Young Writers Society

I woke up to a loud slam. I was still by the window. I must’ve passed out. There was another slam, and I had no idea what it was, but then I remembered… “Marcy!” I yelled. I ran out of my room, and into the living room. I stopped and listened. Another slam. It was coming from the kitchen. I turned the corner in the kitchen and saw Marcy. What is she doing? She jumped up like she was trying to reach something, and when she came back down, her feet slammed on the floor.

“Marcy?” I called. She jumped back as if she was startled by me.

“Oh… Good morning, Ren.” She said.

“What are you doing…?”

“Oh… I’m hungry…” I looked up to see what she was trying to get, and saw a box of crackers. I grabbed them and handed them to her. She smiled and ran off into her room. I shut the cabinet door, and grabbed an apple from a bowl. I sat on the couch, and started messing with a radio I’ve been trying to get to work.

Without electricity, there’s not much to do. You can’t play outside anymore or go to the mall. It’s too dangerous outside, and the mall doesn’t exist here. This is how I pass time.

“….be here soon!” I could hear Marcy’s voice through the wall. I wonder what she’s talking about… Ren, don’t. Let her have a little privacy. I should… At least that’ll be something she has to herself. But then I could hear her crying… I stood up, and walked over to her door. It was slightly open, so I stood there and looked in.

She was sitting in a corner talking to a stuffed bear that was missing an eye. Her face was puffy, her cheeks were wet, and her eyes were red.

“Y-You think Daddy’s coming back… right?” She quietly asked. She sat there waiting for the bear to answer, but it quietly sat there quietly, and eventually flopped over. Her lips started to quiver, and tears swelled up in her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hands, and began to sob. To me, the muffled cries sounded like she was screaming for help. I walked in, and scooped her up in my arms, and she bawled. Tears soaked my shoulder, and her sobs seemed to grow louder. I patted her back, and walked into the living room. I walked back and forth, hoping it would help her calm down, but she seemed to be getting worse.

Ren, do something. Remember what you did for Jordan. Jordan was my little sister. Whenever she’d cry, I’d sing for her, and she’d stop right away. Will that work for Marcy…? Worth a shot.

So I started singing the lullaby I sang to Jordan. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are gray…” Her sobs grew quiet. Keep going Ren. “You’ll never know dear, how much I love you.” Her hands softly gripped my shirt. “Please don’t take my sunshine away…”

“…my mommy used to sing that to me…” she said in a quiet whisper. She picked her head up off my shoulder. “Did your mom sing it to you?”

“Yeah, she did. And I used to sing it to my little sister whenever she was sad.” I replied.

“Ren?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to go look for Daddy anymore…”

“What? Why not Marcy?”

She wiped her eyes and said, “We don’t need to. Daddy visited me last night…” I was just about to say something, then she continued, “He said bye to me, and that he had to go away for a long time…”

I never believed in those last goodbye dreams. But Marcy seemed to believe in it, so I felt like I was starting to as well.

2 hours later…

Marcy and I headed out again. She had her little bag and her stuffed bear that she called Stuffy, and I had my backpack and pistol. We went down the block, and I helped her up over a tree that had fallen. I climbed over after her, and we continued. We walked over to an apple orchard, and started picking apples. I remember doing this as a kid. When I was small enough for Dad to lift me up on his shoulders, and I’d pick the biggest apple I could get my hands on. And Mom would make apple pie when we got home. And Kellin would play house with me… even though, at the time, he was 16 and I was 5.

I felt a tear go down my cheek and I wiped it away, hoping Marcy didn’t see it. I looked over and saw her playing with her bear and weaving in and out of the trees. I laughed, and went back to picking apples. Today seemed calmer than any other day I’ve been through. The light breeze in the trees carried the sweet scent of apples and leaves.

Suddenly, I felt something tugging at my pant leg. I looked down. “Marcy?” There was fear in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” She pointed to a path that was down the middle of the orchard. I walked over to it, but Marcy stopped me. “What?”

“I saw someone! They have a big gun!” Marcy whispered. I slowly walked down to the last row of trees and sat behind one. I peeked out from behind the tree and saw two men walking down the path. One man was about my age with dirty blonde hair and tan skin. He had on sunglasses, jeans, and a t-shirt. He was carrying a shotgun. The other man was a little older. He had dark brown hair, a beard, and he was too far away to see his eyes. He was tan, muscular, and tall. He had a machine gun. They walked closer, and I grabbed Marcy and pulled her towards me. They can’t see us if we stay right here and keep quiet… It’s either that… or die…