I’m a little unstable.  So what?  The doctors labeled me crazy.  They labeled me a danger to myself in every way imaginable.  Instead of normal remedies, they hooked me up to a comatose machine as an experimental form of treatment.  For unknown years I slept dormant in the dark until one day I woke up... alone, still.

               It appears that the world has in fact ended.

               The hospital was empty.  Not a doctor answered my yell and no nurse came running when I kept falling down.  I wobbled out of the psychiatric ward and into the ambulance garage.  A shining, white wall stood at each end.  This was it.  This was heaven.  That wall of light was the boundary between my dormancy and death.  Against all social warnings, I went to the light.  The sun was so bright.  Searing.  Everything was shining or reflecting off of something else.  My pupils just could not take it in.  I closed my eyes, collapsed and it went dark again.

               I awoke some time later, still on the ground of the parking lot which doesn’t look like the afterworld I may have seen when I died for a few seconds a long time ago.  The sun was reflecting off of the cars and signs and punishing my retinas unnaturally.  Surely my eyes have had to adjust by now.  I guess year’s worth of shut eyes would do that.  I sputtered to my feet with my remaining strength and stared at my reflection in a car mirror so I could remember my identity.

My hair was much longer now and seems to have lost most pigmentation in the blackness.  My eyes…they are white.  They used to be a pure blue.  Now, a ghostly white.  How is that possible?  What did the doctors do to me!  I was so disturbed that I just started running away.  I weaved through the stagnant cars and rushed away from the sight – as fast as my aching and confused body could take me.  I ran out of the parking lot and onto Main Street.  Where was everyone?  Not a soul.  Not a bird in the sky.  Everything was empty, blank yet full of light.

“What happened?” I asked aloud to the silence.

But then I heard a loud whistle that echoed off the buildings.  Then someone yelled, “Up here!”  My neck spun in every direction trying to find the voice echoing off the glass façades.  Finally I saw a person atop a six or seven story building nearby.  His figure stood no chance as it was fully silhouetted.  He shouted, “Stay there!” 

So I remained.

Ten minutes later a man appeared on the street and walked towards me.  A rifle slung across his back.  He kept walking closer and closer.  Was he an angel destined to explain this situation?  He smiled so wide.  He didn’t say a word until he just oddly hugged me and lifted me off the ground.  “It’s so good to see you!” he nearly shouted.

“Uh, do I know you?” I asked while looking into his white eyes.

“No!  That’s the beauty of it!”  He said as he put me down.  "What's your name?"

“I'm Amy, what’s going on?”

“I'm Rich and what do you mean?” he asked.

“Where is everyone?  Why is everything so bright?  And why did my eyes change colors?”

“The world ended.  Isn’t that apparent?”

“No.  Is this purgatory or limbo or something?”

He said, “I’m afraid not.  Why?”

 I didn’t answer him and shouted towards the unreal sky, “God, this isn’t funny!”

“Why would it be purgatory?  Well I guess that is a good question.  I’ve never asked myself that yet.”

I squinted as he shifted in place and the sun shined in my eyes.  “I was in a coma,” I semi-lied.

“Oh, I see.  Well welcome back to Earth.  Quite different than the one you left I’m sure,” he said.

“What happened?” I asked.  I had so many questions and I could barely muster a full-fledged sentence.

“You hungry?  Thirsty?”  I nodded my head.  “Follow me.  I’ll explain what I know.”  While I was following him into the building he descended from, he started saying, “Something collided with the sun.  Something big.  NASA didn’t even see the object coming it was moving so fast.  And within a day of that collision people started to disappear.”

“What?  How so?”

“They vanished.  It was a few people from around town and then millions.  Billions started to just disappear.  Overnight the population of this planet collapsed.  Soon I realized I had vanished too.”

I stopped walking.  I started to shake my head.  “No.  Can’t be.  This is just a strange comatose dream.”  He didn’t reply.

We kept climbing the stairs until a sign read ‘Roof Access.’  He spoke, “Whatever collided into the sun made globs of the sun fly out into our solar system.  Some of these fireballs got trapped in gravitational pulls of the planets and moons.  That one,” he pointed, “I think is stuck in our orbit.  I’ve stocked up on suntan lotion, don’t worry.”

