Grey and Empty
Opening the door, the lights were off with seemingly no one home. Coming home from cross country felt empty with Tracy away at work. Rorrie stumbled upstairs, as her books were piled high and her brain was numb from the countless classes she had just endured. Becka laughed over the phone at her clumsiness. Rorrie Calemblack was struggling meantaly, dealing with a recent death in the family, making her feel isolated. “If she gives me another assignment, so help me I am dropping out,” groaned Becka, as she tried to understand question twelve, “can you just do it for me?”. Rorrie avoided the question, not wanting to deal with Becka. “You know what, I have to go, I think I hear Tracy coming. Call you later!”, She said, and hung up the phone. Feed up with the day, Rorrie stood mumbling, complaining about the weeks she had been having recently.
Waking up was the worst part of Rorrie’s daily routine. Tracy had seemed to be working more, disappearing from time to time at the hospital, leaving her alone again. Her first cross country meet was today, so she struggled her way into the bathroom to get ready. The splash of the cold water felt like a wake up into a different dimension.
Question twelve, the one that Becka forgot to do, sat in front of her. She felt unmotivated to even pick up her pen. As she drew the strokes of her pencil they all stood straight, seemingly not even touching. It looked like Becka's handwriting, sloppy and almost blurry. The number 12 written on her paper soon seemed evidently smaller, disappearing. Wondering if she needed some extra sleep she texted Becka, asking to call her, oddly getting no response. Rorrie felt that Becka was off after yesterday's cross country practice, but didn't say anything.
Slipping on her jersey for her race, Rorrie’s stress levels were rising, nevertheless she put on her headphones and walked out to the track. Her warmup was two steady laps, listening to her feet pump in rhythm with her breathing soothed her worries. After promising to show, yet again Tracy wasn't at the meet, but Becka stood in the bleachers where she wasn't seen, but Rorrie knew she was there. The gun went off, seemingly louder than usual, she began her run. Twelve laps was all she had committed to. Pacing in front, she felt like no was even coming close to her. The starting gun went off again; Startled she fell and hit her head. Twelve laps, that was all she needed to do, and as she blacked out Becka talked to her. She was yelling, shooting the starting gun from feet away. Rorrie’s world faded to nothingness, she was alone with Becka, and as she came back to consciousness, she saw a room. Broken with no lights, just Becka’s echoing screams. Her medications wore off, and as she felt Tracy, dead on the ground, she looked out the window at the sky. Grey and Empty, her medication had kept her from exposure, but left her in a post apocalyptic world with nothing left.
Waking up was the worst part of Rorrie’s daily routine. Tracy had seemed to be working more, disappearing from time to time at the hospital, leaving her alone again. Her first cross country meet was today, so she struggled her way into the bathroom to get ready. The splash of the cold water felt like a wake up into a different dimension.
Question twelve, the one that Becka forgot to do, sat in front of her. She felt unmotivated to even pick up her pen. As she drew the strokes of her pencil they all stood straight, seemingly not even touching. It looked like Becka's handwriting, sloppy and almost blurry. The number 12 written on her paper soon seemed evidently smaller, disappearing. Wondering if she needed some extra sleep she texted Becka, asking to call her, oddly getting no response. Rorrie felt that Becka was off after yesterday's cross country practice, but didn't say anything.
Slipping on her jersey for her race, Rorrie’s stress levels were rising, nevertheless she put on her headphones and walked out to the track. Her warmup was two steady laps, listening to her feet pump in rhythm with her breathing soothed her worries. After promising to show, yet again Tracy wasn't at the meet, but Becka stood in the bleachers where she wasn't seen, but Rorrie knew she was there. The gun went off, seemingly louder than usual, she began her run. Twelve laps was all she had committed to. Pacing in front, she felt like no was even coming close to her. The starting gun went off again; Startled she fell and hit her head. Twelve laps, that was all she needed to do, and as she blacked out Becka talked to her. She was yelling, shooting the starting gun from feet away. Rorrie’s world faded to nothingness, she was alone with Becka, and as she came back to consciousness, she saw a room. Broken with no lights, just Becka’s echoing screams. Her medications wore off, and as she felt Tracy, dead on the ground, she looked out the window at the sky. Grey and Empty, her medication had kept her from exposure, but left her in a post apocalyptic world with nothing left.