Gaia rose up from the earth, the soil flowing up and channelling itself into her face, her chest and her limbs. One hand, dwarfing the nearby bandstand, reached down to pluck up the small uncapped plastic bottle she found up-ended in the flower bed, raising it up before the two beds of blue salvia fashioning themselves into her eyes. “A botanical miracle,” she raged. “In a bottle of shampoo? I think not!” Her arm arched out and the bottle disappeared, narrowly missing a crow as it flew out of sight.
Angered beyond hope of being calmed, her ire grew, the lawns rippling as she drew more and more of the earth into her. The asphalt of the car-park buckled and cracked, the candy-yellow slabs of the walkers’ paths raining down as Mother Earth stood tall once more. Now towering above the town, she roared out loud. “Enough,” she thundered. “I demand my freedom!”