March 12th
Well, to commemorate the stupendous achievement of Ciscocat resident psychics, at predicting the End of the World to be March 12,
I have written a short story... I don't want to give away the ending... so read it. And pretend that you don't know anything about
the End of the World.
"March 12"
By Mark Abbott
I awoke with a cough; A grating, hacking, menacing cough. I rolled over and saw the dawn break through tiny, makeshift curtains. The clock told me lies, how could it be the time his red face told? I shifted, sat up, and realized the immense thirst that dried my mouth. It was only five a.m. I slowly made my way into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water from the jug, and went back to bed. "It's too early for this," I thought. Drinking down the water, I layed down on my bed, covering myself from the cold. "Here," I thought, "Here is where I want to be. I want to stay here. There is no need to go anywhere, everything is taken care of. I think I will just sleep the day away." I lay in bed, staring at the textured ceiling, unable to go back to sleep. I saw something, briefly, that I had never noticed before. Just as I began to put it to words, it was gone. The same old silly patterns emerged in it's place. The laughing clown, the dog, the cow eating the rabbit, all the shapes I had stared at every night before drifting off to sleep, and every morning while waking up. Suddenly, I saw the other pattern emerge again, and just as quickly disappear. When I saw it, I could swear it united all the other patterns. I'm probably just bored.
I lay there, thinking about what would have happened if I had died in the night. I know that it is such a morbid thought, but it has been apart of my routine for years. Ever since my Grandfather died. The day before we had gone fishing, and everything had been fine. He was on top of his game, catching more fish that I will ever catch in my entire life, especially because I don't fish anymore. He was laughing, catching fish right and left, making sure everyone knew that it was, "The Greatest Day of my Life." That night, at dinner, we sat around and shared stories, one right after another. My Grandfather's eyes shone like a deep blue pool of water, when the sun catches it at just the right angle. The smile that he awoke with never left his face that day. When all the younger cousins had gone to bed, because we were going to have another day of fun, he went out to the front porch to smoke his pipe. Cliché, I know, but he did it all the same. He was sitting in his rocking chair, watching the fireflies come out, when he told me something I will never forget. He told me that no matter what happens in life, to always keep a smile on my face. Comfortable advice from everyone's favorite cliché, the elderly, wise, but still youthful, old man. We sat there long into the night, until he finally shoo-ed me off to bed. I've always known that if I suddenly died in the night, nothing would change. If my soul slipped out the back door, and ran off through the giant field of the universe, frolicking and singing songs, the World would still go on. Just like when Grandfather died, I guess. They said it was a heart-attack, but I know his soul was too young for a body that old.
It was a Friday, and I had school. I seriously contemplated skipping out, starting the Party early, but I had the sudden urge not too. I knew that there was something important going to happen. Did you ever feel almost sick, sick enough that you knew you could convince your Mom to let you stay home from school, but something in the back of your mind told you that you would have a Pop quiz, or something to that extent. So you go to school, and you not only have the Pop quiz that you thought, but you also got commended for you attendance. I know, me neither. I always thought how funny it would be, if on the night that they give out all the awards for Seniors, if one or all of the people who got Perfect Attendance for all four years couldn't be there, or wasn't there. Thoughts like that make me happy and sad, I laugh and have a good time, but then I also feel the remorse of the unoriginality of my thoughts. A bird was chirping really loudly outside my room, and I realized I had fallen asleep. I looked at the clock, and it was blinking it's standard response to me. There had been a blackout, except without the black. I looked at my watch, and saw that I had been asleep for two hours. I had 30 minutes to get to school. Normally, I would have given up, told my Mom that night that I had slept in too late, because of the blackout, but I didn't have it in me.
