I am hungry. Starving. Cold. I have looked everywhere for food, but there is none to be found. I am weak, feeble, and despite my youth, I feel old.
I remember how wonderful life was before. How I would mercilessly tear little dinosaurs apart despite their cries, and eat them up, not having to worry about anything. How the blood used to dribble down my chin and I would roar fiercely, my roar echoing through the jungle, and calling out, how great am I, the mighty dinosaur, T-Rex.
I remember how my friends and I used to mock the older members of our clan, when they could not capture anything to eat. We used to laugh, and then throw rocks on them, tauntingly. We used to call them names like old wrinkly, weakling and baby. They used to try their best to ignore us, and shout at us, but I could see the hurt in their eyes. I feel guilty. Now I am just like them, the same.
How beautiful things were then. The green trees, bearing different fruits, the billions of dinosaurs everywhere, of all sizes and colors. Some the size of chickens, others horned, and others flying. Everywhere you looked there were colors, joyous, happy colors. The shimmering lakes were filled with dinosaurs, drinking water and little ones playing and frolicking around, until me and my friends come, roaring and scaring them all off. What fun that was, the cool, blue lake all to ourselves. We were the kings then. The leaders, the masters and the mighty!
But then, suddenly, something happened. The trees lost their leaves, the ponds and lakes became frozen, and the world was covered with a sheet of ice. At first I thought, so what. Its just going to be a little colder, that’s all. We will still be the kings; everything will be the same.
But then, the dinosaurs started dying. First the herbivores, and then slowly the carnivores began dying. One by one, and then there was nothing left.
Now as I look at the bones of the previous ‘kings’ I wonder, why were we so proud. Why did we think of ourselves as so great, when one day we would die?
All of my family members have died. Gone, nothing left of them, but their bones. I am going to be next. I am going to be nothing. Nothing. I whisper the word, hearing the echoes, all around me. Nothing, nothing, nothing… I feel like crying, but it’s no use. What’s destined to happen will happen.
This is not how I imagined my end to be, alone, shivering with cold, in a cave, waiting to die…