“So that’s why it’s so bright?”

“There is no such thing as sundown anymore,” he revealed.  I just stared into the sky.  I couldn’t even tell what used to be the old sun.  There were just orbs of swirling masses of star orbiting Earth and the cosmos.  I suppose a geocentric universe isn’t as uncanny as it was once believed.  He turned to me, looked up at a chunk of the sun and said, “Welcome to the day.”

*****

               We went back downstairs a few flights to the room he claimed as his own. 

               “Here,” as he handed me water and some bread, which I soon found out was stale.  “Not much food left in the local grocery stores.  People must’ve purchased a whole lot when this first started.  I haven’t had the audacity to enter people’s homes yet.

               “So, explain to me why you are the only person here, other than my confused self?”

               He shrugged and said, “I can’t exactly.”  I didn’t like that answer but he changed the subject too fast.  “This was the year the Lions were going to win the Superbowl.”

               For a few more hours we talked about our lives before the event.  We both grew up in Detroit and as far as I could tell this is Detroit, just brighter.  Rich was five years the elder.  He had seen harsh times during recessions and I had seen enough to condemn me to insanity.  Our talking simmered down and I looked outside his apartment window.  He then said something that I latched onto, “I might be insane.”

               I asked, “Why?”

               “I’ve had no contact with people for years.  I’ve been seeing things, ghosts, if you will.  Passing through walls, silently traveling nowhere.  You’re the first tangible person I can touch.  You’re real, right?”  He looked at the wall as he spoke and it sure did send shivers down my spine.

               “I’m not convinced this is reality, Rich.  You’re nice and seem upbeat about you know, the apocalypse, but this is just a dream.  I’ll wake up soon.  They are probably unhooking me right now.”

               “Your naivety is at a level mine was just weeks ago, until I came up with this hypothesis.  You ready?  Your mind will blow up,” he smiled strangely.  I thought: my mind has already blown up.

               “Yeah, go on.”

               “Okay, well.  Libraries still exist, power doesn’t.  I assume the suns fried everything.  Well I read up on time-space movement.  And while no scientist provided me with a breadcrumb trail to a phenomenon such as this, I have a theory.  People started disappearing.  We both know that?”

               “Sure…”

               “Okay, and we both know the sun exploded and sent mini-suns everywhere somehow, right?”

               “If you say so.”

               He continued, “Yes, so I have figured that this explosion distorted the very fabric of time-space on an exponential scale.  But this explosion happened for people at different times.  The explosion was just that, that vast.”

               “Then why are our hair and eyes white!” I shouted, pissed at this nonsense.

               “Because we are ghosts.  In someone else’s dimension, we are ghosts.”

               “I’m out buddy,” I said.

               “Amy, wait!” he called.

               I stomped out of his apartment and banged on other doors, “Open up!  Prove this idiot wrong!  Come on 8f!  Open your door!”

               “Amy, calm down.  Please.  This is a lot of noise.  It’s been quite quiet for the last few years and it’s hard to adjust to your screaming and banging.”

               “My screaming and banging?  Screw you!  I’ve been in a coma for who the hell knows how long, and all I heard was silence.  I want to make some friggin’ noise thank you very much!”  I banged on other doors and then stomped down the stairs for a few floors.  I went to the lobby where the front receptionist should be.  I banged on the bell and it twanged against the marble floor and walls.  “Can anyone hear me!  I’m being abducted by a psycho!”

               “Amy!”

               “What!” I yelled at him.

               “You’re bleeding,” he said and pointed to my arm where I must’ve scratched it in the tantrum.  A few, small red streaks had smeared on my forearm.

               “So, I’m fine.  No pain.  This isn’t real.”

               He took out a knife which he conveniently had on his belt and cut his finger.  “That’s called adrenaline.  Look.”

               His blood was white.

