End Station
A clear glass bottle, freshly tossed into a sparkling river, caught the sunlight and glimmered like a tiny jewel. It floated gently along the water’s surface, bobbing and spinning as the river carried it forward. Around it, lush green trees bowed over the banks, their leaves whispering in the breeze. Dragonflies danced above the water, and curious fish swam beneath the drifting bottle. The river wound through colorful meadows where wildflowers stretched their faces toward the sun. Birds swooped overhead, singing songs of freedom and endless skies. As the bottle floated on, it passed quiet villages where children laughed and waved from the shore. The river grew wider, its currents stronger, pulling the bottle ever faster into unknown lands. Gradually, the water darkened, and trash began to cluster along the edges. The bottle bumped against broken plastic, crumpled cans, and tattered pieces of fabric. Soon, the river lost its shimmer, and a foul smell replaced the fresh scent of water and earth. The glass bottle was finally swept into a vast, grim landfill, a mountain of humanity's waste. It lay there among millions of forgotten things, no longer shining, no longer beautiful. What once journeyed through a paradise now sat buried in a monument to neglect. From its silent resting place, the bottle seemed to whisper a warning: if we do not cherish and protect our natural world, it too will be lost to the careless tides of our own making.