LatinosUSA

He runs screaming. His breathing is ragged, and his ears are blocked from his own screaming.

He runs screaming. He runs in the thick of the forest, dodging spruce branches, tripping over stones and roots sticking out of the ground, rolling down huge dunes. And in a huge clearing, he simply falls to the ground, sticks his nose into it, breathes heavily, lies in this state for a very long time, covered in blood… 

The sky opens up red, but it’s not a sunset, and the blood on his body is barely noticeable, as the air itself seems to take on color. The treetops resemble skulls, and the thin, intertwined branches look like the thin hands and claws of a starving man. He runs and doesn’t notice that the birds fall dead, all mangled and torn. The trees look just as dying.

Now he is walking. Fatigue makes itself felt, and it is still unknown what lies ahead: for him and for all of humanity. He walks along a lonely path, and regrets it, because on the roadless road the road seemed much wider than it is now. His bare feet seem very white. Too white. He is like a ghost from the past that is no longer there, and the clouds are floating into the future. He walks slowly forward and is silent, because it is no longer possible to shout.

Probably, that is why the Red Chernobyl Forest seems calm and quiet, like no other, now existing or ever existing.

For more information on the Chernobyl disaster, see:
https://www.iaea.org/newscenter/focus/chernobyl/faqs