Wednesday, May 19, 2010

The Sun Didn't Rise

My joints ache and my sheets are wet from sweat. I kick them off me, letting the cool air rest on my moist skin. My room is dark. It is always dark in the morning. The deep chocolate and rich caramel walls soak up the sunshine. My lovers never understand. Not that it matters. I sleep better without the intrusion of early morning light. Today, it is exceptionally dark. There must be a storm brewing outside. The kind with clouds too heavy to lift themselves far off the ground. I smile at the thought of the wicked weather that may be unleashed. I love storms.

I have the urge to pee. Stretching, I look at my alarm clock. I don't have to be up for another 15 minutes. I roll over, draping the covers across my waist, but my bladder isn't willing to play along. After a couple of minutes, I am annoyed enough to extricate myself from the bed and go to the bathroom. On my way back to bed, I glimpse the darkness coming in from under the bamboo shades. The pitch of it reminds me of the days I used to go spelunking. I found great comfort in the dark inner sanctuaries of many caves.

The thought strikes me as odd. Even the worst storm can not produce a darkness like that. I move to the window and pull the shades up. I can see nothing except the faint glowing lights of neighbors houses. The small amount of light makes me feel as if they are several miles away, not practically touching the side of my house. My confusion leads to curiosity. I pull the remote from the top of the dresser and flip on the TV. Every channel fills with the president or a scientist explaining some meteorological concern.

I jump when my alarm starts its shrill beeping. Turning it off, I focus on the TV. One of the scientists is speaking. "We believe this is a warning of worse things to come. Our sun is dying. Today represents a brief flicker in its energy field. Eventually, the flickers will become much longer and the earth will slowly freeze over."

A frightened reporter asks, "What do you mean a brief flicker? I mean, how long is this brief flicker going to last?"

The scientist looks knowledgeable. I can tell he is doing his best to avert filling people with fear and hopelessness, but this same fear have been etched deep into the wrinkles on his face. "I would suspect the sun won't rise today."

"What about tomorrow?" and unidentified reporter yells from what I guess is the back of the room.

"If our telescope readings are correct, I would suspect we will see the sun tomorrow. For now, the important thing is for people to stay warm. Invite friends and family over. Prepare a nice meal. Pull out the board games. Tomorrow is another day."

I turn off the TV. The magnitude of the situation begins to over take me. I pick up the phone and call my mom. She picks up. "Hello?" she says.

"Hi mom. Did you see the news this morning?" I am breathless.

"Yeah. Isn't that something."

A silence sits between us. I can tell she doesn't fully understand what this means. After all, the scientists said tomorrow would be another day. Mom has always lived her life from one day to the next. Its her mantra. "Yeah. It is. Ummm....... mom, I'm coming home to stay for a while, okay?"

"You're doing what?" She doesn't wait for a response. "Well, what about your job?" she asks.

"I telecommute mom. I can work from anywhere. Anyway, I should be there in about 4 hours. I need to shower and pack. Is there anything special I can bring home with me?"

"Harold!" she yells across the house, "Our baby is coming home to stay awhile. Won't that be lovely! Can you ready her room?" She returns to me. "It's so wonderful to have you visit so spontaneously dear. Please. Just bring yourself! We have everything we could possibly need. Okay, well Mrs. Rossel is going to be wondering where I am today. I need to go. She's working on playing chopsticks for the senior recital at the nursing home in three weeks. I'll see you when you get here, okay?'

"Okay mom. I'll talk to you soon." We hang up and I sit still for a while. It is eerily quiet. I break the silence as I begin to gather blankets and non-perishable food. Not that it will much matter, but we will all need a little comfort in these final days.

*** Imagination Prompt Generator***

1 comment:

  1. You are really coming into your own as a writer. This is really nice. Normality followed by a change.