The Dying Ember

2 Days Left

Dear Future Civilization:

It's me, Ember.
I tried to call an ambulance, but they're all busy elsewhere. In the bigger cities, people are starting to riot. They're blaming the government for the recent acts of nature. The government can't control the sky, people! I think they just need to release their anger, their fear. They know what's coming, but they want to blame anyone other than themselves.

My mom has taken a turn for the worse. She can't get out of bed. She has been puking uncontrollably. Last night it was food, then in the wee hours of the morning it was just water. This afternoon it has turned to blood. It's horrible to see her in pain. Now I know what it feels like to be a mother with a sick child. The feelings tugging at my heart are the same.

And though she doesn't want to admit it, I've seen my friend coughing then wiping something crimson on her pants.

My dad called me from New York. He said everything is so quiet. A bunch of people evacuated -- to where, he doesn't know. Either way, there is no safe place on the earth anymore, so those people aren't escaping anything. He started crying when I told him about Mom. He wished he could come home, but the airports are all closed; no one's flying anywhere in this unpredictable weather. Lastly, before he hung up, he said, "Tell your mom I love her. I love you both with all my heart. Be strong, and I'll see you again someday."

Then I started crying. I still am. I told my mom what he said, but she has become delusional and doesn't even remember having a husband. I wonder if she will have forgotten me by tonight.

It's almost here. I can feel it. I know I'm not safe in my home in my little town, but there is no other place I'd rather be.