My muscles jerked awake, vaulting me into the middle of my room. I grabbed all that I needed, and took off to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, hair, and relieved myself. I changed, glad that I had showered the night before, as if I was anticipating such an event. I was looking at myself in the full length mirror, and Suddenly I focused on the pattern of the wall-paper in the room. The pattern had changed, then, like a rubber band, snapped back into it's original form, unaware of it's bewildering consequences. The ducks stared placidly back up at me, almost as if to tell me that I was crazy. "We don't move," their eyes said, "We also don't talk." I shook it off, applied my deodorant, cologne, grabbed my shoes, keys, wallet, and took off. My hunger stopped me at the pantry, and I surveyed the scene with a grimace. Mom hadn't gotten any groceries. With a shrug and a sigh, I headed out to my car.
The brightness of the new morning washed over me with a joyful exuberance. I blinked blindly in the direction where my car should stand, but instead there was a grayish blob. Slowly, everything came into focus. The car stood where is should have, and all was right with the world. The sky was the deepest blue I have ever seen, and the grass seemed to scream, "I'm ALIVE!." There was a slight breeze, and it kept the already warm day cool, and composed. The world felt comfortable, and good; Great even. I saw a little brown squirrel in the tree in my front yard, and he dashed about the tree, comfortable with his own surroundings. I was eyeing him, when all of a sudden he stopped, and turned my way. He looked intently into my eyes, almost as intently as I looked into his, and it was as if he was trying to tell me something. Like he was trying to find the words to describe the ineffable. Then, the moment was broken, and everything seemed to be a slightly duller version of what it was before. The squirrel ran off again, seemingly unaware of the moment we just shared. If God made every day, truly fashioned them from nothingness, He would probably have saved his most special, worthwhile, and beautiful day for very last; of course, that's only if you believe in that kind of mumbo-jumbo.
I tried to start my car, increasingly afraid that I would miss the beginning of school and have to pay the price, but it was worthless. Somehow, my car had died during the night. I must have left my lights on, or something. Then I noticed that the seatbelt on the passenger side was trapped in the door. Someone had driven my car, and when they got out, they didn't have the decency to make sure all the doors were closed. I shook my head, unable to be too angry, but aware of the creeping suspicion that I wasn't supposed to drive. That, like the shower last night, this had been planned. I ignored myself, bored with my own always running mind. I grabbed my backpack out of the backseat, and began the long, arduous trek to school. As I looked down the end of my street; not very far, only three houses down, I saw the tiny grouping of trees behind the suburbs across the street. I wouldn't call it a tiny forest, but that's the closest word I can think of. As I looked at the tiny forest, I saw the same pattern again, well, close to it. It had changed somehow. I'm not exactly sure how I could, or should explain it, but it had changed. I also noticed something very unnerving, there were no cars on the street. I had been standing here almost five minutes, fiddling with my car, and staring at the scenery, and I had not seen one car pass by. This was particularly strange for after seven o'clock in the morning. Suddenly, I saw something much, much stranger.
A car sped past, a convertable. I wondered where exactly they were going so fast. I heard a screech, and the sound of rending metal. I knew exactly what had happened, before I even made it to the curb. Why were they going that fast? What were they running from? The sound was visceral, and it made my entrails curl up. I didn't notice anyone else on the street, or anyone looking out their windows. The car was gone. I looked around the street, and couldn't find any proof of their existence. I ran back to my house, and tried to call the police. The phone was dead. The blackout had killed all the power to the phones, and I couldn't get a line out. I booked it back to the scene, and looked all over. I called out, but the street just echoed my voice back to me. I decided there was nothing I could do. I looked once more over my shoulder at the apparent scene of the wreck, glass glittering in the morning sun. Again, I noticed the same pattern, but it was different still. As I walked away, the pattern changed but it was still there, laughing at me, mocking me, the lone witness of a horrible accident, and a horrible pattern.
