Drop Dead New Year
“Look mom another person dropped dead on TV!”
I always got excited about watching the news—just to watch the countdown every Monday. People would drop dead like flies like it wasn’t anyone’s business.
It first started on my birthday December 31, 2098…
I had fallen asleep during history class as usual, boringgggg! My face planted on my open palm—slobbered all over from the great dream I had. Stacy hahhh…the prettiest girl in all of the 7th grade. I dreamt she kissed me, with those pretty pink lips and freckles—the cutest freckles in all the land.
Sighing, I knew I had no chance with Stacy. I’m just your typical invisible, nobody-nerd and nothing ever exciting happens on my birthday.
My parents usually just celebrate with cake, a new book—which I hope is The Sandman this time—and singing to me. Don’t get me wrong I like what they do, but it’s so normal. Every day is boring! Nothing ever exciting happens in this town—I mean ever!
I wish something amazing would just happen for once, maybe my boring pubescent life will mean something.
I didn’t have to wait long…until I hear the first screams outside the school…I turn my head, sweat dripping down my brown and my palms shaking.
My heart was boiling with hunger—classmates were running down the halls…
Bodies started breaking-down like decrepit dominoes…blackened-ink like stains appeared around their skin, as they screamed cries for their mommy and daddy.
I don’t know what came over me…next thing I knew I was dancing with a dead Stacy—I felt I was on a high…I felt alive!
“Stacy you’ve never looked more beautiful.” I hummed—admired her glazed eyes…her gaping smile—blackened lips. We twirled and I danced with my Stacy—sweet Stacy… “Ta…ta…ta” “Mmmmhmmm…da…da…da!” “Yes! That’s it, Stacy! Turn and one, two, three!”
I kept dancing in the hallway—no one seemed to mind, as they kept screaming…until the only sound heard—was mine…
“The number just keeps going up doesn’t it mommy!” I looked at my mom preparing my cake for my birthday—along with dad sitting in the same chair since that day…
Mom barely speaks anymore—most people stopped coming out of their supposed “safe-havens”.
But not me…I go out every night to my old treehouse, patched up in newspaper clippings—and tell Stacy all about my wonderful day! I keep her warm with my favorite blanket—so she doesn’t get cold at night, don’t want her catching a chill.
“Guess what Stacy?” I nudged her with my elbow—wearing my sweetest smile. “Ok! I’ll tell you, don’t get all angsty…hehe!”
I lean over and whisper in her crooked yellow-black stained ear… “I brought you a gift!”
I take the box from inside the bag—open the lid and there it is…my birthday cake mommy made for me.
I grab Stacy’s hand—cracks unsettlingly, candles lit and blown…
“Wishes do come true…don’t they Stacy…”