Broken Plates: An Apocalyptic Fable
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Before the end of the world Alexander and Carolyn had settled into a life of quiet desperation. Carolyn's dark moods had become more frequent, and Alexander was sleeping about eighteen hours each day. Still it was never enough—he was always sleepy.
Each day he would sit in his chair, listening to her crying in the bedroom. The more she cried the heavier his eyelids became. When he awoke she was still whimpering.
"My love, what's wrong?" Alexander asked, trying not to yawn. Her hair was tangled and there were dark circles under her eyes. She slumped in the closet with her arms wrapped around an old stuffed animal from a box of her childhood relics.
"I don't know," she moaned and rolled over to hide her face. Alexander considered putting his hand on her shoulder, but he knew what that could bring. Being touched, she might either fly into a rage or melt into wailing. He was just too exhausted to calm his weeping or hysterical wife right now.
"Okay, I'll be in the living room." She lay still as if she hadn't heard him. He got himself a drink and lay in the recliner which had conformed to his shape over the years. The curtain behind him was open and a sliver of sunlight tore into the dim room. He wanted to get up and pull the curtain closed but his body was just too heavy to move.
The sunlight was gone when he awoke, and Carolyn was in the kitchen smashing plates. He heard them crashing against the walls one by one. Then a big shattering shook the house as she hurled a whole stack down on the floor. He yawned and rose slowly. When he peered around the corner she screamed "Get away from me!"
Her hands were cut from the splinters of exploding tableware. The wild and hungry look in her eyes was something he had thought was beautiful when he first met her. Now it had grown tiresome. Her face had shrunken since she had stopped eating. "My love, please don't do that anymore."
Carolyn collapsed on the floor. The wild look was gone. "I'm sorry, Alex... I don't know why I did that... I just don't... Oh God, I'm so sorry... I... I don't..." and she trailed off, mumbling like the sputtering of a dying engine.
Alexander washed the cuts on her hands, and tucked her in bed. She didn't go to sleep. She just lay staring at the ceiling. He cleaned up the kitchen. Alexander was tired and wanted to sleep, but he figured he should go get more plates. The florescent lights in the store were too bright. He bought cheap dishes. They would all be smashed in a month or so.
Alex occasionally wondered what had had made them so miserable, but nothing had happened to them. A quiet man and a melancholic woman fall in love and marry, and nothing at all happened—just the natural entropy of life occasionally punctuated by desperate smashing of ceramic. Worrying just made Alex feel tired. He walked in from the car carrying the new plates slowly, as if mired in deep and sticky mud.
The house was dark and still when he got back, but he did not assume Carolyn was asleep. She never slept that he knew of. The light from the street lamp over her body in the bed made her shape seem beautiful for a moment. She rolled away from him as he lay down. He didn't need to put his hand on her pillow to know that she had soaked it with tears. She did it every night. He was so sleepy. Perhaps she would feel better in the morning. "Sweet dreams, my love," Alexander yawned, already half asleep.
*****
When he awoke it was late in the morning, and Carolyn was gone. She never stayed in bed long. There was a strange sound in the house, a rush of air. As Alexander sat up the cold air shocked his bare skin.
“Why did she turn the air so low?” he wondered. The room was a mess. The drawers were out of the dressers, and all of the clothes had been torn out of the closet. The toilet had no water and the bathroom mirror was broken. Carolyn had made a huge mess this time. It was suprising that even he had slept through this. It would take a long time to clean up. At least he wasn't sleepy. Alexander realized it was the first time he could recall that he hadn't felt exhausted. "The cold air makes me alert. I shouldn't always keep it so warm." He went downstairs to check on Carolyn.
The living room furniture was torn, and the front door was open. The first thing he noticed was that the house across the street was gone. His eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. Completely gone! Nothing but a charred foundation remained. He walked out the door. Alexander felt disoriented and lightheaded. The street outside looked unfamiliar. He had to turn to look back at his own home to be certain where he was. Most of the houses on the street had burned down. The yards were littered with debris. Only a burned-out shell was left of his Toyota.
"Oh my God, what happened?" he mumbled to himself.
Looking back at his house he felt a pang in his gut. "Carolyn!" he screamed, running back into the house. "Carolyn!"
No sound. The lights didn't come on. Rushing frantically through the dim house Alex called, "Carolyn! Where are you?" Tearing down the blinds and curtains revealed nothing but empty rooms with overturned, torn furniture. "Where is she? How did I sleep through this?"
Then Alex realized he had missed something before. Walking out the door confirmed it was true. The leaves were turning. Red, orange, yellow, but not a green tree in sight. “Why are leaves falling in July?” At that moment Alexander knew that he had slept far too long...
*This story is still being submitted for publication, therefore only a short sample is offered here.
If you wish to continue reading contact me and I may be able to send you the full text.
If you wish to continue reading contact me and I may be able to send you the full text.