New Beginnings

By Dylan Reddy

Have you ever imagined a world that is completely pure, without pain nor fighting? If you come from the same world as I, most likely you have not. You might believe that there could be no such thing. But I know differently.

In the front yard of a one story, two bedroom house, there is a garden. Weeds and wildflowers sprout from the unkempt ground, their roots sprawling through the soil with not a single care. In between these roots live tiny insects who share bark with their neighbors and exchange stories from one family to the other. Their dark tunnels are dug together, the labor distributed by ability. No one bug does more than they can handle.

The entire kingdom joins together each evening for dinner around a long winding table. They sit as one large family; any and all species have a place. The table is lengthened if needed, but no living being may sit at the ends of the tables. Those seats are reserved for their lost loved ones. The living mourn for those dead insects, but they don’t dwell. In the Insect Kingdom, there’s just no reason to. Not when they love and understand as a whole.

These tiny animals live in harmony with one another, and today is no different. The insect subjects of the kingdom gather round, watching as Queen Worm and King Rollie-Pollie stand high on their soil stage. They look over the animals of Insect Kingdom, each and every bug in the room valued for simply being. Together the two of them address the room. These bugs have a silent language of their own, but I will try my hardest to translate.

“Insects! Please! If we could have your attention!” Queen Worm says to the crowd.

Silence falls over the audience, anticipation burning through their bodies. Community wide meetings only happen when exciting news is brought upon the Kingdom, so the group is braced for the best.

The King, who does not wear a crown of jewels or dons any robes, speaks up first, “I’m sorry to say that this meeting is not a cause for celebration,” He pauses, trying his hardest to keep calm for his bugs, “Today, we find ourselves under a new ownership.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd as each insect consumes the shock. It has been many generations since the last ownership’s presence, and many believed that there would likely never be another. But here they were, a new Occupier watching over them.

That is what they call me: Occupier. The crowd spits it out at each other, and I can feel the youngest among them shuffle closer to their parents, but even they are afraid. I certainly do not want to be this “Occupier” they seem so scared of. I thought about leaving the itty bitty bugs alone, but before I could pull myself away the mass began to speak.

The Centipedes were first, their heads popping above the crowd, “Has the Occupier revealed themself? Or have we only observed the surface above for proof?” These animals, although good and trusting, are known to doubt the world outside of Insect Kingdom. That isn’t their fault. How could you trust something you do not know? Most of the adults have never seen anywhere but their peaceful home, let alone the children. So they question the ones who have.

Queen Worm and King Rollie-Pollie exchange a knowing look. There have been

many Kings and Queens since the last ownership, but they knew that I was there watching.

Queen Worm addresses the crumbling audience in front of them, “We know that the last reign was destructive. My annelids were put to work as fertilizers, the beetles and ants were forced into exhausting labor, and our butterflies were rarely afforded the opportunity to return home to their families. There were many fatalities.” She takes a breath, allowing the history of their utopia to be remembered, before beginning again.

“We know that since the last ownership has ended, we have prospered together. That is something our ancestors cannot say they had the opportunity to do—and it is why we will continue to build a beautiful world for ourselves, with the Occupier or without.”

The Ladybugs outrage at this, “With? Our dear Queen, how could the Occupier possibly work with us? Their species is terrible, they simply have no understanding of us or our world. They do not care to know our happiness!”

I do not know what to say to this. I wish I could protest, but the truth is that the people from my world can be terrible monsters. They can take gardens and turn them into battlefields. Not only for the animals, but for one another as well. This garden has had years since its last infection, gnarly and pus filled, with the anger of my world. It is wild; its tiny Rollie-Pollie Kings and Worm Queens rule without the input of resentment. But it wasn’t always this way. Naturally, they do not trust that I want the best for their heavenly world.

So I decide, at this moment, that I will rewrite the script. I will not allow my time as Occupier to be contaminated with the well known anger of my world. This garden will blossom and flourish with me. And I will prove myself to the skeptical Centipedes and Ladybugs. Over and over, I will convince them that I am here for the right reasons.

You wonder how in the world I will do that. How can a plain child care for an entire world? Do you really have so little faith in me? Well, doubtful reader, the answer is simple. With time. That’s how.

Over the rest of my life, I plan to tend to its soil with care and understanding. I know that it is not my garden, but its own living, breathing thing. The weeds will be pulled with grief, seeds sowed with hope, and ground watered with intention. The garden hasn’t known a world where there is anything but peace in over a decade, and I intend to keep it that way. In fact, I vow to never hurt it, to only help.

And I can tell, as that vow is carried up and away from me through the air, that the King and Queen can hear it dancing among the grass.

With the scent of my vow still wafting through the oxygen around me, King Rollie-Pollie says one final thing to his bugs, “Perhaps you do not trust us now. That is understandable. But know, sweet insects, that this Occupier has a great capacity to be a new beginning. They may end up a terrible tyrant, but they may also become a benevolent part of our community. We must allow them to come to that conclusion on their own. And it seems to me that they already have.”

As the vow seeps into their world, the insects look up and around. It sparkles through the crowd, the hope, the love, the devotion. It settles among each of the tiny lives in the room, and a calmness overtakes the kingdom. It fizzles away after a moment, but it will never be forgotten.

With a smile, I stand up from the ground, wiping the soil stuck to my cheek away.

There are tiny flowers dotted all around my hair, tucked there absentmindedly while listening to the bugs. My moving overalls are worn from many uses over the years, but today is my final time unboxing my life into a new world. My father wobbles as he  carries a box from the truck into the new house. I laugh a bit as he struggles up the front porch steps, his big work boots making his stomps shake the ground. My mother, who is much like the former Occupiers of Insect Kingdom, is nowhere to be found. It’s just me and him, and of course the bugs. And it is better for it.

As my Dad pushes through the front door, he yells back at me, “A new beginning, Zera! And if you’d like, I can help you with that overgrown garden out front! It’ll be our project for the summer!” He plops the box down on the carpet inside and then hops back out to the driveway to grab another.

“Sure, Dad. That sounds great,” I whisper back. He didn’t hear me, I’m sure of it, but it doesn’t matter. Because my decision has been made. Yes, King Rollie-Pollie was correct. Today is a new beginning.