Aspen Hart
I’m a new author. I’ve only been writing a few months so I hope you enjoy my progress
Aspen Hart
I’m a new author. I’ve only been writing a few months so I hope you enjoy my progress
I’m a new author. I’ve only been writing a few months so I hope you enjoy my progress
I’m a new author. I’ve only been writing a few months so I hope you enjoy my progress
“Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.”
The noise of the alarm rings through my ears. It’s loud enough to shake my whole body awake. I pick up my phone and hit the “stop” button. Getting up in the morning is the hardest part of my day, and my lack of sleep and exhaustion only make it worse.
I pull myself out of the bed, and set my feet firmly on the ground. I rub my eyes and look around. Something feels off.
I look back at down at my bed, and then up at the window, but nothing is strange or out of place. I decide to shrug it off. I check my phone. The time is 7:15. I still have plenty of time to get ready. I walk into my bathroom, and start my daily routine. I brush my teeth and hair and put in my favourite pair of earrings. I have had them for years, but they’re still in tact after all this time. They completed my appearance. I dont know what I would do if I lost them. I stand up straight, look back into the mirror and sigh. I can already tell that today will be a long day. As I continue to stare into the mirror, the feeling comes back again. Something is wrong. I glance around the bathroom, but nothing stands out. I’m starting to freak out. This isn’t a normal feeling, and it’s certainly not a good one. I leave the bathroom and walk back toward my room. The feeling follows me. I don’t know what to do. I pick up my phone and open it up. My eyes widen. 7:15. The time hasn’t changed on my phone. It must be broken. I shut it off and turn it on again. It remains 7:15. I look out the window. Nothing stands out. Is something wrong with my phone? I decide to call my mom, because I know something is up. I dial her number and wait. No answer. I call her again. No answer. I start to panic. Are my calls not going through? Is my phone broken, or is it something much worse? I feel like I’m losing my mind. Surely something works? I run into my living room to turn on my Tv. I look around for the remote that I l always lose. something catches my eye. I look at the window, and toward the sun. It hasn’t moved since I woke up this morning. It’s in the same spot. Ever since I hit the stop button, nothing has changed except for the things I interacted with. It’s almost like everything is stuck. Then, it hits me. Time has stopped.
It’s all an awful game.
I’m not sure how it started, or why it happens, but it’s torture. I lay chained in a bed. I’m not sure how I got here, or why I’m here in the first place, but I’ve been here for hours, playing a “game”. It’s instructions were written on the ceiling. “60 SECONDS IN A MINUTE. ONE SECOND OUT THE WINDOW. ONE CHANCE OF SEEING IT. NO CHANCE OF LIFE.” I hear the clock ding. It’s been exactly one minute. I have sixty seconds to look. I wait and count. 4–5–6–7– I have to look for just once second. 10-11-12-13-14–15– I look out the window across from my bed. I see nothing. Relief hits me. There’s only a 1.67% chance you see it. The problem is, that’s the chance every minute. I hear the ding again. I inhale slowly. My limbs shake. I count the seconds, hoping that I pick the right one. 21–22–23–24- I look up into the window. I see nothing. Relief hits again. I know it won’t be long before I see it. The game wasn’t meant to last forever. I breathe out slowly, and I stare a the ceiling. I read the words again. “NO CHANCE OF LIFE”. I hear the ding of the clock. The shaking worsens. My force air out of my lungs. Sweat oozes down my face. I continue to stare at the ceiling and the words as I count down the time. 24–25–25–27– I breathe in. I try to stay calm. 29-30–31–32–33– I look out the window. A red eye looks back at me. Not a second passes before the glass shatters and it races toward me. I scream. It’s all I can do. I knew all along that this was how it would end.
“Are you having fun?” Why would this be fun I’m not even here willingly—of course it’s not fun.
“Are you okay?”
“Yep!”
Definitely not okay I don’t want to be here I hate everything about this place.
“Are you Sure?”
Oh shoot they’re catching onto me—Don’t panic.
“Positive. I’m going to go grab a drink.”
Gosh why can’t people just leave me alone I really don’t feel like talking…
“Seriously, are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Why do they care so much? It’s not like I’m crying or screaming, I just don’t want to be here
“I’m worried about you.”
Well how do I react to that one? Thanks- Sorry- Tell them the truth- run away- I know.
“I’m just not a big party person.”
That’ll cover me for now.
M agnificent you are, so beautiful, and wondrous. U nique you are, diverse in culture, and tune. S weet is your sound, wether soft, or thunderous. I mpactful you are, on my life, and my view. C aptivating you are, your sound enchanting and soothing,
Though it’s rough, the inevitable is true.
D evastated I am, to know that one day I’ll lose you. E mpty I will be, when my hearing leaves. A fraid I am, when inescapable silence pursues. F ated I am, to stop hearing your symphony.
(S lowly and surely, I am losing my hearing. A wful it is that there is no cure. D readful am I, of the hearing I’m losing,
Because oh, music, do I love you.)
Their eyes were warm like honey, She always thought this true. Their voice like was a sweet, warm spring, Tearing into you.
I hope she sees what I saw, Since the first time they spoke. Though their voice is so soft and sweet, Their words are all a joke.
