Change and the Unknown

White and Green

The walls were white; 5 inch square ceramic tiles. One side of the room, the left side, reflected the sharp and clinical white light. Stretched across the white ceramic tile walls like veins were tree roots, coated with green filaments. 

Zooming out, the whole room was dominated by greenery; greenery overflowing over plant pots; greenery overflowing to surrounding tables; greenery spilling in varying sizes to the ground.

You heard a sound. A quick, soft and sweet sound. The innocence of the sound tug at your heart strings; where did it come from? Your ears chased the sweet sound to its origin. At the centre of the room stood a tall and proud tree; bursting with branches and coated with green veins. You slowly danced around the right side of the tree, only to discover a woman; her skin was pale; her hair short and brown; her coat was fading burgundy. Her face was hidden in her small hands, leaking muffled cries. This was strange; her sadness was incongruous to the juxtapositional marriage of the clinical white and the thriving greenery. This was really strange.

You calmly approached her. "Bitch why are you crying?" You whispered. She pointed to the top of the tree; a pale baby was entangled between veiny roots and branches, screaming and screeching for help. A long green stretch of rope circled around the baby; You focused your vision; that is a snake! Wait, that's just a tree branch. You double checked. Triple checked. You should leave, you tell yourself, this is not my problem. But each muffled cry from the woman chipped away your will to say no.  To save face and play hero, you conclude that no snake is present on this proud tree; it was the light playing tricks on the mind's eye.

Cautiously, you scaled the tree, pulled the baby tightly across your chest with one arm, and descended to the ground. In each descend you are alert of any serpentine villains lurking by. In each descent the mother came out of her shell, exhilaration building up.  You reach the ground. You saved the baby. You are a hero.

Immediately the mother ran to to you; her face was pretty and large, her eyes watery green from the tears which flooded her slim cheeks. She thanked you, hugged you, praised you.

As you turn your face back towards the tree, you froze. You stare in horror as a thick green snake hung three inches from you face. It bared its long, wet white fangs, and quicker than the blink of an eye, it launches towards your face.