part 1 (prologue? chapter 1? i dunno)
Nov. 1st, 2007 01:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenziei may or may not be completely insane. >.< anyway. here we go.
Marya was ten when her parents got divorced. She was thirteen when she developed her first crush on a girl, and sixteen when she met her first girlfriend. She was fifteen when she talked her dad into letting her take drum lessons. She was nineteen when she joined her first band. She was twenty-three when her grandma went into assisted living and she moved into her grandma's house.
And she was twenty-six when her grandma - along with ninety percent of the world's population - vanished into thin air.
It took Marya most of the day to realize something was wrong. She slept late, she practiced a lot, she let her dog out into the back yard but didn't bother to walk him around the neighborhood. His name was Oscar and he was a dalmatian with one blue eye and one brown eye, and conveniently for a drummer's dog, he was deaf. As far as Marya knew, he'd always been deaf. He didn't bark much and he wasn't the smartest dog she'd ever met, but he was friendly and harmless and he slept on her bed and she adored him.
It wasn't until around dinnertime that Marya started to think something might be wrong. The little old lady who lived next door had two mutts - Marya thought they were some border collie/german shepherd cross, because they were shepherd sized and shepherd shaped but collie hairy - who she would let out into her yard and leave there all day, and only let them back in for dinner.
Marya made herself a grilled cheese sandwich and waited for the little old lady to let Cujo and Cujo II back inside. An hour later the dogs had stopped barking and started whining. An hour after that, the little old lady appeared to let them in, and fifteen minutes after that, she knocked on marya's front door to ask if Marya had been watching the news.
Marya had no idea what she was talking about. The little old lady told her to turn the TV on. Marya did. The newscaster looked to be one step away from a nervous breakdown. She also didn't look familiar.
"Now I watch this broadcast every night," the little old lady said. "And I have never seen the weather girl do the news."
"What happened to the regular news people?" Marya asked.
"Gone. Vanished. Poof." She shuddered. "I have to try my grandkids again. Don't you disappear too." She hustled out of the house, Marya staring after her in confusion.
"What was that?" she asked Oscar, who tilted his head like he could hear her. "Yeah, I don't know either."
She turned the news off, took a shower, let Oscar out and back in again, tried and failed to get online to check her email and play online Scrabble. She didn't remember until she was in bed that she'd turned the ringer off on the phone, so no one would call her and interrupt her practicing. She fell asleep without turning the ringer back on or checking to see if anyone had called her.
Marya had ten voicemail messages when she woke up. Two of her exes, a guy from the last band she was in, someone at her grandma's assisted living complex. One of the exes had called five times. Marya called her back first. The phone rang and rang until the voicemail picked up, so Marya left a message - "I forgot I turned the ringer off my phone last night. I'm home, I'm ok, call me back."
She fed Oscar, let him out, and turned on the TV out of curiosity. Channel Five was off the air, which was weird, but Channel Eight had news - someone running down a list of helpful organizations. Helpful for what? Marya wondered. Where's the emergency?
Then she remembered what the little old lady who lived next door had told her: "Gone. Vanished. Poof."
How many had gone, vanished, poof?
Half the world's population was gone. Three-quarters.
Marya called her dad. She wondered why he hadn't tried to call her. He'd moved to California a few years ago, for his job and for the weather. He'd never been much of a cold weather fan. California had more summer, he'd explained. California had better beaches.
She just didn't know if California still had him. He wasn't answering his phone, either his landline or his cell phone. But the second time she tried his cell she couldn't connect at all. She tried her ex again, then the assisted living home, then her other ex, then a couple of friends.
The phones were down.
"Fucking hell," she said. "What's going on?"
words: 781
Marya was ten when her parents got divorced. She was thirteen when she developed her first crush on a girl, and sixteen when she met her first girlfriend. She was fifteen when she talked her dad into letting her take drum lessons. She was nineteen when she joined her first band. She was twenty-three when her grandma went into assisted living and she moved into her grandma's house.
And she was twenty-six when her grandma - along with ninety percent of the world's population - vanished into thin air.