They used their eyes to tear her down, With their hazy, lemony gaze. They used her, abused her, for the fun, For months upon weeks upon days.
She used to let them do this, Her heart was always swayed. But soon enough she realised, How much this made her pained.
Now she’s cut them out forever, they’re no longer a concern. And I know that that’s the only lesson, She ever needed to learn.
I wake up, and my eyes droop with exhaustion. Despite sleeping in silk sheets and a queen sized mattress, I had another sleepless night. I heard my alarm ringing, practically shaking my body.
I force myself from my bed, and slip on some slippers. My feet make the “sch.. sch..sch” noise as I drag myself to the bathroom. I do the daily necessities: Brush Teeth, apply some makeup, put on casual clothes, etcetera. I tie my hair back in a perfect bun, ensuring not a single strand escapes. I take my apron from its place on the wall. I tie it around my neck and waist, and position it straight across my body. When I check my time on the clock, panic hits me. I am already 10 minutes late.
I have exactly 2 hours to cook 7 people the the perfect meal. It sounds easy, but it’s not when those 7 people happen to be the haughtiest, pickiest, most spoiled beings in the world. If the food is slightly over or undercooked, consider my life over. Quite literally, because the people I had been cooking for were an entire family of monsters. They ate mainly meat, and ate it 4 meals a day. I doubt they would think twice about eating me.
I lay, staring at a white plastered wall. The room was dead silent, and empty. The only thing alive in here was me.
My memory of you is never dull. I can still see your face, and hear your voice. Your laugh, a sweet ringing that echos in my heart. A laugh that has not rung in so long.
It doesn’t hurt like it used to. When I think about you, I almost feel numb. My brain is empty, my body Unmoving. I don’t try to get up anymore.
Since the day you were gone, part of me left. I was missing something. I was missing what gave me life. I was missing you.
As I stared at the white plastered wall, I realised something. It was something that was undeniably true. Now that you’re gone, and all that’s left is me, I’m just as dead as the rest of the room.
“C’mon Oceana,” I call out. A girl about a foot shorter than her doorframe stepped out from the dome shaped house. She briskly walked from board to board toward me. I smile wide and opens my arms for a hug. Without hesitation, she walks right past me.
“We can’t be late, Porter.” She jumps from bridge to bridge. They sway from her force in each step. Disappointed, I walk after her. She begins walking her way toward the large gates that surround the inside of the city, leaving me far behind.
Every time I see the city, it’s in a different place. While there are several thousand anchors holding the city down, the tide can’t help but move it ever so slightly each day. It’s not much of a problem, because there’s only vast open seas to travel, and we’re the only civilisation on the planet.
“Are you excited, Port?” Oceana slows down her pace to walk next to me.
“Yeah. I know the play’s going to be great.” It was more of a hope. I had never seen a play before, so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, or if I would enjoy it. The same was for Oceana, but she is far more excited than I am. We had both been looking for any reason to travel into the city, and this was the perfect opportunity.
We arrive about 10 minutes later. The place is entirely crowded. benches are bolted onto several flats of wood that all face an elevated platform. Merchants are going around selling raw fish kebabs, bagged shrimp, and candied seaweed on carts. I grab a small candy from a cart and pop it into my mouth. Thankfully, no one noticed. We walk to two open seats and take our places there. I look around at the surrounding people. I guess we weren’t the only ones excited.
There was a loud crash; a hit on a drum. I nearly jump out of my seat. The people quiet down and turn their attention to the platform. We all watch, waiting for something to happen. A loud voice rumbles the ground.
“13 NE, all things on land were well, until the flood.”
Earthquakes no longer feel so foreign to my body, I haven’t felt a sense of peace in years. Thoughts begin to overwhelm me like a deadly wave, But I’ve learned with time I can’t control them.
Now Hurricanes do not phase me as they used to do, They blow through my head nearly every day. As they force into me when I amble past my peers, I already know who will win the fight.
Volcano eruptions do occur from time to time, I’m aware I cannot keep down the burn. When the Lava overflows from my lips to the air, I know that I can never take it back.
People gather around me, watching my fire spread, But anyone that comes near makes it worse. They question me, and ask me things that supply the storm. “how can one kid be such a disaster.”
The sky blurs red above me, and the sun blazes in my eyes. My hair is matted to my neck. Sweat pours down my back and face. I stick to the sand beneath. My head buzzes in the bog.
Not a soul is near you; you are all alone.
The heat drowns out my thoughts. It suffocates me from above, and bites into me from below. The sun ripples off my skin. It’s so heavy I can’t move. I try to cry out, but only murmurs escape my lips.
Even if you could cry out, Would anyone hear you?
I turn my gaze to the left, my head gritting against the sand. For miles, all I can see are dunes of fuming dust, just like the mound I lay on. I realise that sand will be the last thing I see. Panic rises in my beating heart.
No one can save you.
Fumes escape my own mouth. My breath was heavy. My head pounded with the layer of death so close. No one would know what became of me.
Would they ever find your body? Or will it be buried in these bright dunes that go on forever?
I try to cry out again, but nothing comes out. The sun starts to fade from sight. I focus on my breathing. Nobody will come looking. No one would know I was here. The only thing here was me, the sand, and the heat.
And that is all that ever will be.