Blind Spots

The wind whistled from beneath the tree, as the squirrels had a conversation in the corner. They started to approach the tree, but only caused red-orange leaves fall swiftly to the forest floor. With the leaves fell an axe and, in an instant, the squirrels no longer made a sound. In another, the tree was no more. Then the next tree, then the next, then the next, until almost as suddenly as the wind, the forest was gone and all that remained was the dusty autumn leaves that coated the ground thoroughly, in a maze a red and gold.

These were not average axes; they were bulky machines with axes swinging around the bottom, cutting trees off from below their stumps so barely a layer could be seen. No word could stop the axes, nor could it the pain of the animals. No one, no thousand, no million words could stop the agony of billions as the world turned slowly to dust. Forest after forest, ocean after ocean, island after island. Everything beautiful about the world had been replaced with the emptiness that now contained the universe.

After the axes came the gas. The animals that lived through the axes had then wished they had died, as axes would’ve been a less painful way to die. The gas sprayed the once beautiful forest until not a single squirrel, nor leaf remained. It was empty, save the dirt on the ground and the wind in the sky. Neither was to last very long.

Last in the line of torture devices came the truck filled with an indescribable liquid. It was transparent, but you could somehow see it. It was thick, but somehow it cascaded down the truck path as smoothly as silk. It appeared to be squishy, but within seconds, it was hard as rock. If it had been tan, it would have been cement, but it was not. It was new to the world. Newly invented, and yet, already a weapon of mass destruction toward the forests that longer coated the Earth. The world turned in instants from a natural place to a shiny wasteland. Oceans, forests, and mountains were all plowed over. Life was depleting with them.

Humans who chose not to go up in the air on blimps, airplanes, and hot air balloons were killed as quickly as the squirrels, which no one bothered to save.

A single day after the renovations began, the blimps landed and the people flooded to their new homes. Many were surprised at the sheer magnitude of the daylong project that had been in debate for nearly centuries.

The man whose idea it was in the first place sat in the highest axe-dozer. He laughed as he stroked his newly-trimmed goatee and hummed a devilish tune. He was bordering on seventy and as powerful as ever. His grandfather’s grand plan had finally set into action, with him in the seat of power controlling everything. He looked to the sky, full of blimps, and whispered three short words.

"We did it."