Mad World

The earth smelled of ash and decay. Rubble dotted the ground everywhere. I was cautious as I stepped over ragged rocks and shards of glass.

What you might think was that a natural disaster had occurred. No. This time the damage was inflicted by Man's own hand.

One moment the sun is shining and everyone's happy and as ignorant as ever, and the next the economy crashes. People are fired from their jobs, which means they can no longer support their family. The school board cuts back classes from schools to save money until nobody can afford a school at all, so they just get rid of it all together. The rich are hunted down by mobs and killed.

My older brother said God had been warning us since the beginning, and that sin would get the best of us until Man destroyed itself from the inside out. I told him there is no God, for if there was, he would not have left us in such deep despair. We beseeched him, and he turned away from us in our time of need.

By the time I reached my destination, it had started to pour. Hard. I slipped on the wet mud and slithered through two giant rocks where I fell down a dark tunnel.

It smelled like an overflowing septic tank down where I was. I stood up and felt my way around the room I intentionally stumbled into.

I grabbed the box of matches I stuffed into my pocket earlier and with muddy fingers I tried to light one. The first three I tried snapped in half, but with the fourth I was able to spark a flame and look around.

My old classroom.

Most of the school was rubble now. The walls and ceiling caved in, partially underground now because of the collapsed basement.

I found the school about a week ago and have been coming here every day since. I gathered some candles I could find and set them up around the room. I took my time lighting each and every one of them.

It's been ten years, but I still remember this place as if it was only yesterday I was sitting in Mrs. Bower's English class. I dreaded her class, but right now he seemed more like haven than anything I knew.

I picked up a candle and held it to the walls as I looked at the posters and pictures. My hand slid across the rough wallpaper. There was a section of it that was torn away, as if someone had punched a hole through the wall. I shoved my hand in the empty space. Only it wasn't empty.

I gasped at the treasures I retrieved. Moldy cheese and crumbled up pieces of bread. I swallowed everything whole. It burned a bit as I forced it down my throat dry.

"Who are you?" a harsh voice asked behind me. I froze where I stood. Slowly, I reached my hand into my pocket and fingered the knife there. Before I could pull it out to defend myself I felt a sharp jab at my back and a hand around my throat.

"Speak," he commanded.

"Lilac," I said, my voice holding a slight quaver in it.

"Lilac," he repeated. "What are you doing here?"

I was able to tear myself out of his grip and spin to face him. The knife in my pocket was now out and pressed against to his jugular. He glared down at me with black eyes through dirt-caked hair. He was about two heads taller than me and had a strong build. No doubt that if this meeting came to a fight, he'd easily take me down.

He pulled his neck across the blade, drawing his own blood. With his thumb he swiped some up and licked the blood up with his tongue.

"Lilac," he repeated again. "Do you plan on staying for dinner?" He leered at me, a hungry look in his eyes.