Author's note: This is one of my first novels I have written. I really enjoyed writing it and am looking forward... Show full author's note »
MichelleI am running.
The rain rushes down from the heavens. It falls through the pitch black sky, which is lightened only by the occasional bursts of lightning.
I am lost.
I am not sure how long I have been running, but I do know that it has been much longer than a little while. However, I am not tired, not the least bit weary. I could run for miles and miles and not sweat a drop.
I pass houses, and the warm light which passes through their windows. I see a figure reading the paper on a living room couch. I pass more houses. I see another silhouette standing in front of a window, most likely commenting on the severity of the storm.
I keep running.
The rows of houses stop and soon office buildings tower over me. I have been running for hours and hours just to end up downtown. I slow to a stop and take comfort in the fact that at least this place is somewhat similar.
Walking down the lonely sidewalk, I come across a fountain; the water has been turned off.
“Michelle and Sam, stand over by that fountain so we can take a picture!” Mom exclaims.
Sam and I roll our eyes at each other and remind ourselves never to suggest coming downtown again.
“Smile!” Mom chimes, bringing her ancient, chunky camera up to her face.
I force a quick grin until I see the flash of the camera.
“C’mon guys, be more enthusiastic. Days like this, spending time with my favorite family members, always remind me how good it is to be alive!” Dad says.
Yea, it was great to be alive.
I continue walking.
As I step in puddles, water droplets drench my already soaking wet shins. Ahead I see a figure, hunched over on a bench, seeming desperate to keep warm.
I walk a little faster.
The figure is a man who is about in his forties. He is without an umbrella, just a brown hat to cover his head. His eyes are glued on the road, looking down it as far as his eyes can reach.
“Excuse me,” I say, “Can you help me?”
My words do not break the man’s gaze.
“I need directions.” I say again.
Still, the man does not look up.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” I ask, desperate for a response that will not come.
The man looks up, except not at me. Two beams of lights shine down an empty street and a bus pulls up in front of the bench. The man stands up, walks right through me, and disappears onto the bus.
I am alone again.