A beautiful, summer night. The sun is drawing towards the earth, creating an orange glow with specs of purple that casts it’s colour across the trees. The air is still warm, but a slight chill is enough to have wonder whether or not an additional layer could be worn. The sound of waves colliding with the sandy shore creates a natural metronome, a pace controlled by that of Mother Nature. Birds are the ones who contribute their beautiful melodies to this perfect sunset. I final salute towards the Sun, as the Moon begins to creep into the sky.

But on this particular night, no amount of serenity could protect the trees from the current act taking place. His name is Ryan, and he is the worst kind of human there is. In his lifted, black Dodge Ram, he races into the beach parking lot, screeching to a halt where he has stopped and occupied 3 parking spots at once. He climbs out of his vehicle, with Five Finger Death Punch still roaring through his truck’s stereo. He steps down, sporting his faded, bell bottom jeans, his Black Affliction shirt (complete with the shiny logo), his favourite Bass Pro Camo Hat, and his signature Pit Vipers. Empty Lucky Lager cans follow and clink on the pavement. Three to be exact. The fourth is currently half empty, gripped tightly in his left hand, and the two remaining dangle on the plastic rings dangling from that same hand. Ryan quickly goes to the back of his truck and opens the tailgate. He quickly extracts a jerry can that is still about half full, and makes his way towards the beach. He’s drunk, and like he typically tends to do, thinks that the world is his playground, and will go along with whatever plan he decides. This time, he wants to have a fire. It’s been a dry 2 months, and he’s tired of hearing about how the fire ban has been extended yet again. He moved here to have the freedom to have fires whenever he wants, and this time, he won’t let any park ranger tell him otherwise. Aside from a few straggling tourists, the beach is empty. Of course it is. It’s September and the summer has faded away. Perfect.

As he descends down the dunes, he notices a handful of crows gathered along the shore, eating whatever creatures will fill their bellies. Ryan grabs a rock nearby and launches it in their vicinity. The crows sense this act of aggression and quickly disperse. With the final chug of his current beer, Ryan lets out an enormous belch that fills the air. The can is then crushed and tossed on the ground to soon be forgotten and covered with sand. It will be found in two weeks by a father and daughter testing out a newly purchased metal detector. A false find and the disappoint of a young, aspiring treasure hunter.

Ryan removes another beer from the plastic ring and cracks it open. Foam rushes out the top and trickles down the side and onto the sand. It gets absorbed into the earth as it is mistaken for water. Another unfortunate event. Ryan scans the beach and settles on a section close to the tree line. Without hesitation, he removes the cover on his jerry can and begins dousing the old driftwood with the remaining gasoline. In less than a minute, the entire area is covered and glistening, with a pungent smell that causes every living creature close by to scurry. Ryan chugs half of his his current beer and then steps back. He reaches into his pocket and removes a lighter and half a cigarette. Placed in his mouth, he lights the cigarette and draws in the nicotine. He holds his breath, and then slowly exhales smoke from his nose. He looks down at the logs and feels nothing but rage. Much like the world, he wants to see it burn. And with that, he tosses his lit cigarette towards the pile of driftwood.

A tragic, summer night. The Sun has retreated below the skyline in disappoint, as a burst of orange takes over darkness and quickly spreads to the nearby, dried out trees. No longer cool, the air is scorching hot, consuming the surrounding oxygen, and filling the sky with smoke that is lost in the night sky, but can still be seen. The sound of waves colliding with the sandy shore have been silenced by the raging fire that has consumed the entire area of driftwood and soon to be dead trees. The crackling sounds of the fire are really made by the trees as they make their final cry for help before collapsing towards the earth. Mother Nature has been hurt. The birds panic as they realize their home is being destroyed. Not sure what to do, they watch from a distance as more trees go up in flames. The Moon hangs low, as it senses defeat. Unsure of what will come, but certain The Sun will return to a much different, and tragic place.

Ryan finishes his beer and tosses the empty can and plastic ring into the ocean. He walks back to his truck and drives home. Soon he will be passed out, drunk. Tomorrow he will awake and read on the news of another wildfire taking place. He will curse the hippies for trying to save the Earth, and make fun of anyone who thinks that Global Warming is real. For in this situation, he will know deep down the cause. But what he will fail to realize is that he is the biggest cause of this problem. Igniting the flame and defeating the Earth when it is most vulnerable. He is the problem, yet will take none of the blame. Another menace to society.