Curious, Curious


THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Why is a carrot more orange than an orange?

I had this weird idea today. It probably won’t work – but I’m running with it.

 

I guess you’re wondering what happened. Why everything is like the way it is now.

I’m here to give you answers.

Sure, I’m not the most qualified. I was only fourteen when it started.  And I can’t speak for an entire generation.

But I have to try, nevertheless.

* * *

I loved to read. For me, it was a way to escape. A way to say “Later gator!” to the world. I loved the places I could travel to – the farthest corners of space, thousands of miles underground, even the past or future. One of the few consistent joys I found, one that would always be there for me, was hitching a ride on someone else’s imagination. That’s what I was doing on the first NWD, or New World Day.

“Go! Now! Don’t look back!”

“Why? Dad, what’s going on-”

All at once, every window imploded. Glass exploded into the room.  Reacting on pure instinct, I suddenly dove to the ground and rolled myself into a ball, all the while seeing only dust. Everything was covered with dust and dirt. And then more dust covered the dirt.

Crawling out from under the kitchen table, dazed, I called, “Dad! Daddy! Where are you? What’s happening?”

Silence.

“Daddy!”

A thousand things were happening in my head, but I pushed the most demanding to the forefront. Ava, my sister, was nowhere to be seen. For that matter, I couldn’t see anything. Dust was everywhere; it still hadn’t settled, and I was starting to feel helpless –but then I heard a cough.

“Ava! Where are you? Can you hear me? Ava!” I shouted in the general direction of the cough.

“Jade,” a voice called hoarsely, barely audible through the chaos that had started to take place outside. Dodging debris, I ran toward the sound. What I saw was not what I was hoping for. Ava, only twelve, was having her legs crushed by an orange piece of ceiling. That was probably the only reason she was still alive. If the ceiling had been crushing her ribcage, she would be-no.  I need to be strong. For Ava. I didn’t know where Zoe and Kevin, our parents, are. They might be in the same situation as Ava or – worse.

Kasey, our Siamese cat, was meowing like crazy, obviously trying to draw me towards Ava.  Seeing me running towards her, Kasey got under the fallen ceiling and tried to straighten her back to lift the ceiling off of Ava. It wasn’t working.

“Jade,” Ava croaked, breathing heavily. “Where are you?” she coughed.

“Ava, I’m right here, baby, I’m right here,” I cooed.

“Don’t leave me!” she screamed, a fit of coughs racking her body.

“I would never do that, Ava, never. I promise. I’m going to get this off of you.  Don’t worry, Ava, don’t worry…” I murmured, all the while trying to get the lump of plaster that had been the ceiling minutes before off of Ava.

Even while the life was being crushed out of her, Ava was beautiful.  Long, straight brown hair – coated white from plaster – ran down to her shoulder blades. It complimented her ivory skin and violet eyes. The only difference between us was that my hair was a flaming red. Although I was a few inches taller, people have often mistaken us for twins.

Ava’s sharp intake of breath disturbed my train of thought.  Apparently, I had touched her. “Ava, oh Ava, I’m so sorry!” I whispered in her ear, and started to stroke her hair. But I had much bigger problems. How are we going to get out of here if I can’t even touch her?

“Zoe? Kevin?”

Who was calling my parents? And why were they even calling for Mom and Dad? Do I answer?

“Crap.  Crap, crap, crap. Jade? Ava? Anyone? Is anyone still here?”

Oh my God. Drake.

***

Curious, curious. Leave your thoughts in a comment below, and don’t forget to subscribe!

Sincerely, Lemons

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One response to this post.

  1. Posted by Freedom, by the way on February 14, 2011 at 9:08 am

    Wow. Another fast-paced story. Like it. Where’s it going? Are you going to complete it?

    The best line of anything of yours I’ve read thus far:

    “One of the few consistent joys I found, one that would always be there for me, was hitching a ride on someone else’s imagination.”

    Hitching a ride on someone else’s imagination–that, my dear, is award-winning.

    Reply

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