Unconscious

The day after the next, things would gradually change—either small enough to be unnoticed or something extravagant. Just this morning, the whole village witnessed a blinding, purple sunset for the first time. Really sets apart from our once lifeless grey city. This was the start of our flourishment.

Oh, how I wished I were that crying child upset their ice cream fell off their cone, innocent and unaware of the real things to worry about. As a lone rider, my form of entertainment has been observing the Amish-like lifestyle of these villagers. They'd raise a heck ton of children and have them participate in every ounce of labor as soon as one can walk on his own. It was an old yet traditional lifestyle, although there was some form of beauty in it that I absolutely respected—envied even. Their whole world is right here; everything that breathes inside the community is considered family. All the while, their grandchildrens' grandchildren get the opportunity to relish the leftover masterpieces their relatives spent years to perfect. I was simply glad to be a part of this.

I wake up feeling slumped and remind myself that I have a routine to follow. Each day, I add a new task to my list in order to convince my brain that I'm not repeating the daily cycle of unchanging events. On the beneficial side, it holds a twist in between. I'm allowing myself to notice little different details outside of the mundane like sprinkles of seasoning added to the entree.

The weather drastically differed this evening compared to the morning, and it had a lot to do with the moist air that has now garnered dozens of mosquitoes. I took off my coat and tied it around my waist while keeping my legs in check for bites. Today's festival was located near the large empty space right behind the local farmer's market, and I awkwardly butted myself inside.

Unison of chanting, laughter from children to seniors, clapping and dancing. All the elements one can easily find in a given crowd of happy human beings. Stuff like this could make a person forget about the curfew they had an hour ago or the problems that persisted for so long a day ago but are nothing more closer than a forgotten memory now. As I analyzed these faces of unfamiliar family members, I realize they share something that I lack thereof.

I head out the large wooden double doors to leave, but then I turn around to adore the view once more. Suddenly at this moment, with all backs facing against me, a small child staring me down stands out from the crowd. Her black eyes are revealed as dark brown from the sun, and she squints with one hand above her face. I continue to stare at this young girl, and in that same instant, it was as though the faint outline of her body shivered like static. I pretended not to notice and casually exited this area as I've meant to.

I lit a cig near the entrance of the bridge and rested my arms outside of the railings. I imagined the feeling of blood rushing towards my fingers like that of the river underneath flowing endlessly before hitting a dead end.

Zeke, an old neighbor of mine, timidly approaches me and asks for a lighter. Conversation doesn't commonly slip in between us, but we made a pact to always be there for the other person. Like officers off duty, we both silently stood there on the bridge, locking our view upon the orange-reddish sunset fading away as the sun slowly lowered itself from the horizon. I unexpectedly heard a sniffle coming from Zeke and quickly stole a glance.

"Sorry," He mumbled. "I just haven't seen stuff like that in...ages."

A tear nearly jerked out of my eye from remembering the days Zeke's son used to fish with him, and they'd stay long enough to see the ever-changing sky throughout the day. It had just hit me that we were right above the exact river they would fish at. Sadly, it's clear that he lost that thriving passion now. I held the capacity to understand that in a lost father's gaze, there's reminiscence rooted from yearning for what things were—could have been—like.

My eyes remained glued onto the river, entrancing me into a dissociative state of mind. The sunlight glistened on the surface and reached where the fish all swam, showing its ability to harvest life inside its body. The blue water, so fresh from impurities, only attracting my urge to dive down for a quick swim. As soon as the black dome of stars replaced the sunbathed sky, torches and lamps from the village sparkled onto the dark water—only reminding me that I've already forgotten the beautiful parts of life. This was the only possible rendition; everything was impeccably unreplicable.

After enduring enough mosquito bites for the day, I turned to Zeke for a farewell. He had the friendliest grin, one that felt undeserving. Apart from the sadness in his eyes, there revealed a hint of hope. The reason of which I couldn't decipher. I gave the warmest smile I can spare in return.

I spent the remaining minutes of the night gazing out the window of my room and admiring the yellow fireflies swirling around the backyard; they filled the environment with such a peaceful aura. The moon was a crescent this month, so thin as though someone had sketched a line across the sky with hundreds of stars organized around it, illuminating a soft glow peeping into my bedroom.

The next morning, there were no small birds chirping at my window. I didn't wake up to the sun glaring in my eyes but rather the earsplitting beeping noises of my alarm. My bedroom was just as cold as it was empty. Dust and mold living onto my furniture and walls were the only bit of company I had. I glanced outside the window like a rapunzel finally getting the opportunity to peek at the unfamiliar, dangerous outside place. The streets were ashy, worn down from destruction. Not empty of cars, but the cars were all empty. No sign of life can be observed beyond the different stories within this apartment nor the building across the street. Everything was laid down in remnants of what everyone chose years to forget about.

I rushed to take a stroll to the restroom but accidentally tripped and picked up the item at fault. A small, fluffy bear with a bell inside the body that created this lulling chime sound; a sound that I did not forget. Neglecting the need to pee, I walked over to my sleep cell and examined the screen attached to it. I clicked on a few buttons to review the list of rendering details that were in progress. I kept scrolling down until I finally found the name. It really was her. It was unbelievable yet strange; I wasn't the one who coded her in here.

With tears in my eyes, I watched the blurry bar slowly load its way to the end until a green light flashed onto the screen.

"Loading complete"