Its like every day and every moment, you sit there thinking why am I here? Your life is just some endless sitcom that never ends and keeps going on and on with the same old laugh track being played in the background. Your life has become routine and nothing like what you wanted it to be. The days are getting increasingly warmer and you start to become accustomed to the smell of smoke. The night is a display of dancing lights off in the distance, both a feast for the eyes and a warning to those familiar with its all too mesmerizing glow.
You are eight years old now and nothing can quite strip the melancholy feeling that you are having today. And of course it happens on this day, May 15th, of all days that you get this all too wonted feeling. You awake, like every other day, in your brightly red painted room. Red was of course your favorite color. It reminds you of the first time you had ever made a friend. James A. Garfield Elementary, it’s named the rainbow school because of its vibrant display of colors that adorn one side of the building. The face of the wall is covered in such a way that the various colors come together to form a quasi-looking rainbow that looms over the playground. That red bouncy ball in a white chalked out square. His name was Nicholas.
Your room is that of any typical child of eight. Toys strewn about here and there. A shiny ceramic dragon that you made in art class sits on your desk. Finger imprints on his neck and feet let you know that he’s one of a kind. The ceiling is covered in these opaque stars forming various constellations. Your room is home to you. For today, if you had it your way you would never leave this room. So you quickly duck your head under the blanket and close your eyes.
A light knocking can be heard from your door.
“Honey, you should really be getting up. You don’t want to be late for school.” Asked your mother, opening the door slightly to get a look at you.
“I’m not going, and no one is making me.” You shout, from beneath the covers.
She opens the door and walks over to the side of your bed. Leaning over to try and get a better look at you.
Your mother says with a stern look on her face, “Now I’m not going to ask again. Either you get up or I’m going to get Alice.”
You lie there not saying a word. Thinking in your head, who is Alice? Next, you hear her walk over to your desk, set something heavy down, and then out of the room. Either because of what you know today is and how your feeling or because your slightly put off by the peculiarity of your mother, you decide to just lay there a bit before getting up.
Unfortunately, everything was as it was emerging from the security of the covers. Looking around, you wish that you could just stay here. Nothing bad could happen if you remained home. But the bad thing always happens. Year after year, just like the occurrence of summer. When the smoke fills the air, chocking you and making the very air you breath toxic, you know its time. Without fail, you will succumb to an unfortunate curse. It is a curse that you have had the misfortune of being burdened with, for as long as you can remember. For today someone dies. Not by choice but for some reason it just happens. As far back as you know, on the fifteenth of May someone who you talk to, run into or even think about on this specific date ends up dead because of you. Each death is as terrible as the last. But you know is not the time to think about that. You are home and life goes on if you let it.
Through the partially open door you can hear what sounds like your mother and another woman arguing. You can’t quite make out what they are saying. Curiosity gets the better of you. As you quietly tip toe out of your room down the hallway lined with pictures of your mother and you. Leaning over the railing, looking down towards the welcome mat of the entryway, you listen in to the conversation.
“They’re not ready. The format isn’t quite right yet. They have to really believe that…” Your mother says as she stops mid sentence.
“What’s wrong with the monitor?” A woman’s voice says.
You hear footsteps quickly walking towards the staircase. You take a few steps back so that whom ever is walking your way can’t see you from below.
“Honey, is that you?” Your mother calls out.
You say nothing but quickly make your way back to your room shutting the door. Footsteps can be heard making there way down the hallway now. Quickly you sit down at you desk trying to make it look like you were here the whole time.
Another slight knock and the door opens with your mom looking slightly relieved and out of breath as though she had just ran to your door.
“Good, your up. Ready for school?” your mother says with a sigh of relief.
“Just about. Making sure I have my homework together.” You say throwing a smile in her direction.
She begins to leave the room when you remember something and blurt it out.
“Who’s Alice?”
With a slight puzzled look on her face, “Your big sister of course. Are you sure your feeling alright?”
You struggle for a second to comprehend her words. “I don’t have a sister,” you say under your breath.
“What was that?” She replies with a prompt response.
You shake you head as to imply that nothing was said.
But rather than question further you decide to play it off as a joke.
“Of course I know that. I was only playing. I’m still waking up.” You say stretching your arms up and pretending to yawning.
“If you say so.” She says exiting the room.
You can hear her foots steps as she makes her way back down stairs. Boy was she acting weird today. I mean who were you to say what is weird? After all you were the one who was going to have to do something terrible to someone today. Maybe you did have a sister. I mean now that she said that, you do kind of remember having a sister. You try to put what you had just heard out of your mind as you focus on the day at hand.
Turning towards the desk you half expected there to be something sitting there waiting for you to look at it. But there was nothing out of the ordinary there. Only your schoolwork, a pencil or two and your ceramic dragon were all that remained on the desk. Nothing of weight that would have made the sound you heard earlier. For a time you ponder the idea that you might be crazy. Hearing sounds and voices is never a good sign. How could you forget about your sister? Pretend like you never forgot about your eleven year old sister who loves you like crazy. She’s only like your rock that keeps you grounded to reality. Pretty much the most important person in you life.
You slam the palm of your hand against your forehead, “Don’t forget about Alice!”
Moving past the events that just transpired, you go about getting ready for the day. Dressed, packed and food digesting in your stomach, you wait idly in the garage next to your moms mini-van. Staring at the various shelves containing a mixture of Christmas decorations and gardening supplies, as you begin to hear it.
At first a low beeping sound, has now graduated to a blaring, almost deafening, screech. You drop to the cement ground, back against the van covering your ears.
And then as fast as it had started it was gone.
Silence.
As if all the sound in the world was swallowed up. You place one finger in your ear, while snapping the other in hopes of producing anything audible. Standing in the garage you open your mouth to yell but nothing comes out. The world has gone silent.
Then you hear a male’s voice that comes from inside your head. Growing louder and louder until the origin is no longer discernable.
With a voice that sounds like it’s coming from a PA system, “ You’re going to be a bit disoriented. But I’m going to count down from five and then your going to wake up.”
“FIVE.”
“FOUR.”
“THREE.”
“TWO.”
“ONE.”