I started the long walk to school, still broken up about the accident. I could only assume that they, whoever they were, died. The day was still beautiful, but in a sickly sort of way. The sunlight took on the peculiar quality of bright light, when you feel sick, it is invasive and domineering. I looked up into the too blue sky, and realized how much of a travesty it is for someone to die on this day. People are supposed to die on days that are rainy, and dark, not on a day where the sun is already high in the sky, and the birds singing. I hadn't heard the birds sing in a long time. Sure, they aren't out during the winter time, but this was towards the end of spring, and I had not noticed a single bird all spring. The lights were blinking red. I wondered what happened, but I guessed it was just the blackout again. It was so weird to think of a blackout in the middle of such a bright, sun shiny day. I thought about it, and there wasn't even a storm last night. I was so late to school it wasn't even funny, so I took my time walking to school. I might as well take in the beauty of the day, and try to get my mind off of...
There it was again, the pattern. I looked up into the sky, and I could have sworn I saw it in the clouds. It disappeared quickly this time, and didn't reappear. I stood there for five minutes, at least, and didn't see a thing. I was beginning to think that I was becoming obsessed. It's not really there, I told myself. I need to get to school, and get around some other people. That way I won't be left by myself with my crazy notions of patterns. I walked the rest of the way to school, and didn't see one other person. It was very surreal. I had this immense feeling of dread, like something was counting down, and I wasn't going to be able to stop it. I was beginning to feel dizzy, the world felt like it was pressing in harder and harder on my senses, like water on a diver, going deeper and deeper into the depths. Just as I felt my sanity begin to slip out, to equalize with the insanity of the day, I saw everyone outside the school.
Not everyone, mind you, but everyone that mattered to me. I broke into a stride, then sprinted towards the school. Why was everyone outside, and why wasn't school in session? Where is everyone? Why, Why aren't there any cars on the road, save the one? As I got within seeing distance of all my friends, they called out to me, all at once, as if they had been waiting for me, the guest of honor, to show up. I arrived twenty minutes after the wreck, not late, so much as right on time. I looked over the faces of my friends, looking for an answer that was not there. I knew that something was wrong, something was extremely wrong. "What are you guys doing out here?" I asked. Julia answered, "Lord knows we didn't have anything else to do." Everyone laughed, including me. It was a desperate laughter, the kind heard in an asylum in the middle of the night, when the stress of insanity bears down the hardest. Julia walked over to a cooler, and tossed me a drink. I hadn't had anything all morning and it felt cool and wonderful sliding down my parched throat. The carbonation made me burp, loud and obnoxious, the kind one can only get on an empty stomach.
"So," I asked, "What exactly are we gonna do again?" They were trying to explain to me what was going to happen. "Alright." Alfred said, "we all line up and make a funny pose, doing whatever you think the moment calls for, and wait for the flash... The light show should be magnificent, and the colors will make for a great picture." I was uneasy, I never took pictures well, and this was an important one. More important than any graduation, prom, yearbook picture would ever turn out to be. This one would, "Go down in the history books." Al said. I believed him. We all did. He had never let us down, and he never would. I looked at my watch, thirty minutes, maybe less, until the light show started. It was nightfall, and street lights never came on. They were off for the main event, we all knew. It was strange how one simple moment could be so tense. It would be spectacular, and we awaited it like we awaited Christmas morning. Presents for everyone.
We had had a cookout all day, because it was a national holiday, of sorts. Everyone went wherever they felt like going, except the government employees. They had to go to work. I'm not sure what they thought they could get done on a day such as this, so beautiful, with so many people out of work and spending it with their families. My Mom had gone to work, she was an air-traffic controller. I'm not sure why she had to go in, I didn't see a single plane in the sky all day. Or maybe she didn't come home last night. I guess I was the stupid schmoe who didn't shut the door all the way. It's not like it mattered much, if I had driven I might have gotten into an accident with that convertable. Either way, my family, or my Mom, was at work, and all I had was my friends. All through the day, I looked over my shoulder at the football field, and every so often I would notice my pattern again. I wanted to point it out to someone, but I also didn't want to be crazy. The stress was getting to me, that's all it was.
