The Quiet Park

By: Athan Wong

As I walk into this lively park, the lush nature circles around me; the tranquillity of the quiet rivers, vivid bursts of the colors of flowers and the marvelous trees that surround it. I prance across the plain, my boots landing on the soft grass, the sounds of birds chirping around me, I feel ever so...

Ecstatic.

Contented.

Delighted.

I pick up my pace, running towards the woods, my mind reeling with happiness and freedom- I feel like flying.

I race across the crooked ebony bridge, across the rotting fence, with a leap and a hop-

My feet get entangled on some nettlesome vines-

And my leaping momentum comes to a stop.

The leaves are darker, damper, lifeless; the noises, the light has been draped by layers of eerie darkness.

I continue to walk down the eerie path- rotten, moldy shards and fractions of plastic litter the floor. They stick like gum to my shoes; seemingly mocking me as I pull my shoes from the mess. I continue my slow movement, avoiding the muck and mulling on this horrendous happening.

What possibly, possibly could have caused this? This sin, this unforgivable action?

I stop in a screech. I turn towards the now murky sky, a big and blotched A sign - what did it say?

Park Landfill

A slow, sheathed part of me starting to boil. As it arises from its eternal slumber, I begin to twitch with irritation and anger.

I can’t believe it.

The park, what once was beautiful-

What had given me joy and happiness and comfort-

Had all boiled down to this!

What is the point of doing this, to destroy beauty?

To hide the ugly underneath a blanket, to casually hide ruin?

Pitiful.

Image: Flickr. (n.d.). Record amounts of trash found in parks [Photograph]. Bkreader. https://www.bkreader.com/2020/08/10/record-amounts-of-trash-cover-prospect-park/