CONCEPT WORK

M E D U S A 
Brent Freeman
V E X A T I O N 
by Sylvia Bonillos
​A woman stands alone among the destruction of her emotions. She can’t see the bodies from where she stands, alone in the woods, but she feels them. The trillions that lie lifeless across the world. Now she is alone. Soil sits soaked from the days of rain she forced upon them. Trees stand scarred and broken from the crackling lightning that split through the dark sky. Animals float in the running rivers. Plants bow their heads to the ground, too tired to stand tall. Too tired to be alive. All unwitting casualties in her attack against those crushed in their houses and trapped in their cars. And so she sobs. Clouds form again but they are tired too and only drizzle what’s left over the ruins of Earth. “I’m sorry,” she gasps and she crumbles to the ground. There has to be someone, something. But there was no one. Her fury had slaughtered all natural life on Earth. She was no longer their Mother. She was their Murderer.