Julia got on top of the cooler, just as the sun burnt bright behind her, and told us "We have less than thirty minutes left folks, so eat what you wanna eat, say what you wanna say, so we can be sure that no one misses the big Show!" Everyone cheered, a sad, pathetic cheer, like you get at pep rallies. No one really cares, but no one wants anyone else to know that they don't care. I started to notice the pattern more and more. It seemed like the pattern was making itself more apparent, or that it was getting simpler or something. I walked around the crowd, talking to everyone, and I could hear them mention it. "It was subtle at first," they would say, "but then it started to show much more clearly... Like it was getting simpler or something." I heard the panic in their voice, and felt it in my own, "What do you think it means?" I asked. "I don't think it means anything, except that we are all going a little crazy." Al said. "I think we all need to have a good laugh. Did you ever hear the one about the dutch man on the airplane?"
The pattern got simpler, that was what it was. The pattern was easier to see because it got simpler and simpler, almost as if the random possibilities that could happen were slowly shutting down. Probability heading closer and closer to zero. The time drew near, and all I could think about was the stupid pattern. We all lined up in front of the school, in front of the biggest white wall that we could find. On shifts throughout the day we had worked at covering up the graffiti, the scuff marks, the dirt and mud. If we were going to have our picture taken, we would make sure that it was perfect. The wall shone brightly in the twilight, beckoning all of us in front of it. The time was drawing near, and I stepped out of line, turned, and faced everyone. I had something very important to say, and I knew that it could not wait. I opened my mouth, and I laughed. Everyone else looked deep into my eyes, and they all laughed too. We all laughed until we could not laugh anymore. Smiling, I felt the air go cool all of a sudden, and knew that the time was drawing near. I ran back in line, and I saw Julia get down on her knees. She was crying, weeping really. I looked beyond her and saw the pattern, standing brightly against the grass, only, it wasn't a pattern, it was a word. One simple, meaningful word. I knew the time had come, and I turned around. And suddenly, everything became perfectly, unceasingly, and brilliantly Bright.
I have written a short story... I don't want to give away the ending... so read it. And pretend that you don't know anything about
the End of the World.
"March 12"
By Mark Abbott
I awoke with a cough; A grating, hacking, menacing cough. I rolled over and saw the dawn break through tiny, makeshift curtains. The clock told me lies, how could it be the time his red face told? I shifted, sat up, and realized the immense thirst that dried my mouth. It was only five a.m. I slowly made my way into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water from the jug, and went back to bed. "It's too early for this," I thought. Drinking down the water, I layed down on my bed, covering myself from the cold. "Here," I thought, "Here is where I want to be. I want to stay here. There is no need to go anywhere, everything is taken care of. I think I will just sleep the day away." I lay in bed, staring at the textured ceiling, unable to go back to sleep. I saw something, briefly, that I had never noticed before. Just as I began to put it to words, it was gone. The same old silly patterns emerged in it's place. The laughing clown, the dog, the cow eating the rabbit, all the shapes I had stared at every night before drifting off to sleep, and every morning while waking up. Suddenly, I saw the other pattern emerge again, and just as quickly disappear. When I saw it, I could swear it united all the other patterns. I'm probably just bored.
I lay there, thinking about what would have happened if I had died in the night. I know that it is such a morbid thought, but it has been apart of my routine for years. Ever since my Grandfather died. The day before we had gone fishing, and everything had been fine. He was on top of his game, catching more fish that I will ever catch in my entire life, especially because I don't fish anymore. He was laughing, catching fish right and left, making sure everyone knew that it was, "The Greatest Day of my Life." That night, at dinner, we sat around and shared stories, one right after another. My Grandfather's eyes shone like a deep blue pool of water, when the sun catches it at just the right angle. The smile that he awoke with never left his face that day. When all the younger cousins had gone to bed, because we were going to have another day of fun, he went out to the front porch to smoke his pipe. Cliché, I know, but he did it all the same. He was sitting in his rocking chair, watching the fireflies come out, when he told me something I will never forget. He told me that no matter what happens in life, to always keep a smile on my face. Comfortable advice from everyone's favorite cliché, the elderly, wise, but still youthful, old man. We sat there long into the night, until he finally shoo-ed me off to bed. I've always known that if I suddenly died in the night, nothing would change. If my soul slipped out the back door, and ran off through the giant field of the universe, frolicking and singing songs, the World would still go on. Just like when Grandfather died, I guess. They said it was a heart-attack, but I know his soul was too young for a body that old.
