Dorothy
Fog covers the roads of an abandoned town. It is so silent you can almost hear it. Old street lights flicker in the dim morning sunlight. Homes are broken down and empty. All except one. Old Dorothy sits on her porch, rocking back and forth in her wooden rocking chair. In 2001, fire was set to the courthouse and it was burned to the ground. Hundreds died, the rest fled. A gas leak. That’s what everyone thought happened. It was a massacre. But Dorothy stayed. She never speaks. Even if she were to speak, she wouldn’t remember. She was diagnosed with alzheimers in 1974. She has a daughter, grown up now who has two kids. They used to visit before the town was abandoned, but she never knew who they were.
Old Dorothy spends all her time rocking in her chair, staring ahead. Bitter silence fills the empty voids of the houses. You can hear the wind quietly whistle and the fall leaves rustle. Rows of historic brick houses and stores separated by an empty road sit still on the crisp autumn morning. “Ring!” Dorothy’s head whips around, eyes bulging. She slowly stands up and walks to her beige phone mounted on the wall. She stands there, starting at the phone as the piercing rings continue. On the last ring, her wrinkly hands slowly pick up the phone. She says nothing. “Hi, Grandma!” a child’s voice excitedly screams. “We are coming to see you later today! We are getting ready to leave now and will be there in 45 minutes! Okay, bye see you soon!” Says the small child frantically. Dorthy does not reply. The call is ended with a beep and Dorothy drops the phone, letting it hang against the wall by the coiled wire.
About fifty minutes later, Dorothy’s family arrives. Betty, her daughter, Jonathan, her son in law, and her two grandchildren, all pile out of the silver Honda pulled up onto the curb. The two girls run up onto the porch and shout in their innocent voices, “Hi, Grandma!” They run around to the back of the house, exploring the vacant yards where neighbors used to live. Betty slowly walks up onto the porch and reaches out to grab Dorothy’s hand. “Hello, Ma.” she says in a calm yet frightened voice. Dorothy does not respond. She starts to shake. She screams out in drawn out whimpering groans. “It’s me, mama. It’s me. Betty. Your daughter.” Betty tries to calm her down, but she continues to shake and cry. Betty takes her inside and sits her down on the dusty mustard couch. She covers her with a blanket and makes her some hot tea. Dorothy calms down and is quiet. Awkward small talk fills the silence, but still no word from Dorothy. The day goes by slow. It's time they leave. As they are getting in the car, Betty says, “goodbye Mama.” Dorothy seems hesitant and nervous. She is sweating as she stands on the porch steps. “It was me!” she blurts out quickly. “I remember!” she screams with a scratchy voice. “Like it was yesterday.” she smirks. “Silence, just me, peace.” She utters these words seeming overwhelmed. She laughs. She laughs hysterically as she backs up and sits in her chair and starts rocking. Betty starts to laugh too. She opens the car door and sits in the chair next to Dorothy. “Nice work mother.” she whispers. She laughs until her rocking is in sync with Dorthy’s. They stay and they sit on the porch as worried Jonathan speeds out of the town with the girls.
Old Dorothy spends all her time rocking in her chair, staring ahead. Bitter silence fills the empty voids of the houses. You can hear the wind quietly whistle and the fall leaves rustle. Rows of historic brick houses and stores separated by an empty road sit still on the crisp autumn morning. “Ring!” Dorothy’s head whips around, eyes bulging. She slowly stands up and walks to her beige phone mounted on the wall. She stands there, starting at the phone as the piercing rings continue. On the last ring, her wrinkly hands slowly pick up the phone. She says nothing. “Hi, Grandma!” a child’s voice excitedly screams. “We are coming to see you later today! We are getting ready to leave now and will be there in 45 minutes! Okay, bye see you soon!” Says the small child frantically. Dorthy does not reply. The call is ended with a beep and Dorothy drops the phone, letting it hang against the wall by the coiled wire.
About fifty minutes later, Dorothy’s family arrives. Betty, her daughter, Jonathan, her son in law, and her two grandchildren, all pile out of the silver Honda pulled up onto the curb. The two girls run up onto the porch and shout in their innocent voices, “Hi, Grandma!” They run around to the back of the house, exploring the vacant yards where neighbors used to live. Betty slowly walks up onto the porch and reaches out to grab Dorothy’s hand. “Hello, Ma.” she says in a calm yet frightened voice. Dorothy does not respond. She starts to shake. She screams out in drawn out whimpering groans. “It’s me, mama. It’s me. Betty. Your daughter.” Betty tries to calm her down, but she continues to shake and cry. Betty takes her inside and sits her down on the dusty mustard couch. She covers her with a blanket and makes her some hot tea. Dorothy calms down and is quiet. Awkward small talk fills the silence, but still no word from Dorothy. The day goes by slow. It's time they leave. As they are getting in the car, Betty says, “goodbye Mama.” Dorothy seems hesitant and nervous. She is sweating as she stands on the porch steps. “It was me!” she blurts out quickly. “I remember!” she screams with a scratchy voice. “Like it was yesterday.” she smirks. “Silence, just me, peace.” She utters these words seeming overwhelmed. She laughs. She laughs hysterically as she backs up and sits in her chair and starts rocking. Betty starts to laugh too. She opens the car door and sits in the chair next to Dorothy. “Nice work mother.” she whispers. She laughs until her rocking is in sync with Dorthy’s. They stay and they sit on the porch as worried Jonathan speeds out of the town with the girls.