I rub the tears from my puffy eyes. This seems to have become a pattern. I wake up, dressed in clothes that are covered in dirt and grime, then I walk over to my boarded up window, the only one in my whole house. I brace myself for the tears that I know will come. The window is small and circular, large enough to fit a basketball through.
I remember basketball. It was one of my favourite games to play with my friends. What I would give to be able to play with them one more time. When you have been alone for as long as me any communication is all you wish for.
I grab the board against the window not knowing why I do this every day. None the less I pull the board away and put it against the dry, yellowing walls. I look out the window for something, anything new. I scan the surroundings outside hoping to find what this planet now lacks, life. I can't believe I'm doing this to myself. My heart drops in my chest. I stare out the window everything in sight is still, drained of life. Even the sun is hidden behind a thick layer of brown clouds, leaving the ground below a dreary shade of gray. I look to the horizon. What used to be a defined line separating green from blue is now a fuzzy separation between brown earth and a brown-grey sky. The air is thick with pollution, but I'm used to it. I scan the horizon, looking for any change, nothing. I look to where a lake had been, now a dry barren pit. On the edge of the pit is a large willow tree long dead. I put my arms on the window sill letting my mind drift back, before the tragedy occurred.
I run the down stairs. I spin around the wooden post at the landing and race into the kitchen, my feet slapping against the cold hardwood floor. I rush up to my mother and pull her into a loving embrace. I look up into her ocean blue eyes and smile. My mother smiles back and puts her arms around me.
My mom grasps a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on it. She hands it to me while saying, "Good morning sweetie, have a good sleep?" I take a huge bite of the sandwich and chew on it, relishing the taste of the sweet jelly and smooth peanut butter.
"Mhmm," I say while chewing. I swallow and walk over to our dark oak table. I pull out a chair and sit down putting the plate on the table. I eat my sandwich while watching my mom clean up. She spins the lid on the jelly and peanut butter jars and brings them to the fridge. She places them both on the door. My mom has always been specific about where she puts things. She needs everything to be perfect.
"Mom, can I go to the old tree with Charlot?" From the corner of the room our black lab sits up wagging her tail, tongue sneaking out of her mouth. My mom grabs a cloth and wipes down the counter.
She turned to me a small smile on her face, "Sure honey, but don't be to long, OK?" I jump off my chair running to the front door, Charlot at my heels barking and hopping around. "Thanks mom!" I exclaim.
"I'll be back before three!' I yelled while running out the door. Charlot burst out the door and off our old wood porch. She zips through the grass, tail wagging furiously. She runs off, nose in the grass. I run through our lawn to the golden field ahead of me. Charlot sees me running and jogs to me tongue dangling out the side of her mouth. I reach the field of wheat, never slowing down, racing to the old willow tree. I speed up, anxious to get there to see him again. I run, my mind drifting.
I open my eyes, tears rolling down my cheeks, a warm wind blows through the window carrying with it the smell of smoke. I wipe away my tears yet again. I put the board back against the window blocking out the depressing world.
I walk into the hall, only glimpsing at my mothers door, I not dare walk in. I can't handle to think about it. I stand outside my room deciding what to do. There really isn't much that I can do besides stay alive and well, paint. I need to forget about the sad reality of the world for a while. I drag my feet across the hardwood floor ignoring the loud creeks they make. I reach another door and open it. This used to be my mothers work room, now its mine. All of this house is mine. I look at the wall across from the door and smile. I stare at the painting, my painting. The wall has been transformed into a cave, a sanctuary. A river flows through the dank space, carrying pristine water to an unknown destination. Separating the water is an island. The patch of land is bathed in a golden light that shines through from a crevice in the roof. On this island is what I wish was everywhere, life. This island is to me, the last bit of life left. Sprouting from the ground are red, blue, white, and purple flowers. A small tree sits in the middle of the island soaking in the precious sunlight. A deer is at the edge of the island sipping from the cool stream of water. Grass grows all around bringing a beautiful color to the landscape. Creatures small and large peer into the cave from the darkness. Sorrow fills their eyes, the river blocking them from a chance at life. A single person sits beside the small tree. Flowing blond hair falls from her face. She is wearing a white dress, a red flower behind her hair. A squirrel is sleeping at her side.
I walk over to my table and grab a brush. I scan my paint selection than glare at a crack in my river. I pick up a bottle of blue paint. I want my painting to be perfect, free from decay and destruction. I put a dab of paint on my brush and walk over to my canvas. I place my brush on the wall. A loud thud sounds downstairs making my heart skip a beat. In the process I drop my brush, it bounces off the ground leaving a blue tail as it rolls to a stop.
I walk into the hall, heart racing. What was that noise? Is there something here? I laugh at my question. Nothing is out there, nothing is anywhere. I walk down the creaky stairs the fear leaving me with each step. There is no life left in this world. I step on the landing and swivel around the same wooden post, now slightly rotted. I walk up to the front door and grasp the brass knob. I tug but the door doesn't budge. I tug again. The door opens, scratching against the floor. I look out the door at the all to familiar landscape. How long had it been since I went outside? Weeks? Months? All I know is that there is no point, there is nothing out there for me. I remember the noise and look around. I shrug, seeing nothing of interest.
'Must have been the wind,' I think to myself. I push at the door but it jams on the ground. I push harder but to no avail. I bend on to my knees and put my whole body against the door. I push as hard as I can, nothing. I slide down, defeated and look outside.
My head snaps down to our welcome mat. A lump grows in my throat and my heart beat quickens. I sit there waiting, hoping for it to move. On the welcome mat lay a green hummingbird. Its little wings snug against its body. Its head limp, resting against the bristly mat. I crawl over to the poor animal and scoop it up in my hands. I get up and walk back through the door, tears marking my path. The bird is cold, death wrapping its fingers around the small creature.