It was a Friday, and I had school. I seriously contemplated skipping out, starting the Party early, but I had the sudden urge not too. I knew that there was something important going to happen. Did you ever feel almost sick, sick enough that you knew you could convince your Mom to let you stay home from school, but something in the back of your mind told you that you would have a Pop quiz, or something to that extent. So you go to school, and you not only have the Pop quiz that you thought, but you also got commended for you attendance. I know, me neither. I always thought how funny it would be, if on the night that they give out all the awards for Seniors, if one or all of the people who got Perfect Attendance for all four years couldn't be there, or wasn't there. Thoughts like that make me happy and sad, I laugh and have a good time, but then I also feel the remorse of the unoriginality of my thoughts. A bird was chirping really loudly outside my room, and I realized I had fallen asleep. I looked at the clock, and it was blinking it's standard response to me. There had been a blackout, except without the black. I looked at my watch, and saw that I had been asleep for two hours. I had 30 minutes to get to school. Normally, I would have given up, told my Mom that night that I had slept in too late, because of the blackout, but I didn't have it in me.
My muscles jerked awake, vaulting me into the middle of my room. I grabbed all that I needed, and took off to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth, hair, and relieved myself. I changed, glad that I had showered the night before, as if I was anticipating such an event. I was looking at myself in the full length mirror, and Suddenly I focused on the pattern of the wall-paper in the room. The pattern had changed, then, like a rubber band, snapped back into it's original form, unaware of it's bewildering consequences. The ducks stared placidly back up at me, almost as if to tell me that I was crazy. "We don't move," their eyes said, "We also don't talk." I shook it off, applied my deodorant, cologne, grabbed my shoes, keys, wallet, and took off. My hunger stopped me at the pantry, and I surveyed the scene with a grimace. Mom hadn't gotten any groceries. With a shrug and a sigh, I headed out to my car.
The brightness of the new morning washed over me with a joyful exuberance. I blinked blindly in the direction where my car should stand, but instead there was a grayish blob. Slowly, everything came into focus. The car stood where is should have, and all was right with the world. The sky was the deepest blue I have ever seen, and the grass seemed to scream, "I'm ALIVE!." There was a slight breeze, and it kept the already warm day cool, and composed. The world felt comfortable, and good; Great even. I saw a little brown squirrel in the tree in my front yard, and he dashed about the tree, comfortable with his own surroundings. I was eyeing him, when all of a sudden he stopped, and turned my way. He looked intently into my eyes, almost as intently as I looked into his, and it was as if he was trying to tell me something. Like he was trying to find the words to describe the ineffable. Then, the moment was broken, and everything seemed to be a slightly duller version of what it was before. The squirrel ran off again, seemingly unaware of the moment we just shared. If God made every day, truly fashioned them from nothingness, He would probably have saved his most special, worthwhile, and beautiful day for very last; of course, that's only if you believe in that kind of mumbo-jumbo.
