Tuesday, May 1, 2012

107_yroldvirgin Week 102: Shimmer

107_yroldvirgin Tuesday

Picture 1

Picture 2

107_yroldvirgin’'s Choice: Picture 2


The day that the Earth’s population suddenly disappeared was not the date foretold by prophets, or preachers, or even the Mayans, for that matter. 2012 passed without incident. 2013 as well. But on December 24th, 2014, just before the sun rose ... mankind simply ceased to exist.

Except for me.

Waking up in a hotel room in Orlando, Florida on a family Christmas vacation and realizing that I was the only person left was terrifying. At first. But electricity still ran. Elevators still moved up and down from the top floor to the lobby. Food could be found in the kitchen, and surely there were stores beyond the front doors that I could walk to in order to acquire things … needs … for survival.

After all, I was almost an adult.

Standing just outside of the elevator doors on the lobby level of the Renaissance across from SeaWorld, I stared out towards the area where people once stood smoking or checking in, valets parking cars that now sat askew in the drive, doors open and engines finally dead.

Snow fell in steady rhythm to the ground, causing my mother’s words to ring in my head as I watched the pieces of white float and twirl in the wind. “Maggie, If rain is God’s tears, then snow must be the angels crying ...”

It hit me then just how much the snow looked like tiny particles of angel wings ...

Taking a tentative step forward, I waited for the still-working automatic doors to open, allowing me my first peek into the world that remained just beyond the entrance. Blanketed in white, it was still. Eerie. Quiet as a tomb, save for the wind that rushed over my exposed arms, chilling me immediately and making me wince at my stupidity for not changing out of my nightgown before attempting to go outside.

It was the cold that drove me back in and back up the elevator and into the hotel room that I’d left propped open just in case the electricity suddenly did turn off and I was left without entry.

Sitting atop the thick, white comforter, I wrapped it around my body, creating a cocoon. Letting the snow melt into the fabric. Bringing warmth back to my bones.

Now that I knew my instinct was correct, and that no one else was there, I could make a plan. I could figure out where to go. Try to see if anyone else was spared.

But first, I allow myself to deal with the fact that my entire family was gone.