It took Marya most of the day to realize something was wrong. She slept late, she practiced a lot, she let her dog out into the back yard but didn't bother to walk him around the neighborhood. His name was Oscar and he was a dalmatian with one blue eye and one brown eye, and conveniently for a drummer's dog, he was deaf. As far as Marya knew, he'd always been deaf. He didn't bark much and he wasn't the smartest dog she'd ever met, but he was friendly and harmless and he slept on her bed and she adored him.
It wasn't until around dinnertime that Marya started to think something might be wrong. The little old lady who lived next door had two mutts - Marya thought they were some border collie/german shepherd cross, because they were shepherd sized and shepherd shaped but collie hairy - who she would let out into her yard and leave there all day, and only let them back in for dinner.
Marya made herself a grilled cheese sandwich and waited for the little old lady to let Cujo and Cujo II back inside. An hour later the dogs had stopped barking and started whining. An hour after that, the little old lady appeared to let them in, and fifteen minutes after that, she knocked on marya's front door to ask if Marya had been watching the news.
Marya had no idea what she was talking about. The little old lady told her to turn the TV on. Marya did. The newscaster looked to be one step away from a nervous breakdown. She also didn't look familiar.
"Now I watch this broadcast every night," the little old lady said. "And I have never seen the weather girl do the news."
"What happened to the regular news people?" Marya asked.
"Gone. Vanished. Poof." She shuddered. "I have to try my grandkids again. Don't you disappear too." She hustled out of the house, Marya staring after her in confusion.
"What was that?" she asked Oscar, who tilted his head like he could hear her. "Yeah, I don't know either."
She turned the news off, took a shower, let Oscar out and back in again, tried and failed to get online to check her email and play online Scrabble. She didn't remember until she was in bed that she'd turned the ringer off on the phone, so no one would call her and interrupt her practicing. She fell asleep without turning the ringer back on or checking to see if anyone had called her.
Marya had ten voicemail messages when she woke up. Two of her exes, a guy from the last band she was in, someone at her grandma's assisted living complex. One of the exes had called five times. Marya called her back first. The phone rang and rang until the voicemail picked up, so Marya left a message - "I forgot I turned the ringer off my phone last night. I'm home, I'm ok, call me back."
She fed Oscar, let him out, and turned on the TV out of curiosity. Channel Five was off the air, which was weird, but Channel Eight had news - someone running down a list of helpful organizations. Helpful for what? Marya wondered. Where's the emergency?
Then she remembered what the little old lady who lived next door had told her: "Gone. Vanished. Poof."
How many had gone, vanished, poof?
Half the world's population was gone. Three-quarters.
Marya called her dad. She wondered why he hadn't tried to call her. He'd moved to California a few years ago, for his job and for the weather. He'd never been much of a cold weather fan. California had more summer, he'd explained. California had better beaches.
She just didn't know if California still had him. He wasn't answering his phone, either his landline or his cell phone. But the second time she tried his cell she couldn't connect at all. She tried her ex again, then the assisted living home, then her other ex, then a couple of friends.
The phones were down.
"Fucking hell," she said. "What's going on?"
words: 781
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 05:39 am (UTC)I loved our intro to Marya, and the normalcy of everything before she realizes what happened. Even so, there's this undercurrent of unease, of
The newscaster looked to be one step away from a nervous breakdown. She also didn't look familiar.
That one little detail was very subtly scary. Quiet scary. It's what I mean about this 'verse; it IS scary. It's just not overt about it.
"Now I watch this broadcast every night," the little old lady said. "And I have never seen the weather girl do the news."
Loved this bit.
"What was that?" she asked Oscar, who tilted his head like he could hear her. "Yeah, I don't know either."
I like Oscar.
This was a great start. I can't wait to see where it goes.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 11:39 am (UTC)ohhhhh creeepy. I love apoc fic :D
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 07:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 08:40 pm (UTC)i want it to be more creepy and disturbing than sad. *crosses fingers* i'm glad it's working so far. :>
no subject
Date: 2007-11-01 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-10 02:26 am (UTC)