It was a crisp morning. It was misty. She had dew on her cheeks. The first ray of light was penetrating through the branches, through the fog, through her hair. She turned her face towards the light. Her eyes still shot.
The cricket was giving his voice to the morning bird and the pale moon was giving her night to the sun. Little by little her body was warming up. She inhaled the fresh air. The air traveled through her body, feeding every single cell. The cells were exhilarated by the fusion of aromas in the air: damp grass, wild flowers, soil and earth. She opened her eyes in infinite bliss.
Another gorgeous morning. She thought about all those beautiful mornings that she had waken up to. Thousands of them and each time she had thought that morning was more beautiful than all the others!
She spread her arms around and felt the grass under her bare feet. She loved the feeling, as always. Another inhale and another rejuvenating feeling. She just loved the feeling of being alive.
She had no plans for this morning except for giving love to everything and everyone around her. She was grown up with love, giving love to others was so natural to her, it was spontaneous.
As she was quietly singing and dancing with the morning breeze, she heard a sound coming from distance. The sound was getting closer and louder. She had no idea what it was. Then suddenly the source of the sound appeared; it was the Machine!
The bird stopped singing, the breeze stopped blowing, but she continued whispering and dancing. It was her first time seeing the Machine. The Machine stopped in front of her and went quiet. She smiled and asked the breeze to play her instrument again, but no response came from the breeze. She turned to the Machine as a squeaking sound came from it. The Robot jumped out. A short creature compared to her height. She was very tall afterall. He was short with a hard head and two icy rectangular bump-outs on his face, probably his eyes, she thought.
She looked down to see what Robot was carrying. It was a shiny object with hundreds of teeth. The Robot looked up to her. She smiled. He did not. The Machine made a sound, grabbed the Robot and brought him up to her shoulders level. The Robot touched the little mushroom on his shiny object and suddently there was a roaring sound. She got scared. The teeth were moving so fast that she could only see a blur around the shiny object. She thought it was just like the hemming bird that flies around her every day and she could not see her wings, only a halo around her body. She tried to look into his eyes but could not find them, only the reflection of her beautiful face on those rectangular bump-outs.
Suddenly the Robot attacked her, it happened so fast that she could not even react. As the teeth were penetrating her flesh, her blood sprang out of her skin just like a new spring breaking the surface of the earth.
She hold her breath, hoping it was just a nightmare, hoping she was still asleep, hoping the crisp morning had never started, hoping... she felt dizzy. She tried to scream but her delicate voice was lost in the roar of the teeth. The last thing she saw was the sunshine, passing through the branches, passing through the leaves, caressing her pale face as she passed out.
The Robot did not stop. He did not know love. He did not know joy. He continued and continued and continued...
It was another crisp morning:
Everything was the same,
except she wasn't there
and the bird was missing her,
and the breeze blew her leaves...
