This is my native land, for I am a creature of peace.
There is no war here. No hate. No despair.
No mankind.
Sometimes I miss them. They lived quickly, always.
Always rushing about, as if the world was ending.
And perhaps it was.
They created war, but they also created art. They created love.
And they created me, to protect their valley when they left.
And here I walk.
I am unable to laugh, but my eyes crinkle when a gecko climbs in my fur and tickles me.
I am unable to smile, but I feel like I can when I see a young doe in the woods.
I am unable to taste, but some part of me knows that the valley's trees bear delicious fruit.
It is a satisfying life, if lonely.
A life that has continued for eons.
But what is this? A man, here? Who is this wanderer?
Hopefully he will leave. Hopefully, I intimidate this boy.
But now I see his eyes. His mouth. How he carries himself.
And I know. His mouth is a hard line. His eyes are diamonds: beautiful, cold, hard.
His body is set. He is prepared to do whatever he must.
And I know he has come to kill me.
I try to escape him, but he has trapped me against a mountain. He overtakes me.
I try to end his life quickly and mercifully, but he is faster than me.
He ducks through my legs. I feel the familiar tickle: someone is climbing on my leg hair.
It is not pleasing. And, suddenly, I feel a searing pain in my calf.
Tears would spring to my eyes, if I was able to shed them. It is agony that I am feeling.
I drop to my knee, and the boy takes advandage of it.
I feel him on my back, and try to shake him loose, like a flea.
And then he is on my head, and I can see him almost eye to eye.
And I know what he is about to do. My God, it hurts. The sword in my head.
This pain knows no boundaries. It makes me shudder. It makes me shake.
It makes me ask, why? Why? What have I done? I wish I could cry. I wish this human would leave.
He doesn't.
Again, and again, and again, he raises his sword and shoves it into my head.
This wanderer is crying with me now. Why would he do this?
At last, my knees are too weak. Knees that have carried me for millenia, are finally tired.
I slowly sink. The ground shakes as my massive frame collapses. The boy falls off, gets out of the way.
I feel my conciousness fading. Eons of life, and this is the closing chapter?
My vision dims. It was never sharp to begin with, but it had always been enough.
Enough to see the beauty of the world. Enough to see the horror of it.
And as my eyes close and turn to stone, I see the doe again.
It is beautiful. And for it, I shed one tear. One droplet. The first and last of my life.
And all is dark.