Left Behind

• Cristina Curcio, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2015

The bushes which once had flowers blossoming from their hands, have wilted and withered away. All that remains are tiny dull fragments of the petal, scattered above the dry, decimated soil. There is an unsatisfying crunch that will remain in my mind for a long time, as I walked across the deserted land. I hadn’t walked much further when my eyes fell upon a madly intricately weaved web. Crafted for the security of family and home. The white strands, so fluffy and crisp. I followed its long arms across the span of a crumpled leaf, and became fixated on a black bee, caught in the labyrinth. In its tremendous struggle, I felt my heart chanting for the insect to escape and find the lost freedom. He pulled, tugged, stretched. He clung, fluttered and flailed. With no other to help his release, his attempts became futile. I looked down at my own hand which clenched the naked tree branch, cast in the shadow of the forgotten. I glanced back at the scrambling bee. I walked away.