I was born the dark clouds covered the earth and all vegetation began to die. I became 17 and a single fern sprouted from the earth winds could not break it drought could not kill it. i became 20 the fern burst into flames its leaves screaming out in agony. oil covered its roots, hope was lost. i turned 25 while sifting through the oil a storm erupted and crashing winds of a hurricane blew fiercely on the fern but it did not die. the next day the clouds began to dissapate the soil regained its fertility still horribly beaten the fern continued to grow. as will I