MAS Story Writers Blog

bo(u)lder.

Posted in Uncategorized by jon reine on November 14, 2009

He set his book bag on the counter and poured himself some juice.  He suddenly felt a disquieting silence and realized he was the only one home.  He called up the stairs, “Hello?  Mom?  Dad?  Jenny?”  No response.  He went outside.  Both cars were parked in the driveway.  Chris began to panic.  Where was everyone?  He thought about Sunday School.  He thought about all of the bad things he had done.  They’d been raptured.  He’d been left behind.

He did his best to remain calm.  He knew he had to get to the mountains.  He didn’t remember why.  He just knew there would be bloodshed and he needed to get somewhere safe.  There would be others like him.  There had to be.  He could wait this out and maybe see his family.  He wouldn’t take the Mark of the Beast – that was certain.  Maybe he’d get his head chopped off, but he had to remember it would only hurt for a second and then he could see them all again.  And Jesus.  He could tell Jesus how sorry he was.  Weird, though.  He never heard trumpets.  He thought for sure that he would hear trumpets.

He went into the ktichen and pulled the bologna and squeeze butter out of the fridge.  He made sandwiches out of the entire loaf of bread that was next to the toaster, on the kitchen counter.  He put the sandwiches back into the bread bag and tied it with the twisty.  He put some apples in a cooler, along with some capri-sun juice pouches, the rest of the fruit roll-ups and the sandwiches.  He got his fishing pole out of the basement and went got his baseball cards from his room.  These would definitely be worth something.  Perhaps he could trade the cards for some guns or something if he needed to.  He grabbed a flashlight and his Pacman sleeping bag.  He put some clothes in a bag and his Bible – to figure out what as gonna happen next.

He would have to drive.  It was too far to walk.  He found a pair of keys in one of the kitchen drawer.  He had had this recurring nightmare for as long as he could remember.  His family would be together in his front yard when he realized they were gonna let him drive the car all by himself.  Excited, He’d get behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition, and drive away.  He turned around and could see his family and friends waving through the back window.  Then a sinking feeling took over.  He suddenly realized that he no longer had control over the car.  He tried to stop it, but it kept on.  He was bound, with the distance ever-widening between him and the people he loved.  It was terrifying.  He realized, in his dream, that he would never see his family again.  At that point he would wake up.

He walked out to the garage, determined to be brave.  There would be others.  We would help each other.  He opened the trunk and put the cooler, fishing pole, sleeping bag, baseball cards, flashlight and spare clothing next to the spare tire and jumper cables.  he opened the front car door, sat behind the steering wheel and started to cry.  The crying turned to sobbing.  The sobbing turned to despair.  If only he had spent more time with his church friends instead of his school friends.  His school friends were cooler, but his church friends were now in heaven.  And they each had their own mansion.  Probably with swimming pools.  Maybe he could help some of his school friends if they made it into the mountains.

That’s when he heard voices.  Familiar voices.  They were getting nearer.  He jumped out of the car and walked defiantly out of the garage.  It was his mother and his sister.

“WHERE WERE YOU?”  He yelled.

“We decided to walk today,” explained his mother, with a lilt.

“YOU NEVER WALK!” He screamed and shook with tears.

In that moment, Chris became all the things he was sorry for a few moments ago, but he was glad for it.

He still had time.

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