear into the sky.  They would reach the clouds and feed the river with sweet, crystal clear, water.  Everyone was so happy back then.  Sometimes, when I look up into the clear sky, I can imagine the white globs of cotton slowly streaming across.  The trees would seem to tug at the puffy whites, drinking the floating moisture, and then pour it out into the rivers and streams.  I could almost see their leaves stretch a little further as a cloud would move past.  They so wanted to drink of the clouds.  I know that you could be like that.  Be able to drink from the clouds. 

It seems so long ago.  Now the clouds are gone.  The Olders refuse to tell me why.  I try to ask them about why the clouds are gone, and why the trees all died.  I'm sorry.  I don't want to make you sad.  It's just that the Olders look down on me and tell me to not dwell on the past.  To only focus on the future.  They point to the night stars and talk about how the fuel will carry us there.  Carry us to where the planets have abundant water.  But, I figured it out.  I know what they did!  The Olders took all the water to make their fuel.  They tell us that our planet is dying and that we need to leave.  I know they made our planet die by taking too much water.  Taking the clouds away.  Making the trees die.  They yell at me, "Garar go away!  Go play in your cave!  Leave us alone and let us work!"

So, I do my own work.  I'll play in my cave.  Deep in my cave, where the Olders cannot find me.  Where the Olders cannot find you.  My tree that I've raised from a tiny seed.  When I found you, you were just a dot on the edge of the dried out river.  I would talk to you after my portion of water. I watched you grow and I gave you a portion of my water.  And now look at you!  Your leaves are so beautiful.  I love how you reach up your leaves when I breathe upon you.

Before long, I will take you to the water.  When the Olders have gone.  They say they cannot take everyone.  So, I will stay with you.  You will soon see the water.  It is deep in the planet, in the caverns.  It is beautiful.  There is so much that it almost floats in the air.  I can smell it when I go there to gather portions for the Olders.  Soon, they will be gone.  I will carry you there and plant you by the water. And you will be able to breathe the water in the air.  I will bring my friends.  I will show them how we can all breathe to you and we will become your cloud.  I understand you.  You need water and planet to grow.  We too need water and planet to live.  You will grow and provide more water.  Your seeds I will take to the surface.  Once the Olders are gone.  Then I can point to the stars in the sky and yell at them, "Olders, go away!  Go play in your stars!  Leave us alone and let us play!"  Yes, my dear tree of water and life.  You will see.


Copyright (c) 2010, Timothy Trimble