Into The Madness Of Mud

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"Into The Madness Of Mud"

by: Wes Robert Ward

It had rained for forty days and forty nights. Yes, it sounds almost biblical and a repeat performance of the story of that famous old man with the beard and a big wooden boat full of animals, but unlike that story this rain was completely different.

It didn't rain droplets of water like we used to see when the clouds turned dark and broke with the wetness that cleansed our world and made our plants and trees grow. No, it didn't rain like that\u2026 it just rained mud.

Imagine if you will that you are outside and you feel like a cool afternoon shower from the sky above after a hot day mowing the grass. You look up and wait for that first wet droplet of water when suddenly instead of that you get a messy drop of mud right on the kisser.

Yes, that was just the beginning. And now the ending, and so after it finally stopped raining mud and many had waited for the sun to shine again we realized it wasn't going to shine like we thought it would, well not yet that is. The sun was like a dim bulb, never to be bright again, or so we believed at this time and moment.

The towns and cities were ruined and all the beauties of nature that once were green and bright with so many colors were now brown. Nothing but brown for miles and miles from one end of the Earth to the other.

People came out of what was left of their shelters. Many drowned in mud, millions died, possibly billions. The ones that survived had to climb through heavy mud to reach a higher area for shelter such as hills, mountains, skyscrapers, you name it.

And yet many of us fought to survive. Many of us died of course, but the ones such as myself fought with every strength in our bodies to not drown in the onslaught of mud.

Oh, what is my name you say? My name is Mud. Who cares what my name is. You might as well call me Nobody. All I have to say is this\u2026 A Wise Man once said, "I once was at Woodstock in the mud, in the mud, man, in the mud."

Well, I climbed a mountain of it, old man, and there was no Jimi Hendrix playing an electric guitar at the top.

And so as I watch the dim-lit sun over the horizon of the mountain of mud that I sit upon near a deformed mud tree with only a handful of survivors around, I finally breath fresh air without tasting mud. A bittersweet victory, but alas a victory no less.

Oh, the sun will shine bright again in time. Maybe not my time, but perhaps my children's time or the children after them. The green grass will sprout again through the mud along with trees and plants. The oceans and lakes and rivers or whatever water byways will turn blue again erasing the brown color inside.

And animals, even though many went extinct, there are many who were smarter and fought harder than many humans have done. Amazingly I saw a Cow, a brown Cow!!! What now, brown Cow? If a Cow can survive then we all have a chance.

So now is the ending with mud in your eye, to be in the mud or under the mud that is the question. And let me finish on this little interesting note, if one day you see a mud hole before you please be very careful how you trudge across it because before you know it, you'll be drowning in it.

The End. \ud83d\udca9

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