Mirabilia.

Area 27 | Section 1 - Part One

I rise. A faint, but tropical breeze rushing over my face. I spring up suddenly with a perplexed expression holding my eyes. Disoriented, I stand up and walk towards the open window. To my surprise, I am met with tall palm trees, accompanied by a salty ocean wind and the roaring breaths of the ocean.

Stunned, I start jogging from my room all the way up the winding staircase to the open room now filled with nobody. No familiar faces. No yelling. No arguing. Just the quiet noise of my breaths as my chest rises and falls.

I rush outside, expecting to be met with the usual quiet town and tree lined streets, but instead I come face to face with an oceanside city. Stores upon stores frame the sand kissed streets that merge their way to a beach. And not only is it quiet, but there are what looks to be people.

But, these people...

They do not have a face; or any features, for that matter.  They're almost like three dimensional shadows. A walking silhouette. I try to speak to a few of them. Say something. Even a full introduction stating who I am and asking what this place is. But I am greeted by silence as these walking shadows fill the bustling streets soundlessly. Nothing but the oceanic waves echo in my ears.

Fear and panic kicks in, slowly boosting my adrenaline as the minutes pass. I have zero idea where I am. Why I am here. How any of this is possible. I find my way back to our small townhome that looks quite out of place due to its present surroundings and try to think of what else I can possibly do to figure out what's going on. My heart beat finally falls into correct rhythm once I am inside and alone.

Strangely, as I reach my bedroom I find a map and a tattered, worn out leather backpack strewn across my bed. With eyebrows furrowed, I gently pick up the odd map and find at the top written in all bold, "AREA 27 SECTION 1". I try to piece together what those 4 intimidating words written so clearly at the top of the guide could possibly mean. I shake my head, still ignorant to the title, and scan over the paper in my hands. One little star is highlighted towards the bottom right hand corner with a red line tracing back to the left meeting another star. A bigger, more highlighted one. I squint to read the small, poorly written words out beside it.

"You are here", I recite out loud to myself.

For some very, peculiar reason I feel like it's almost as if I'm meant to take the trip, following the road to wherever the golden star is marked. I weigh my options. Yes, I should probably stay here, in the safe haven of my house, but what if the way to figure out what's going on is to make the journey? Judging from the map, it would only take me an hour or so on foot considering I can't drive. Maybe there would be other cities on the way?

I push away the eccentric thoughts for now, focusing my attention to the untouched leather bag still on my lavender bedspread. I slowly pick it up feeling that there's contents on the inside then slowly dump the bag of its objects. Out lays a journal, some pens, a yellow bandana, and a rope.

Biting my lip with a torn expression upon my face, I step back and start pacing, wondering what I should do. Could I potentially get killed? Yes. Do I have any idea who else I could even talk to here? No. Is it better than being stuck here for the rest of my life? Yes. The last question I asked myself suddenly made my heart drop. What if I was actually stuck here, by myself, forever, the last responsive human being on Earth? What if I have to accept the fate of having to be self-dependent and relying solely on what little I know about being alone?

But then I stop.

I remember I have mostly been solitary my whole life. Not speaking to many people. Making myself be happy and live with the abandonment of others. I am Hazel and I am not going to let myself show weakness. I turn to look to myself in the mirror. My green eyes radiating with energy and spunk.

I quickly turn back to my bed and pack the belongings back into the brown leather pack. I get dressed, tying the bright yellow bandana around my sandy crimped hair.

I take the journal out once more before setting off to my new life and scribble down:

"  July 23, 2018

It's approximately 9:28 a.m. & I feel alive. "