Deep in the forest among the towering redwoods, is a village. The village is constructed from discarded items, cans, clothing, radios, boxes, wheels, and any other usable item that people deemed as trash.
Discarded produce is ground up and used as the richest compost to grow the largest and freshest fruits and vegetables anyone has ever laid eyes on, but only one or two people have ever laid eyes on them. The sewing, reaping and looking belong to the growers of the produce. The ones that find a useful purpose for discarded things are small ancient creatures. Continue reading
“I remember the day you were born,” I said into the walkie-talkie, “I held you in my arms and thought you were the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. You hardly cried and at five weeks old, you slept through the night.”
My voice breaks from the pang of the memory. I release the talk button. Oh God, please protect my son! My head falls to the table as all of my panic rips through my chest. My baby has been gone for more than 12 hours. He must be so scared. My overwhelming feeling of helplessness makes it hard to breathe. I take a drink of water to clear my voice and then I continue. Continue reading