He will erupt, unleashing his harrowing horrors and inflicting eternal suffering on those he clutches with his atrocious poison of unforgiving lava and murderous hellfire.
He rumbled once. He rumbled twice. This was his final warning to the vulnerable, mere mortals creating homes on his territory. He grunted with displeasure at the hammers hacking away at his sturdy roots, the nails poking unwelcome holes through his immaculately egregious flesh of soil and rock.
He shook the ground beneath him as the oblivious people stomped their feet and drove their heavy engines on his barren stretch of land. They dismissed his gradually growing rampage ready to bring their achievements to ruin in just a single eruption.
How dare they mock him so?
He waited patiently for the perfect moment to spew his wrath, and the opportunity had granted itself when his territory was infested with people beyond his capacity to maintain and provide grudging hospitality to. On the darkest night of the year, when the silent whispers of the wind traveled across every home built at the volcanic base, and the crickets had quietened themselves in fear of triggering the volcano’s ruthless roars of rage.
He opened his mouth at the peak of his form, and like a fire-breathing dragon, he unleashed the biggest nightmare of all — Condemnation of an Agonising Death. The lava traveled down his profound height as he roared, unfathomably hot and fatal to the touch. The small-town folk had woken up, and screams of sheer trepidation echoed across the yards of space they occupied. They tried to run as fast as their legs could carry them, but it was too late to save them now.
Nothing could stop their fate.
He rumbled and shouted again, releasing more lava down to the humans who had occupied his space as though it were their own, and he flushed them all away in the process.
All except one tiny, frail, and susceptible person — the only individual in the town built below him who the volcano respected and had an unspoken appreciation towards. It was entirely mutual. This young boy, for years now, has been planting flowers of every colour on his soil, scrumptious fruits and vegetables, and taking care of the soil with such a gentle and patient touch, unlike every other person in his town. The boy took care of the volcano, initiated, and executed acts of kindness, and in return, the volcano took care of him and saved his life.
The Vengeful Volcano was not heartless, but when push came to shove, he had to finally prioritise himself. He’d given a warning to the townsfolk multiple times, and they did not listen. They treated him as though he belonged to them when he truly belonged to no one but a Mighty God in the heavens above. They hurt his soil, shredded his land, and eliminated natural resources he nurtured.
People often forget to respect those who are not human — they sometimes don’t even respect their own kind. But, just because something cannot speak, means you can walk all over it and make decisions on its behalf. A volcano is not a living being, but it is part of nature, and nature is alive. Respect what is around you, and respect its space and boundaries.
We do not exist by ourselves. We co-exist with infinite organisms, so it’s time we express our respect to be respected.