The Fox and The Forest (EDITING)

The Purifiers(1.0)

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The Lake District was once a haven for all manner of things; humans, nature and inspiration...

There was never a single moment in time in which the humans had poisoned the water. 

Very much a liquid gold in present, water used to be chucked away, carelessly like the business men of old with their paper thin money or the spoiled rich kids, who'd puke up the average man's monthly salary in one glittering blurred evening. 

Blood dripped from the eye sockets of 1st world people as they became blind zombies of the media. Bewitching adverts made us bring our hands to our own necks, threatening death if we couldn't have what we wanted. 

And that was only the beginning.

When man finally destroyed the forests the world went wickedly sour. With no pure liquid kept safe by the kind roots of the plants, harmful toxic water vapour was dragged up into the air by the atmosphere in desperation.

 H2O? Torn to pieces. We ripped apart a substance that was fluid, that shouldn't have been able to break. 

Water never stopped running from us, reader.

Writers stopped writing with their inspiration shriveled to dust. Beatrix Potter never finished Peter Rabbit's Tale. And, like Beatrix's inspiration, expression fell too. People focused inwards. With no good reason to look out at their dying world.

However, less developed countries suffered the most. After dehydration had finished grating throats and making tectonic plates of skin, Cholera heaved out every last drop of stinging liquid that was left behind. Eventually Death showed a little pity and rescued them. 

If the people had survived the diseases, neighbouring countries would offer them a place of safety, providing they agreed to work for them - details were to be specified later.

Following the water was the oxygen next. Factories coughed up dust balls like mangy cats - choking on their own substance. Oxygen tanks were introduced and the government finally banned all nature, saying that the human race should be punished and taught to value once again.

Of course, the only way for them to earn the forgiveness of mother earth would to be to work- to try and coexist with her. Or her spirit anyway. There was barely any nature left at all. 

And so, the word Purifier was given to the people in The District of Lakes in England who had survived the collapse, and would work not only to purify the water, but themselves as well.

*

Mould. Rotting leftovers. Sharp leather.

Kate could smell it all as she found herself running once again. This time from her mother. Before she could reach the top stairs wires protruded from her cheeks like a needle piercing holes in her skin. Useless breaths turned to rapid panting.

"Kate. Come back! I didn't know they'd hurt you," her mother called in desperation.

Drifting in and out of consciousness like a seasick sailor, Kate wedged the door of her bedroom shut with a chair. 

Steadying herself on the wooden frame of her mirror, she recoiled at the site of her face. 

The skin around her eyes was orange in colour and it was spreading down to her nose, accompanied by a burning sensation. As she brought her hands up to her face to scratch it off the orange seeped onto her fingertips like paint. The door moved under pressure from her mother on the other side of the room. 

A breathing door noticed Kate incredulously. Then the contents of the room seemed to run away from her. Kate's limps snapped, so she fell to the floor.