Red Sky at Morning...
It had begun like any other Sunday morning, the smell of fresh coffee wafted from the kitchen and the sound of dishes escalated the stairs to my sleep drunk ears. Mom would be standing over the stove, watching an egg fry while Dad was probably at the head of the table, glasses perched on his nose, reading Sports Illustrated. Everything was normal.
Except for the tugging in my brain that was telling me something was very wrong. Groggily I opened my eyes and surveyed the blurry room for my glasses. My head ached and I really just wanted a shower. As I lifted the lenses to my eyes the room snapped into focus, and that was when I saw it.
Out my bedroom window, past the tall oak tree that homed a nest of crows, the late morning sun shone blood red. I blinked a few times, rubbed my eyes for good measure, and looked again, but the sky was still draped in a curtain of scarlet.
The pounding in my head got louder and I made my way to the bathroom just as a wave of nausea nearly pushed me to my knees. I cranked the faucet until the water was nearly scalding and tried to drown out the pain in my temples.
A hurricane? An eclipse? My brain whirled with questions as the steam wrapped around my limbs and pulled at the oxygen in my brain. A solar flare? Light headed and hungry I stepped from the shower and into the foggy bathroom. The end of the world?
I rolled my eyes at the thought, but the twisting in my stomach got stronger.
Wrapping a towel around my waist I reached for my tooth brush and suddenly stopped short. The towel fell to the floor.
There in the steam covering the mirror were two lines. They could have been anything. But I knew they weren’t:
7
Seven. It was a seven. I knew without a doubt what that meant. And I had to tell someone.
“Mom. Dad. Something’s wrong.”
“Good morning honey,”
“Haven’t you noticed the sky?”
“Such a pretty sunrise, no?”
“It’s nearly noon.”
“Oh. Well either way it’s beautiful.”
The next morning was the same. Same red sky, same twisting in my gut, same oblivious parents. I awoke to the sound of screaming coming from my open window. Bolting awake I snatched my glasses off the night table and peered through the reddened haze and into the old oak tree. It was a crow, shrieking an ungodly sound. Around the base of the tree I could make out small blackened shapes, my blood turned cold as I realized they must be her chicks. All of them; dead.
“Mom, Dad, something’s wrong, the crows--”
“I know...such a pity isn’t it?”
Outside I collected the small corpses in a garbage bag and left it next to the road for collection. The mother continued to let out her heartbroken screams into the blood soaked sky. As I stared up at her a chill drifted down my spine, for there in the crook of the branch she stood upon, the leaves curled inwards, forming a perfect six .
The next day, I called animal control. The crows had flocked, and there was an entire murder perched on my front lawn. They had torn the garbage bag open and there were feathers scattered like death omens on my front porch.
“I need you to send someone, I have crows gathering outside my house. There are more everytime I check.”
“That is very strange... but I’m sure they will move on in their own time.”
“No, something’s wrong.”
“Call us back if they’re still there tomorrow.” Then she hung up. I called back but it went straight to an automated voice; “If you would like to leave a message, press five now.”
No one was listening to me and the world was about to end. What do you do with four days? How do you prepare? The sky had begun to cast a tinged light, not dissimilar to a heat lamp, across the town. The crows had neither moved nor stopped their haunting caws, but animal control seemed unperturbed by the situation. The pounding in my head had not let up, and I hadn’t been able to eat since Sunday. School seemed a welcome distraction, until fourth period when the fire alarm let out it’s piercing scream and forced everyone from the safety of the brick walls. Fire trucks arrived on scene and scanned the building for what seemed like hours. They emerged claiming the building was safe, however they could not find the source of the alarm. School was cancelled. Fourth period was over.
I woke at what seemed like the early hours of the morning, expecting to see 3am illuminated on my alarm clock, and was instead horrified to realize it was past ten. The sky was no longer a scarlet aura, it was a dark abyss. The sun never rose at all. Outside I heard nothing, the crows had stopped crying. Maybe they were all dead now too.
I pulled the covers back up over my head and prayed for sleep to come to me. Suddenly, into the painstakingly quiet air a shotgun wrang out. Three clean shots.
I don’t know what time I awoke the next day; the power had gone out. A “city wide black out, a weather phenomenon, an uncalled for solar eclipse” they were calling it.
Everything’s fine, no need to worry. They were saying. I could hear the pitter-patter of something falling against my window panes as I huddled in the warmth of my bed. Hail. It was hailing in September. There were two gentle knocks on my bedroom door. Two voices on the other side begging me to let them in. But there were two locks bolted across my door and two chairs barachading me inside my safe room. I couldn’t feel the hunger anymore, and the pounding in my head had finally let up, all I wanted was to be alone.
I knew it was morning when the hail stopped. I sat up slowly and craned my neck towards the window, straining to make out anything in the darkness. And then there it was, a light in the distance. Maybe it was the sun, finally re emerging from its untimely death, or maybe it was the starvation finally causing me to hallucinate.
I stared, captivated, at the approaching light-- it was the only sight on the horizon, seemingly the only sight in the world. It was then that I realized what I was staring at wasn’t the sun rising to save us from this peril, but a flame tearing across the desolate tundra, engulfing everything it came upon.
The house seemed eerily quiet, no parents, no crows, no shotguns. I unlatched my bedroom door and stumbled down the stairs to find my mom sitting, alone, in the dark of the kitchen.
“Something’s wrong.” She said.
I said nothing, just moved close enough to hold on to her. Together we left the house and joined the crowds that had gathered on the street. The light was brighter now, close enough that we could see the looks of panic illuminated on the faces of those around us.
No one screamed. No one ran. Everyone just stood and waited for the fire to swallow us whole. And then our ashes would collide and meld and we would all just be One.