story 1 - The end of the world
It’s my 16th birthday and this quarantine is the end of the world.
Think about it. No driving to school with my new license. No school day with balloons, flowers, somebody bringing me a coffee drink, teachers letting me slide and everybody saying, “Happy Birthday.” No ditching campus with friends to get a decent lunch. No Starbucks run after school. No party with my best friends. No staying out late with my boyfriend and not getting in trouble from my parents because it’s my DAY.
Like I said, it’s the end of the world.
story 2- Long before
My Grandma, your Great-Great Grandma, she told me. About 100 years ago, long before you were born, the virus came and life shut down. Everybody strayed home, didn’t go to work, school, restaurants or shopping.
She said it wasn’t that tough until Grandpa got sick. He was tested and she was praying that it wasn’t the virus. It was. He had to go to the hospital. No visitors, not even Grandma. She got updates saying he was fading and she knew before the final call arrived.
I can tell you the sadness of loss never left her.
“…sharp knife and cheap booze, maybe drugs. So much blood.” The EMT shook his head while transferring the patient to the ER staff.
“But, he cut off his own hand?”
“He mumbled something about, “How do you know when the germs are gone?” I think he passed out trying to cut off the other one. Wouldn’t have made it here if his sister hadn’t checked in on him.”
“I think she’s brought him in before. Some mental health thing.”
“Sad stuff. She told us he’s never really returned from that tour of duty in Afghanistan.”
Always knew I came to “The Villa” to die. The virus ramped up that reality. We’ve been designated a hot spot. I want to see my kids and grandkids. They say no one’s coming or going.
We fly the clubhouse flag at half-mast when a resident dies. Usually happens once a week. Seems like it’s down more than up now.
Schultz started a pool. You pick an hour block each day predicting when someone will die. I made a couple hundred bucks on Tuesday.
Sounds morbid, but wait until you hit this stage, see what you do for fun.
Fiction 101: The goal is to tell a story in 101 words or less.