The Black Abyss

Image of Short Story
I am floating through a black nothingness. I can’t see anything. It’s like a thousand shadows are covering me.

Wait, I think I see some light. What is that? What am I seeing? Is that my old house? I think I am seeing my childhood house, the one I moved out of when I was ten. Is that me? A little girl is running out the door with a backpack on, heading to a bright yellow school bus. I think that is me. My pigtails bounce in the air as I skip to my bus. I remember this day, barely. It was my first ever day of school. We lived in Ferris county, in a perfect neighborhood. Seeing this, or remembering (I am really confused at what is happening), brings a sense of happiness. I like looking back at little me. Little me, as I have decided to call her, steps on to the bus and get whisked away.

What happens next is strange. One minute I was looking back on my first day of school, when I was all happy and carefree, and now I am falling in a pit. When I suddenly stop I see ten year old me crying in her room. My parents had just broken the news that we were going to move. I remember that feeling, the feeling of despair, feeling like my dog had just died. I loved my town, my neighborhood, my school, and all of the people in it. I didn't want to leave. I had friends, people who could have been my siblings, we were so close. I felt like my life was ending like I was falling down a bottomless pit and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Isn’t that what is happening to me now? Aren’t I falling in a huge pit, helpless, powerless, struggling. Am I dying? Nah, that’s not possible. I probably just hit my head and I’m in a coma or something else like that. I don’t like to think about it.

The next time I am taken to is my first day in middle school. Flanked by my best friends, Isabella and Madison I walked into the building like I owned the place. Staring even the toughest looking people down. That day was just ok. Not as sad as the day we moved, or as happy as my first day of school. It was just eh. I headed to my classroom by myself, Isabella and Madison were in different classes. I was happy to find Jake, my crush, in my class, along with a few of my friends from the year before. The first day had a lot of new rules and name learning.

Before I know it, I am falling again. I am starting to get used to it more and find a comfortable position to fall in. I stop at the day I asked Jake to the dance. I close my eyes and cover my ears. I don’t want to relive this moment. Even though I try really hard, none of my attempts to block out the noise work. I can still hear his voice. I wish I could leave this memory. I hate it.

My pleas come true. Once again I am falling. The helpless feeling resumes and I start to shake. All I want to do is go home. I shouldn’t have gone to the dance in the first place. I will probably wake up from a coma in five years and all of my friends will have forgotten me. I hate this.
When I stop I open my eyes. Light flood in and I realize that I am looking at myself in my car. This is from just a few minutes ago. I turn around just as a car hits me from behind. I see myself lurch forward and hit my head on the steering wheel. The car then flips over so I am upside down. I hit my head again, and my elbow, and my back, and everything else. I don’t know much about injuries, but I can tell that is was pretty bad. I probably have at least three broken ribs, a broken collarbone, more than one broken toe. Man, I am lucky to have survived that. If I survived, would I be where I am right now? Maybe, probably not. The chances of me surviving are probably really slim, too slim. There is absolutely no way I survived. I’m dead.

Everything goes black and the news sinks in. My life is over.