It had been a remote spot once, far from the city, far from the noise and the lights. A small clearing where mist rolled in the morning, where the sun shone at midday, and where the shooting stars crossed the sky at night. All the things he would have enjoyed but would have been too embarrassed to tell anyone. He had planted a tree at the center, a scrawny thing of a sapling, the kind of thing no one would have believed would survive. Just like him.
Now the trees that had surrounded the clearing were long gone, cut down ages ago for warmth and fuel. The mist no longer appeared at dawn, and the sun was always visible . There were no shooting stars to admire anymore, for the night had ceased to come. For miles and miles, nothing but destruction could be seen. It had taken millennia for it to come this and he had witnessed it all. Unable to live, unwilling to die.
In the end, man hadn't needed Hell or Heaven to destroy itself. It had done it all on its own. He had wept as rivers had dried up. His heart had broken as the soil had died. He had tried to help for a while, like he would have wanted him to, but he was one against billions. Exhausted and defeated, he had given up and chosen to protect the only thing he could, this little patch of land.
This space he had defended, giving up a little bit of his grace to keep the grass growing, to help the tree grow, to preserve the memories of a life that now seemed so far away and pointless. A spark in the dark just long enough to make you remember what light could feel like before disappearing forever. The darkness, unbearable at times, still felt better for having been lit if only for a moment.
He took off his shoes as he reached the lush grass. He barely ever donned his human form anymore, but he knew that it would have pleased him. Plus he liked the feeling of the small green blades on his feet. He mindfully took the few steps that separated him from the tree. The oak was magnificent. A gigantic specimen. The remnant of another age. The only thing alive. The only one left. It cost him a lot to maintain it at the peak of its beauty but it was worth it. It was a noble task.
He sat down in its shade, his back against the trunk. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, allowing rays of sun to caress his face from time to time. It was a gentle touch that shared nothing with the harshness of the sun that baked the surrounding wasteland. That was his doing, too. He felt his heart sink. Such beauty had been ubiquitous once, but more than that, he had shared it with him. He hugged his knees and rested his forehead on them. He sighed.
"The end is coming. I can feel it," he whispered.
He lifted his head and looked at the ground next to him. Surely, there was nothing left but dirt. And yet... Letting go of his knees he patted it gently.
"I'm trying my best to keep this little island alive but I don't know how much longer I can continue. This universe... it's dying. And it's taking everything along, including me."
Extending his hand farther, he leaned on his side, resting his head on his upper arm. He took a deep breath. There were no scents.
"This vessel you loved so much... I wish I could keep it forever, but I will soon have to let it go."
A tear ran over the bridge of his nose. He let it.
"Sometimes I wonder what it was all for. If you were my punishment or my reward..."
He shifted to lie on his back and crossed his arms under his head. He observed the sun playing in the leaves. Some of them had started changing colour. If he didn't move, he could almost imagine that he was back in time. He rested for a while or an eternity; there was no way to tell anymore.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect your precious world."
He sighed.
"Forgive me, Dean."