               “Nope.  I’m done.”  I pouted out of the lobby and into the lower-city streets – where good men have died to save the bad.  I saw a parked police car.  Its black paint has even faded from the sun(s).  I saw the hospital, untouched by the end of the world.  The windows glistened like huge raindrops on a pane.  I remember the pain of the first needle going into my neck.

               “Amy.  Your blood is red.  This is amazing.”

               “No, this is sick that you’re so enticed by my blood,” I shouted back.  “It proves that I am alive and you are…”

               “Are what? “

               I shook my head and then looked to my right for dramatic effect.  But then I saw what he was talking about, a whisper of a soul.  A person for sure.  I made a noise and ran in the direction of the entity.  “Wait!”

               “It’s no use!” Rich called at me.

               I ran after the ghost, no, human.  It was a perfectly healthy human being.  I kept telling myself that as I pursued the transparent figure.  “Wait!” I yelled again.

               He turned around and his ghostly, white eyes stared into mine.  Then he made a motion like he was shielding his eyes and body from something.  His transparent-gray legs shifted in place and one lifted off the ground.  Then, he was gone.

               “Did he say anything?”

               “No.  But he looked frightened,” I said.

               “What do you mean?”

               I shook my head and said with the attitude I used to have when I was fourteen, “I don’t know.  Why would I know?”

               We eventually returned to his room.  I had nowhere to go.  I was exhausted from all the time on my feet after being in a state of dormancy for so long.

*****

               In the middle of the ‘night’, with darkened windows and a light snore, I awoke to sliver of light poking through a hole in the blanket over the window.  I was restless.  Hours later, around what would probably be 8 am, I heard him yell, “Aha!  I got it!”

               “What the hell?” I asked dazed.

               “Well, see.  You remember Hiroshima and Nagasaki?  The first atomic bombs used on humans.  When they exploded they left shadows of humans on the ground – burnt, ghostly black remnants.  What if this magnitude of an explosion did just that, but left video?  Maybe video isn’t the best name for it, but, but the last few moving moments of a person’s life before they vanished.”  He sounded so happy in his theorizing.

               “Whatever dude,” I said – too cool for this science shit.

               “Humor me, Amy.”

               “No,” I said.

               He stood up with violence and said, “Fucking humor me!”

               “Calm down Rich.  It’s too early.”

               He rummaged to the window and ripped the black blanket apparatus away from it and shouted, “It may be four pm for all I know.  It may be too late!  Too late to get home.”

               He just may be insane.  Worse than me.  Hell, I’d even consider myself sane since I’m the only one who knows this is all a mirage. 

               “Home,” I said.  “Well, I’m going to go home.  If this is a dream, I will know because details will be different in my home.  I was kinda OCD.”  Is.  I stood up and exited the apartment.  He was following me.

               “Amy, I ask you, please don’t go into any homes.  We don’t know what might be in them.”

               I shook my head and kept walking.  Every now and then I turned around and he was still cautiously following behind.  He had his rifle out in front.  I’m no ghost expert, but I don’t think guns scare the dead.  Then we both saw it.

               A crowd of translucent people smeared across each other – growing more opaque as the figures overlapped.  “Whoa.” I said.

               They were moving in random directions and then they all stopped.  They stared at the sky and shielded their faces.  A few figures started running in the direction they were originally heading in, but soon they all disappeared in a violence of mist.  At the corner of 17^th and DeLaney Avenue, the world ended for a crowd of human beings…years ago.  Where the hell am I?

*****

               About an hour later – if an hour is still an hour in this apparent time warp – I entered the suburban neighborhood I grew up and grew unstable in.  “This is my middle-school crush’s house.  Paul.  In high school he turned into a total…” I trailed off.

               “Total what?” he asked.  I jumped because I forgot he was there.  He was quite quiet compared to his outburst just earlier.

               “Nothing.”  I remembered Paul went to boot camp for going insane on a teacher – everything but the punches.  I rounded the block and soon found myself at my own stoop – 72 Richmond Street.  Maybe my mother would open the now faded brick-colored front door and extend the tender hand I used to ignore.  Maybe she’d regret all the shit she put me through and apologize for pretty much depositing me in that psychiatric ward.  I opened the door.

               “Don’t do it Amy!”

