The Water Is At My Ankles Now: Honorable Mention, Speculative Memoir
Madison Klug is an honorable mention winner for the Climate Change Memoir Contest in the Speculative Memoir category. This story shows a sliver of a future generation child's life where the world has already been ruined by climate change.
By Madison Klug
The water is at my ankles now. For as long as I have been in this world, the ground has always been soaked by our neglect. Dampened by the rise of the sea, my feet have forever skimmed across puddles. It hasn’t rained in what feels like an eternity, but the flooding hasn’t stopped. I am afraid the ground will sink to a depth our feet can no longer reach. I used to walk comfortably, but the water is at my ankles now.
It is getting hard to breathe now. I wish I was born at a time where I could laugh without coughing and run without suffering. I’ve heard tales of looking up and being able to see clearly. Instead of red and orange, the sky would be bright blue. The burning hasn’t stopped. It hops from place to place, and they can never seem to catch it. It reminds me of a game of tag, but the fires keep getting away. It isn’t fair that the fires never run out of breath and that they keep taking mine, using it to their advantage to expand and escape. I wish I could escape from place to place and never get tired. Never be caught. The flames are smoking us out of our homes, and it is getting hard to breathe now.
None of it makes sense right now. I’ve heard tales of a rain forest so big that it was considered the lungs of our world. There were tigers, so ferocious and gracious. There were monkeys, so close and bonded. There were frogs, so small and fragile. So many animals roamed this city. Now, the lungs of this world are shriveled. They’re almost gone. People severed
chunks of the lungs to build what they wanted. People destroyed this home that was never theirs. I never fully understood it, but I know money was a big part of it. It was a big part of all of this. Money doesn't seem as important now. I envy the people before me. They lived with the freedom to breathe. They roamed their cities but did not treat them like the animals did with theirs. I have heard tales of the people before me; They knew what they were doing. They knew about the sea, and the ice, and the heat, and the lungs. They knew the causes, and how to stop, but they never changed. Now people are panicking, and none of it makes sense now.
I hope they can change it now. They knew this was coming eventually, so they must know how to fix it. If they did all of this for a reason, then they must have a plan to take it back, right? I have my first day of school tomorrow, and I have to drag my feet through the water to get there. I hope they know how to dry the ground. I hope they know how to capture the burning. I hope they can change it now.
Edited by Silver Lindberg