I woke groggily to the rising sun peeking around my curtain. I felt as if I’d only just fallen asleep. I pulled the pillow over my head to drown out the inevitability of daytime for a few moments more. My head spun and my body felt strangely light. I felt jetlagged. It was a harsher punishment than I deserved for only three beers the night before.
I heard a commotion on the street. Frantic chatter. Bloody neighbours, they were always gossiping. Last week it was the unregistered car taking up two whole parking spaces in our Inner Sydney street. The week before it was the invasive aroma of the local Nepalese restaurant’s signature dish. What good was living alone if I still couldn’t get any peace?
I sat up in bed, wondering what this week’s drama would be. Waiting impatiently for my dizziness to subside, I grabbed my phone and glanced at the time. 1:04 am. I started scrolling mindlessly.
Then it registered. Frantically, I checked the clock. My heart nearly gave out right then and there. It was 1:04 am. 1:04 and the sun was rising. It was actually happening. Nobody believed it would. Just like they hadn’t believed in global warming a few decades ago. Bloody fools. The Earth’s rotation was accelerating. And it had already gained enough speed to bring the sun up four hours early.
I checked my feed. America had been plunged into daytime darkness. Volcanos were erupting everywhere. Northern Australia had started flooding. I was no physicist, but my knowledge of centrifugal force was adequate to confirm my future’s brevity.
I scrambled downstairs and threw open the medicine cabinet. I was living my recurring nightmare. It was sickening. In the dream, I’d always opted for the easy way out. To end it before it ended. But now that I was staring at my stash of pills, it didn’t seem so easy. I agonised over the decision for the swiftest of eternities. Then I closed the cabinet.
I took my terrified curiosity to the street, where weeping families stood clutched in tight bundles. Some shook their heads in denial, others shook their fists in blame. In that moment, us meagre humans were more connected than we’d ever been. And briefly, we shared an enlightened sense of how things could have been. Then, as rocks and sticks around us began to float and the sun rose over our heads, we were silently humble.
Boom! Crack! The dreadful sound of our Lonely Planet ripping open shredded my eardrums and broke my heart. A bicycle fell into the void along with the lamppost it was chained to. People’s mouths widened but I heard no screams. Humankind hadn’t been afforded the time for emotional adjustment. But following our long history of arrogance, we didn’t really deserve such concessions.
As I slowly drifted from the ground like a helium balloon, surrounded by dust and shards of Earth, my only regret was that I had no hand to hold.
Copyright © 2021 Jessica Horn
I wrote this story for the January 2021 Furious Fiction competition held by the Australian Writer’s Centre. The criteria were:
Please feel free to follow me on Instagram
Pint Size Prose 