               “Why?”

               He didn’t respond.  As I crossed the threshold he said, “I’m not coming in there to save you.”

               “Shut up,” I fired back.  How could a spirit save mine?

               I crept into the foyer and shut the door.  That one laminated wood floorboard next to the stairs that creaked still greeted me as always although the sound seemed muffled.  Decorations were in their proper places – neatly strewn on the walls.  I rounded the corner and entered the family room.  Too many times have I sat on that couch and endured a scolding for drugs, cuts, you name it.  I’d fold my arms, lower my head and let my hair cover my eyes.  I’d scorn the coffee table in front of me and never make eye contact with the people yelling at me, the people who truly loved me.  I saw our last Christmas family photo.  I was the only one without a smile.  My brother, three years younger, had already begun to take after me.  If he still exists in this dream-world somewhere, sometime I hope he is alright.  The kitchen was barren and bright.  Light shed in from every window.  Someone was having lunch.  There was a half-eaten sandwich.

               “Dad?  Mom?  Anyone here?” I shouted.  “Andy?”  Someone was having lunch I mentally repeated.  Maybe they were in the basement or garage and couldn’t hear me.  I raced into the garage first and the Ford Explorer had transformed into a dust collector.  I shut the door and raced towards the basement.  I went to turn on the light but of course it didn’t work.  Silly me.  I stomped down the wooden stairs into the basement.  “Mom?” I called again.

               Then I saw my bed, unassembled and leaning against the wall.  Irked, I raced back upstairs and then up one more flight.  My door was shut.  I opened the door and it was blank.  The walls were pure white and the carpeting had been ripped up.  I had been erased.  I felt something wet on my cheek.  I had taught myself how not to cry over the years – how to hold back the human emotion and cry my tears on a blade.  It seems I have forgotten the methodology to that madness.

               I found a pair of scissors in the linen closet and went back into my former room.  I knelt on the wooden floorboards and peaked at my scarred wrists.  I scratched an apology into the light-brown floorboards beneath my bent body.  When I was done I blew away the sawdust and stood over my work. 

I’m sorry.  I miss you all.  Please wake me up.

–Amy.

               I sighed, left the door open and exited the crumbled abode.  Rich was sitting on the curb and stood up when he heard me.  “What did you find?”

               “Nothing.  Let’s go.”

*****

               Upon reaching his floor, I just kept climbing.  “Where you going?” he asked.

               I paid no heed to his question because he wasn’t real.  I’m sick of this ghost shit.  I’m sick of this limbo-esque environment and I just want to wake up.  I figured a big ‘jolt’ would do just that.  If not, then I’ll never know.  I pushed through the sign that read ‘Roof Access’ and stomped towards the edge.

               He yelled again, “Amy!  Why are you so close to the edge?”

               “Because I’m going to wake myself up!  I’m sick of your science fiction bullshit.  I’m jumping and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t watch,” I screamed.

               “I wish this was fiction Amy.  Real life is lonely.”

               “Well I’d rather be hooked up to that coma machine instead of in this nightmare.”

               “Amy, come on.  Please.  You’re the first living, breathing person I’ve seen in years.  Killing yourself is selfish,” he pled.

               “Selfish!  Fuck you.  Jump with me then.”

               “No.”

               I asked, “Why?”

               “I may be a bit psychotic from being alone for so long but I know this is real.  Strange, odd, abnormal, but this is real.  I witnessed the sun explode.  I’ve seen the day invade the night for good.  I was there when people started to disappear and I will be here when people start to reappear, like you did.”

               “You’re still sticking to that, huh?” I asked.

               “Yes, because its truth.”

               “We’ll see.  If I go splat, then well, you were right,” I argued back.  “Good luck to you Rich.  Maybe I’ll see you on the other side,” I said and took a few tiptoes to the edge.

               I looked down and then I felt impact.  He had tackled me and then started to drag me away from the ledge.  “No!  Get off!” I screamed.

               “You’re not leaving me alone again,” he said and straddled me.  I tried to roll my body to toss him off but he had at least forty pounds on me.

               “Let me go!”

               Then he punched my head.

