After I Died

For this short story, we had to write from the point of view of something that normally doesn’t get a voice, whether it’s inanimate (like a tree) or not (like a dog). I chose to write from the perspective of dinosaur bones buried deep in the earth, commenting on the rise and fall of civilizations and humanity. I actually kind of like my story, if only for the fact that it’s about dinosaurs. I like dinosaurs.

            I am old. So old. I have seen civilizations come and go, wars fought, and cities born. I have seen it all from where I lay, in my home of earth. It surrounds me, always. Since the moment I died and began my new life—if you can call it that—I have lain in this very spot, never moving.

            Before this new existence, I was the fiercest of all creatures, I was the best, I was the alpha. I was a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I guess I still am, without skin and muscle, just bones.

            I used to have friends. Many friends. Now I am just me, alone. Forever. All my friends died. New creatures came to take their place. First they were furry, and gradually, they lost their hair, and built over my resting place. I have seen men evolve. I have seen a new species born. I have seen it all.

            Before I came to rest here, I was alive. So alive. I was running through the forests with my family. My brother, my mother, my father. How I miss them. I do not know where they lay now. I hope it is somewhere nice. I hope they are happy. We used to run, run so fast. I would race my brother. He was faster, but he never showed off. Sometimes he let me win. I liked that.

            One time, we chased a pterodactyl. It was just for fun. We weren’t hungry. We already ate. He kept hiding in the treetops. But we were tall. So tall. We could see the leaves move when he beat his wings.

            “I found him!” I shouted.

            “Be quiet!” my brother hissed. “It will know we’re here now.”

            Sure enough, the pterodactyl swooped out of the tree. It scraped the top of my brother’s head. Then it flew away, back to its own family.

            “Owww!” my brother shrieked. He was loud enough to make all the small creatures scurry back into their burrows and shelter from this incredible, hulking monster.

            “Hold still! I need to look at it,” I told him. He calmed down. I examined it. It wasn’t very deep. He was being a baby. But I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to fix it.

            I washed the cut off and cared for it. Soon, we were ready to go home, back to my mother and father. All my brother said was a quiet thank you. But I knew he meant more. I think he knew it too. He knew that I would always be there for him.

            But now I am not, and it is killing me all over again.

            That day seems eons away from this moment. I want to go back to it. I want to see my family. I want to be alive again. But I can’t. I am dead. Dead and buried. I am stuck here, made to relive my memories over and over yet again.

 I am no longer the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex. I am just a pile of bones, deep underground. I will see your civilization come and go, and more after it. And through it all, I will remain here. Forever.