A quiet breeze as soft as a babies breath swept past the small girls tiny frame, ever so gently caressing her face with a loving, mother like touch. The wind wrapped around the girls body singing a sweet lullaby into her ear and playfully tossing her curly, golden ringlets. The wind carried through the meadow of milk weed and thistle, the gentle breeze never ripping a velvet smooth petal off any of the gorgeous, glistening flowers occupying the crowded field. Beautifully ornate butterflies fluttered into the field of auspicious wheat and flourishing flowers. A particularly colorful butterfly lazily made its way over to the little girl, her bright sundress weaving through her legs with the actuating breeze. The butterfly’s glowing turquoise wings and midnight black body landed onto the girls outstretched hand, tickling the palm of her petite hand. Suddenly the wind picked up its’ pace and started to violently tear through the field of milk weed and thistle. The little girl watched in shock as the pretty butterfly in her hand convulsed and shriveled and folded into itself and turned into dark ash, looking as if someone had dumped an ashtray into her hand. Before she could even let out a cry of horror the wild wind grabbed the ashes of the once beautiful butterfly and let them scatter across the quickly disappearing field. The beautiful, flourishing flowers were no longer sending their sweet, succulent scent into the now freezing air, and the milk weed and thistle were being whipped around in the darkening sky letting out a silent but obvious cry for help. Angry black clouds made their appearance known and the girl felt hard pellets of ice and rain hit her body from all directions. The girl let out a piercing scream, only to have it sucked into the chilling air. She turned around to run back to where she came from, back to civilization, but her path back home was blocked by hundreds of fallen trees, the ones still crashing making a deafening sound ring in her ears and causing the ground under her to shake with poisonous vengeance. Just as things were reaching a dangerous peak, everything stopped. Not a sound rang out into the dark and silent afternoon, not a chirp from a bird or the sound of the storm receding, just silence. The small girl looked for someone, something, anything to assure her that this was all a dream, that what she just witnessed was her mind playing tricks on her, but the little girl was painfully aware of one thing, this was all real. Heartbroken and confused, the small girl sat down on the mutilated milk weed and thistle plants and took in a shaky breath, ever so slowly filling her lungs with the sad, weeping air that was desperately screaming for sunlight to wrap around it like a warm blanket on a cold, snowy night. The now sobbing girl wrapped her arms around her shaking legs and stared at the result of the disaster that had taken place, and the horrible truth that was global warming.