Alone We Stand

The skies emitted a threatening spark of pale light, that lit up the black clouded skies as if mimicking the as equally awe aspiring, and not nearly as threatening illumination of an impossibly large firework. I I looked on at the pale light with a secret happiness, imagining the lone light build at the top and burst into thousands of smaller pale lights darting the evening sky like small diamond stars. I imagined the burst of grand thunder that followed the firework display as the loud sound effect that always accompanies fireworks. The noise that makes kids and adults alike standing too near, to cuff their ears but not waver their sight from the mystifying lights. I now imagine Sal, mom, Dad, And I sitting at the Bolavarden stadium a few years back…It was then that I saw my first and last firework, a lone red and green one. The last in an hour long fireworks display following new year. The emotions wash over me quickly, I recall the wonder, the spark, the true graduate of that last firework. My last proper firework that is. “What the hell are you doing outside!?” I snap out of the daze and turn on my heels away from the open door. “Oh uh… just going out to get some logs for the fire.” I stutter, Sal fixes on me with a look of true perplexity, we just got logs before the rains started, remember you and I went out?” I coughed discretely, feeling stupid, not wanting to tell Sal that looking at thunder storms is something I’ve been doing for a while now. “You know you really are annoying Sal.” I said with confidence, knowing all too well that this would make her forget all about the storm. Twenty minutes of lecture was far preferable to admitting the thunder storms calmed me down, make me remember mom and Dad. feeling babied and weak was the last thing I wanted to feel from my ego swelled elder sister. Salasia or Sal as has been her nickname since before I was born is my sister of 20, and my only living relative aside from our German Shepard Molly. Sal was skinny brunette with long greasy hair that most often was held up in a suffering small black hair tie. Sal and I have what would be called by our parents in the day, “a slight distaste for one another’s company,” but, would be more accurately described by us, and most everybody else that knew us back then as a blood deep loathing for one another that ignited when (and not limited to) the communication of one of us to the other. In our relationship suspicious breathing could be taken as a sign of aggression if not explained first. The fall of Earth and the loss of our parents did, as you can imagine, bridge our utter distain momentarily. But since moving to a cabin on the end of London, has seemed to ignite it once more, and this time with more passion than ever. Of late, especially this past week after I darted off into the woods a few days ago Sal has been on my tail harder than she ever had in the past, and in return so have I. “Now just screw off to bed or something!” she yells at the end of her lecture, I dared not argue with her this time, for fear that she may bring up my storm space out. Though after the lecture, I see no problem with leaving her with a biting punch to the gut by saying simply in reply “okay, whatever you say mom.” And head up the wooden stair to my equally wooden bed at the end of the hall, Sal’s enraged grumbling following me all the way. Back in my bedroom I sit on the cushioned warmth of the floral bedspread that came as a matching set with the other decor in the cabin. A pink floral dresser, rug, and lamp compose the decor that came so unpleasantly with the cabin called “Rose.” A window facing the woods is assessed above my bed, it doesn’t give nearly as good a view as the open door, a thin layer of humidity induced fog distorts my view, and large falling rain drops on the glass further distract my view. Along with the tacky furniture around the room lays scattered books, games, and devices I had taken from a few towns Sal and I visited right after the fall, back when we had the willingness to look for others, I recall the exact time Sal gave up looking for survivors, the day she forced me in our grey truck and away from the carnage of our dead friends and neighbors that awaited us cold, stiff, and foul in the towns near Avery Hill. A fluffy brown and black form rubs against my dangling legs. I smile and rub Molly’s smooth hair while looking out the window. Minutes pass, I count raindrop after falling raindrop on the foggy window, when suddenly I see something that makes my blood run cold with fear. A form? I rub the foggy window with the sleeve of my navy blue jacket to get a better look….yes…yes! A form! a human form! Outside waving to me, a red rain cloak draped around his shoulders, and head. Molly perks up and growls menacingly at the form in the window, not caring I scream at the top of my lungs “There’s a man outside!! Sal Go outside!!” I run downstairs, missing a step as I do and nearly falling. “Your just mad today aren’t you?” Sal chuckles loudly. “Go outside!” “If it’ll shut you up.” She says smiling. She then opens the large wood door quickly, a swirl of rain and leaves filling the house as it has with me. And exits out, turning to the left then the right, then stunned silence. “What the bloody…” “Sir hello!!” Sal runs to the man, I following breathlessly, also dissenting into the storm.