| General Fiction posted May 21, 2020 |
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Some quarantines will be the death of you.
Five Percent
by DeboraDyess
Today was day 20 of the lockdown and here I was, still in the Isolation Chamber. Still waiting for men in suits to release me.
My family must be anxious. I know I am.
I look at the air gauge -- five percent. They're supposed to be watching that. How long will that last? Not a full day. The food supply from the LunarHub is gone, too, not that it’s going to matter in five percent.
Hell, yeah, I’m anxious.
I press the intercom. “Captain Degas, here. I’m feeling a bit alone. Anybody out there willing to help me outta here? Hello? That's an order!”
Silence.
It’s been silence for over a week now.
My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts.
Deep space should have been the danger. Who knew the real danger was here, at home.
“Um … Hello? You guys know the NASA handbook instructs you to keep a constant eye on me, right?”
Silence.
I stare into the monitor that shows the inner workings of the facility. I haven’t seen movement out there in eight days. One man scurried past, grabbing some papers as he fled.
Fled.
That’s a word that sends chills up my spine. I push against the door that should have opened 179 hours ago.
I think back to my childhood, to COVID-times. What was I doing on Day 20, then? SpongeBob, I think. I drift off, dreaming of Patric and SpongeBob and BikiniBottom until the air runs out.
Which, of course, it does.
Day 20 writing prompt entry
Today was day 20 of the lockdown and here I was, still in the Isolation Chamber. Still waiting for men in suits to release me.
My family must be anxious. I know I am.
I look at the air gauge -- five percent. They're supposed to be watching that. How long will that last? Not a full day. The food supply from the LunarHub is gone, too, not that it’s going to matter in five percent.
Hell, yeah, I’m anxious.
I press the intercom. “Captain Degas, here. I’m feeling a bit alone. Anybody out there willing to help me outta here? Hello? That's an order!”
Silence.
It’s been silence for over a week now.
My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts.
Deep space should have been the danger. Who knew the real danger was here, at home.
“Um … Hello? You guys know the NASA handbook instructs you to keep a constant eye on me, right?”
Silence.
I stare into the monitor that shows the inner workings of the facility. I haven’t seen movement out there in eight days. One man scurried past, grabbing some papers as he fled.
Fled.
That’s a word that sends chills up my spine. I push against the door that should have opened 179 hours ago.
I think back to my childhood, to COVID-times. What was I doing on Day 20, then? SpongeBob, I think. I drift off, dreaming of Patric and SpongeBob and BikiniBottom until the air runs out.
Which, of course, it does.
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Writing Prompt Write a Flash Fiction (250 words. Title not included in count ) beginning with the sentence 'Today was Day 20 of lockdown and here I was.' Continue on telling a fictional tale of lockdown-beginning/middle/end.) |
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