I tried to start my car, increasingly afraid that I would miss the beginning of school and have to pay the price, but it was worthless. Somehow, my car had died during the night. I must have left my lights on, or something. Then I noticed that the seatbelt on the passenger side was trapped in the door. Someone had driven my car, and when they got out, they didn't have the decency to make sure all the doors were closed. I shook my head, unable to be too angry, but aware of the creeping suspicion that I wasn't supposed to drive. That, like the shower last night, this had been planned. I ignored myself, bored with my own always running mind. I grabbed my backpack out of the backseat, and began the long, arduous trek to school. As I looked down the end of my street; not very far, only three houses down, I saw the tiny grouping of trees behind the suburbs across the street. I wouldn't call it a tiny forest, but that's the closest word I can think of. As I looked at the tiny forest, I saw the same pattern again, well, close to it. It had changed somehow. I'm not exactly sure how I could, or should explain it, but it had changed. I also noticed something very unnerving, there were no cars on the street. I had been standing here almost five minutes, fiddling with my car, and staring at the scenery, and I had not seen one car pass by. This was particularly strange for after seven o'clock in the morning. Suddenly, I saw something much, much stranger.
A car sped past, a convertable. I wondered where exactly they were going so fast. I heard a screech, and the sound of rending metal. I knew exactly what had happened, before I even made it to the curb. Why were they going that fast? What were they running from? The sound was visceral, and it made my entrails curl up. I didn't notice anyone else on the street, or anyone looking out their windows. The car was gone. I looked around the street, and couldn't find any proof of their existence. I ran back to my house, and tried to call the police. The phone was dead. The blackout had killed all the power to the phones, and I couldn't get a line out. I booked it back to the scene, and looked all over. I called out, but the street just echoed my voice back to me. I decided there was nothing I could do. I looked once more over my shoulder at the apparent scene of the wreck, glass glittering in the morning sun. Again, I noticed the same pattern, but it was different still. As I walked away, the pattern changed but it was still there, laughing at me, mocking me, the lone witness of a horrible accident, and a horrible pattern.
I started the long walk to school, still broken up about the accident. I could only assume that they, whoever they were, died. The day was still beautiful, but in a sickly sort of way. The sunlight took on the peculiar quality of bright light, when you feel sick, it is invasive and domineering. I looked up into the too blue sky, and realized how much of a travesty it is for someone to die on this day. People are supposed to die on days that are rainy, and dark, not on a day where the sun is already high in the sky, and the birds singing. I hadn't heard the birds sing in a long time. Sure, they aren't out during the winter time, but this was towards the end of spring, and I had not noticed a single bird all spring. The lights were blinking red. I wondered what happened, but I guessed it was just the blackout again. It was so weird to think of a blackout in the middle of such a bright, sun shiny day. I thought about it, and there wasn't even a storm last night. I was so late to school it wasn't even funny, so I took my time walking to school. I might as well take in the beauty of the day, and try to get my mind off of...
There it was again, the pattern. I looked up into the sky, and I could have sworn I saw it in the clouds. It disappeared quickly this time, and didn't reappear. I stood there for five minutes, at least, and didn't see a thing. I was beginning to think that I was becoming obsessed. It's not really there, I told myself. I need to get to school, and get around some other people. That way I won't be left by myself with my crazy notions of patterns. I walked the rest of the way to school, and didn't see one other person. It was very surreal. I had this immense feeling of dread, like something was counting down, and I wasn't going to be able to stop it. I was beginning to feel dizzy, the world felt like it was pressing in harder and harder on my senses, like water on a diver, going deeper and deeper into the depths. Just as I felt my sanity begin to slip out, to equalize with the insanity of the day, I saw everyone outside the school.
Not everyone, mind you, but everyone that mattered to me. I broke into a stride, then sprinted towards the school. Why was everyone outside, and why wasn't school in session? Where is everyone? Why, Why aren't there any cars on the road, save the one? As I got within seeing distance of all my friends, they called out to me, all at once, as if they had been waiting for me, the guest of honor, to show up. I arrived twenty minutes after the wreck, not late, so much as right on time. I looked over the faces of my friends, looking for an answer that was not there. I knew that something was wrong, something was extremely wrong. "What are you guys doing out here?" I asked. Julia answered, "Lord knows we didn't have anything else to do." Everyone laughed, including me. It was a desperate laughter, the kind heard in an asylum in the middle of the night, when the stress of insanity bears down the hardest. Julia walked over to a cooler, and tossed me a drink. I hadn't had anything all morning and it felt cool and wonderful sliding down my parched throat. The carbonation made me burp, loud and obnoxious, the kind one can only get on an empty stomach.
