I stepped outside and pulled up my hood. I stared up at the smoggy sky and, sensing rain, started walking hurriedly down the deserted street. I walked quickly, purposefully, without looking backwards, only focusing on the faded red brick pavement. I came to the corner of the main street and flinched as my shoes crunched upon broken glass. I glanced to my right and got a fleeting glance of an old kindergarten. Broken toys and half coloured pictures lay scattered across the floor, covered in a layer of cement and bricks from the crumbling walls. The doors were gone, most probably stolen, and the air held the feeling of lost memories; laughing children, paint covered faces, words of an unfinished fairy-tale. I shook my head fiercely and angrily blinked away the small pool of tears that had formed around my eyes. I had a mission and I was not about to let my emotions lead to failure. I pulled my jacket closer to protect myself from the oncoming acidic rain and started to walk faster.

I walked further and further downtown, becoming aware of the whispers that came from dark corners and black alleys. I kept my head down and quickly brushed my fingers against my waist, making sure my precious spray cans were concealed. If anyone caught a sight of them, they would waste no time in telling the officials, that I knew for sure. The reward for reporting someone was a weeks’ worth of rations. Hunger plagued mankind so viciously; people would kill for as much as a can of baked beans.

A shiver ran through me and I started to run, thinking of anything but the faces of the children lying cold on the sidewalks. I don’t stop running until I reach the bus stop. The bus stop is filled to the seams with poor souls trying to find shelter from the hard downpour of acid rain. I stand in the shadows to avoid being seen and, while trying to calm my unsteady breath, take my time to observe the people around me. I start with their eyes. You can tell a lot about people from their eyes. A happy buoyant, positive person will have big, wide eyes. Their eyes are always bright and through them they see all the colours, energy and beauty of the world. Having these kinds of eyes used to be a gift, now it is a curse. Having these eyes will land you in detention for creativity. The punishment for this was death. People who have experienced trauma and been through hell will have small grey eyes. They use their eyes to conceal their memories and all they see is sadness and monochrome.And finally, people who have given up on life have small dull eyes. These eyes only show them what they need to see to survive and they are ignorant to everything else. It was the people with these eyes that were to blame for the destruction of the world.

The bus slowly crept towards the stop. Buses were extremely rare nowadays as the roads were obliterated and electricity was almost a thing of the past. There was a mad rush as everyone tried to force their way onto the bus. I found myself swept away in the flow of people between an old lady who clutched a rotting chicken and a young man with a cap covering his eyes. I took my place next to the window and leant against the wall to steady myself against the bumps that littered the roads. I caught people staring at me, and quickly pulled my hood forward to hide my eyes. The bus lurched and we began to crawl across the town.

I stared out the window at the bleak landscape that I called home. The world had not seen sunshine for over 2 years because of the immense amount of smog and pollution that covered the sky. The trees were dead and hung limply, slowly dying. There were no birds or butterflies, no giggling children or lovers holding each other’s hands, oblivious to the on-going world. We passed the sea, not that anyone called it that anymore. The sea had been turned into a great mass of thick, black, slop that smelled of dead fish and forgotten dreams. There were big yellow signs warning people against the sea. One step in there and the pollution would eat your skin and bones, causing infection and death in 24 hours. The sea was a popular place for mass suicide. Suddenly, a fight aroused between the two men next to me. The one man accused the other of stealing his ration tickets. After swearing and spluttering petty threats, the man threw his fist in the face of the accused. The accused man came falling towards me. I played the scene in slow motion, knowing that there was no possible way I could move out the way fast enough. Then, I felt a strong arm around my waist pull me backwards. Looking up, I saw the young man with the cap over his eyes. I stared at his face and saw big blue eyes. I saw hope, determination and fear. Through his eyes I saw how much he wanted to see green again, how he wished he could swim in rivers and spot shapes in the clouds. I saw how much he was scared to die. He smiled and put a finger do his lips, quietly shushing me. I clucked my tongue and bit my lip to escape the scream of frustration and sadness that wanted to escape. When the bus stopped, I ran out, not looking back, erasing the existence of the boy with my eyes.

The rain had stopped, and the streets were becoming slightly busy again. I lost myself and my thoughts in the crowds. Watching as people threw their trash on the floor and stood on their cigarettes, I realised that nothing was ever going to change. People were just too ignorant and naïve. I reminded myself that when people are afraid of something they tend to make the issue smaller than it actually is, thereby making the matter not so pressing. That was how the Earth had come to the state that she was in. We just wanted more and more, but we never thought of the consequences. We lived in comfort, surrounded by technology and riches. But at what price? Who paid for our greed? When the idea of global warming first came up it was ridiculed and laughed at. Why should we sorry about such a thing that was so significantly small and unharmful. Why should we change? Soon, the evidence that we could not keep living the way we were was apparent. Yet, the people who could help make a change were kept locked up, kept quiet. The leaders of mankind decided that, for their generation, life would be fine. The next generation would have the responsibility of cleaning up the mess. And now we were scavenging the sewers for our next meal, fighting over rags and sleeping on the floor. We dad become the very people we despised.I suddenly stopped at a large wall in the middle of a town square. I sat against the wall, closed my eyes and sighed. I had reached my destination; I would just have to wait until it was dark to carry out my plan.

As the sun began to set and the square became deserted, I stood up and stretched. I removed my jacket and tied the wisps of hair from my face. I gently removed the spray cans from my waist pocket and set them on the ground. Then, silently and slowly, I began to colour the wall. I coloured the wall with memories. Memories of grassy hills, of white snow and cherry blossoms. I coloured the wall with memories of love, laughter and compassion. I coloured the wall with ways to change, with colours that said change is not something to be feared, it is something to be excited about. As I coloured, I cried. I cried for the millions of people that were lying dead under the ground. I cried for the Earth and the damage that had been done to her. I cried for all the compassion and love that humans had lost. I cried for the boy with the big blue eyes. I cried for the old lady with the rotten chicken. And, when I had done crying for humanity, I cried for myself. For the family and love I had lost. For the beautiful world that I had lived and would have given up my life for.

The sun began to rise and I picked up my empty spray cans, finally happy with the work I had produced. As I ran away from the square and the wall, I hoped that maybe, those colours would change someone. Maybe not everyone would look at that wall and feel determined to make a change, but I had faith in humanity. I had faith because even though there were still so many people who were destroying the earth and were ignorant to their actions, there were people who were in the backgrounds trying to change. Like the boy with the blue eyes and the old lady with the rotten chicken. As the sun rose higher and shone upon my colours, I couldn't help but smile to myself. A new day, a new change, a new start, a new hope.