*****

               I awoke in dark; I was used to that.  I was handcuffed to some sort of pipe that extended the height of the wall.  The handcuffs were probably from that police car in the street below.  For the next few days he kept me locked up for my own protection.  I can’t even escape from a make believe realm.  He came and went, running errands across town probably searching for people that weren’t there.  Whenever he left I rattled the pipe I was hooked around to try to break it.  I would work up a sweat and when I heard his monotonous footsteps I’d refrain from my signature tantrum.

Finally, one afternoon, or morning, or night, I clattered it just enough and the pipe broke from the cheap caulk that held it to the ceiling.  The pipe tilted just enough and after struggling a little bit more, I managed to slide free.  Luckily he only handcuffed one hand to the thing.  I searched the small apartment for the key, hoping he just chucked it carelessly on a countertop.  I was looking through the bedroom when I heard him unlocking the front door.  I looked around in a panic and thanked the suns for his is paranoid behavior.  There was a pistol on the nightstand.  I grabbed it, knew to check for a safety and pointed it at the bedroom threshold.

“Whoa,” he said as he entered the bedroom.

“Give me the key,” I said.

“That gun isn’t loaded,” he said.  I aimed just to his left and pulled the trigger.  A bullet sailed towards the drywall and he flinched.

“Uh-huh.  Give me the key,” I repeated.  He reached for his pistol.  “Don’t touch your belt Rich.  I’m leaving.”

“I can’t let you do that Amy.”

“I will shoot you Rich.  I don’t think the cops will be investigating anything anytime soon,” I replied.

Then we both weren’t alone.  Another person appeared in the room without ever entering.  A white ghost knelt on the right side of the bed and looking towards the window.  She looked to the other side of the bed real quick and then back at the window.

“No.  No!” he screamed.

“Who is she?”

“No.  You’re not real!” he screamed again.

“Who is she Rich?”

“She’s my wife,” he said with tremors.

The ghastly figure stood up and hovered towards the window.  She stared back at the bed with longing, white eyes.  I knew who she was looking at.  When the sun split, so did her physical union with Rich.  She vanished at a separate time.  And soon she disappeared.

I looked back at Rich and he was crying clear tears from those vacant eyes.  He pulled his gun from his belt.  He couldn’t take seeing that.

“Wait!”

And then he put a bullet through his neck.  The white blood pooled beneath his collapsed soul.

*****

               Later that day, after I covered his body and left a note should anyone else appear, I headed home.  I set my room back up after plenty of struggling to get that bed up two flights of stairs.  Finally, the next ‘night’ I slept in my own bed.  The pistol rested on my nightstand should I relapse or grow lonely or should I have to fend off Casper.

               A few days later I was walking the street, just wondering if my family is doing the same thing in a different dimension.  I turned the block and saw someone in the middle of the street walking away.  He was not transparent.  I yelled, “Hey!”

               He turned around and stared at me.  “Where is everyone?” he asked.

               “I can’t be sure,” I said as we walked closer towards each other.  “Did you just get here?”

               “Here?  Where’s here?  A few minutes ago I was pushing that cart of groceries home at night and now it’s so bright.  It can’t be morning already.”

               “Tell me what you remember about the world just before everything vanished.”

               He looked confused but then explained.  “The news was warning us about some sort of strange solar activity.  It was all anyone could talk about.  I was getting groceries so we’d be supplied should something happen.  Did something happen?  Why is it so bright?”

               I smiled, extended my hand and said, “Welcome to the day.”

***************        

If you are reading this, open the safe please.

If you are reading these pages, I hope you realize that the world never ended, only changed.  I am leaving this booklet, this diary if you will, in this unlocked safe on the stoop of the Detroit Parliament building until found so you may feel a little less lost.  I live at 72 Richmond Street.  Please find me so we can continue the search for others.

Maybe one day, the many different timelines that humanity has been spread across will realign.  Maybe, I’ll even get to meet you. 

          And if you are new to this strange, bright world, welcome to the day.

                                        ~Amy Reincoff

 

 

                                            

P.S. They are harmless, but watch out for the ghosts.