The harsh sun blazes down on me, blinding me as I struggle to get to my feet. I stumble and have to brace myself against a chainlink fence to keep myself from eating asphalt. A dull ache thrums through the my head, starting from the brainstem and shooting straight through like a railroad spike into the back of eyes. My mouth is dry, feeling like I’d been sucking in sand through a straw all night.
Which I could very well have been doing. I can’t remember anything I did last night. In fact, I can’t remember anything before that. Even my own name eluded me. It was there, as if it was hiding in some thick fog, but no matter how much I chased it, it was always just beyond my reach.
Panic begins to settle in as I begin to pat myself down, hoping to find something that might give me some clue as to who I am and how I got to be sprawled out by the road but I only find empty pockets. The road is empty except a bike laying a few feet from where I woke up.
I judge that it must be late morning. The sun is high, but not quite noon yet. This puzzled me further. This late in the day, someone should have found me by now or at least noticed me on the ground and called someone to help me. Still, there was nothing.
I pick up the bike and hop on. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I had to get away from that place. Maybe the exercise will jog my memory or I’ll see something I recognize. In the back of my head, I’m bemused that I can’t remember my own name but I still remember how to ride a bike. I guess you really never forget.
The road I’m on travels past a school and into a residential area. As I ride, I pass house after house but none of them look familiar to me. Every place I see is dark and no cars line the streets or sit in driveways. That’s when I realize what’s been bugging me since I woke up. The silence. Aside from the sound of my own breathing and the tires of my bike on road, there’s no sound of anything anywhere. No cars down the block. No birds chirping. No dogs barking.
This was the final straw and I ditch the bike and run up to the first house I see. It’s a simple little two story green house, with a fenced yard and a garden gnome standing in the little garden by the front steps. I pull open the screendoor and knock on the door, trying to keep my hand from pounding on it in a frenzied panic. I keep telling myself that it’s all in my head and that it’s just a dream or something.
Nobody answers the door. I don’t even hear the sound of movement inside. I knock again, this time louder and more frantic, but still no one comes to answer. I leap off the steps and rush to the neighbouring house, this one a bigger red brick house, with hedges around the yard and a big yellow Tonka truck on path leading up to the door.
The sound of my hand slapping against the thick brown door echoed through the neighbourhood, like gunshots in my ear. Still, nothing stirred anyways. My breathes quickened as I fought to keep myself from collapsing in complete animal panic. I can feel my hand grab the door handle and twist it open, but I can’t stop myself as I barge into the house.
I trip over the landing and practically fall into the house, almost toppling down the stairs but I manage to catch myself on the bannister. Inside the house, it’s as quiet as it is outside. I creep down the stairs, my next breath held captive inside my lungs as I strain my ears to catch something, anything, inside.
The basement is filled with furniture covered in white sheets. A layer of dust covers everything, as if nothing had been in the room for a long time. I check every room only to find the same thing. The walls, ceiling, and carpet are all white, streaked with dust and dirt. The only footprints on the carpet is my own.
Intense feelings well up inside of me and I want to just run out of the house but somehow I know every house will be the same. Cold empty relics left behind by people long ago. It’s like the entire population of the city packed up and just moved away as I lay on the ground, oblivious to the world.
The strike of the bell is so loud and sudden, I almost scream. Another follows it, then another. I race through the house to find the source and discover a grandfather clock standing in what looked like a living room. It’s the only thing in the house not covered in a sheet and I wonder to myself how I could have missed when I realize that I can hear coming from outside as well.
I glance out the window to see someone walking down the street, dressed in red. As they get closer, I can see that it’s a woman wearing silk pajamas and she looks dazed. I smile, the first one I’ve had since I woke up an hour ago.
642 Things 