The Sickness

How the world may end from a little girl's point of view.

Ella wheezed out a shaky breath, staring at the clouds. They are a strange greyish blue, almost like the sky’s blue, but not quite.

She remembers the sky the day Mama started coughing. It was cloudless. She’d stared then, too.

The day Carmen and Carter, her twin best friends, both got scratchy throats, they were hanging out at the Commons. The three of them had been lounging on grass, when Carmen complained that she needed a cough drop. Minutes later, Carter’s voice faded at random intervals until it hurt too much to continue. That was the last day she remembers seeing them.

The night Mama was rushed to the hospital, Daddy had told her to watch Jesebelle. Jesebelle was only four years younger than Ella. Maybe that’s why she got sick so easily.

Before Ella can continue her train of thought, a rumbling cough attacks her throat, hurting all the way down to her chest. Ella can taste something metallic in her mouth. It will be over soon, she knows. Trying to smile, she wonders if she should be proud to be the last eleven year old girl.

Of course, that is just a guess. But the last person she saw was Mrs. Oakley from down the street.  Ella hadn’t seen her shambling around the streets again, so she knew that the old woman was gone.

Ella can hear the soft tapping of rain getting louder. She tries to let a sigh escape her mangled throat. The water feels good on her pale, pale skin.

When Jessie, or Jesebelle, died, Daddy had gotten so sad. It was just the two of them then. But hours later, he’d began to cough. And when he left her, the world left too. Daddy had only been gone for a day now. The sickness had begun to move much quicker as time wore on, so Ella knew she had a matter of hours if not minutes left.

With a sudden burst of energy, she manages to roll off of the grassy sidewalk and into the street, ignoring the little red droplets dripping from her mouth and chin. Across the street, an older man lays strewn across his wicker chair on his porch. She focuses on him as she writhes with coughs that rip up her throat.

Ella feels something snap and then everything begins to fade out. The last thing she feels is the itch on the back of her throat. Just as that disappears too, she manages a soft smile.

Hello Mama, Daddy, Jessie. 

Author's Note

I have a sore throat...
and I'm a procrastinator, so here is the result.
**Two Years Ago- OMG WE GONNA DIE WTFF OH NO'ZZ
**Four Months Away From Supposed Apocalypse-...meh.

Reviews

[Rose of Gondor]

lol...I LOVE your author's note almost as much as I love the story itself.

[Amanda]

Why thank you:)