"So," I asked, "What exactly are we gonna do again?" They were trying to explain to me what was going to happen. "Alright." Alfred said, "we all line up and make a funny pose, doing whatever you think the moment calls for, and wait for the flash... The light show should be magnificent, and the colors will make for a great picture." I was uneasy, I never took pictures well, and this was an important one. More important than any graduation, prom, yearbook picture would ever turn out to be. This one would, "Go down in the history books." Al said. I believed him. We all did. He had never let us down, and he never would. I looked at my watch, thirty minutes, maybe less, until the light show started. It was nightfall, and street lights never came on. They were off for the main event, we all knew. It was strange how one simple moment could be so tense. It would be spectacular, and we awaited it like we awaited Christmas morning. Presents for everyone.
We had had a cookout all day, because it was a national holiday, of sorts. Everyone went wherever they felt like going, except the government employees. They had to go to work. I'm not sure what they thought they could get done on a day such as this, so beautiful, with so many people out of work and spending it with their families. My Mom had gone to work, she was an air-traffic controller. I'm not sure why she had to go in, I didn't see a single plane in the sky all day. Or maybe she didn't come home last night. I guess I was the stupid schmoe who didn't shut the door all the way. It's not like it mattered much, if I had driven I might have gotten into an accident with that convertable. Either way, my family, or my Mom, was at work, and all I had was my friends. All through the day, I looked over my shoulder at the football field, and every so often I would notice my pattern again. I wanted to point it out to someone, but I also didn't want to be crazy. The stress was getting to me, that's all it was.
Julia got on top of the cooler, just as the sun burnt bright behind her, and told us "We have less than thirty minutes left folks, so eat what you wanna eat, say what you wanna say, so we can be sure that no one misses the big Show!" Everyone cheered, a sad, pathetic cheer, like you get at pep rallies. No one really cares, but no one wants anyone else to know that they don't care. I started to notice the pattern more and more. It seemed like the pattern was making itself more apparent, or that it was getting simpler or something. I walked around the crowd, talking to everyone, and I could hear them mention it. "It was subtle at first," they would say, "but then it started to show much more clearly... Like it was getting simpler or something." I heard the panic in their voice, and felt it in my own, "What do you think it means?" I asked. "I don't think it means anything, except that we are all going a little crazy." Al said. "I think we all need to have a good laugh. Did you ever hear the one about the dutch man on the airplane?"
The pattern got simpler, that was what it was. The pattern was easier to see because it got simpler and simpler, almost as if the random possibilities that could happen were slowly shutting down. Probability heading closer and closer to zero. The time drew near, and all I could think about was the stupid pattern. We all lined up in front of the school, in front of the biggest white wall that we could find. On shifts throughout the day we had worked at covering up the graffiti, the scuff marks, the dirt and mud. If we were going to have our picture taken, we would make sure that it was perfect. The wall shone brightly in the twilight, beckoning all of us in front of it. The time was drawing near, and I stepped out of line, turned, and faced everyone. I had something very important to say, and I knew that it could not wait. I opened my mouth, and I laughed. Everyone else looked deep into my eyes, and they all laughed too. We all laughed until we could not laugh anymore. Smiling, I felt the air go cool all of a sudden, and knew that the time was drawing near. I ran back in line, and I saw Julia get down on her knees. She was crying, weeping really. I looked beyond her and saw the pattern, standing brightly against the grass, only, it wasn't a pattern, it was a word. One simple, meaningful word. I knew the time had come, and I turned around. And suddenly, everything became perfectly, unceasingly, and brilliantly Bright.