Post by katt on Nov 5, 2016 13:22:52 GMT -4
Smiling she watches the glowing lights of the electric fish tank reflect onto the bare wall, illuminating the peeling paint in addition to the dust that cakes the floor. The ever changing colours create a beautiful distraction, it's quiet enough to hear the plastic fish tap whenever they collide. This tank is the only thing in the whole apartment apart from a threadbare sofa and a cardboard box- which the electric fish tank is on top of. Outside of this apartment the world is dark, dark blue and bleak, only lit up by the empty glow of neon lights that still somehow shine even though no one is concerned anymore. Everything changed when the birds came. She doubts there's really life outside to any further extent, nothing but palm trees and the shell of a city that now is her private little paradise.
Nearly all the people have evacuated to somewhere safer before the electricity fully goes, but not her. Long before they went she'd thrown away most of her possessions in preparation for the end however she didn't have the heart to discard the electric fish tank. Now it serves as her only companion as the end draws closer. To keep herself happy she dreams, sleeps and sometimes goes looking for food (It's surprising what people forget to take with them when the world's ending.) Mostly she dreams to pass the time though, conjuring up thoughts of better occasions and places. I feel like praying, constantly echoes in her head but all she needs to do is to look at her fish tank and those thoughts are gone, replaced by the colours and lights. Anything to replace the silence of a dead world.
After the morning comes and the afternoon arrives she sits up and stretches for a few moments, soaking up the sun that shines through the broken window. When she leaves she doesn't have to lock her door. Bare feet upon asphalt that burns in the sun, blistering her flesh as she ambles down the boulevard, listening to her own breath and the breeze. Stopping, she catches the gaze of her reflection in deserted street window, hair flat in the stiflingly warm air and broken shades resting on top reminiscent of a personal crown. Though she carries on walking, her mind is cast back her Ex- Husband, Mr Born-to-loose, if you wish.
"Claudia dea-"
"We've already filed the divorce, why are you calling me?"
He liked younger women, money, alcohol and the feeling of being adored while she had liked the other younger women more; it was surprising they'd lasted as long as they had. The split hadn't be amiable at all and now he had the audacity to call her, of all people.
"Claud-"
"Leave me alone."
"Something is wrong, I can't explai-"
"Let me guess, now that it's the end of the world we should be together again? That maybe you've been reading the papers & maybe there's a problem? You know those tabloids talk nonsense about my personal life and it's none of your business"
"Claudia I don't care about that" He snapped over the phone and she swore she heard a giggle in the background. Distaste expanded in her chest like hot air.
"Good."
"I'm checking to see if you've got a lift out of town, we're still technically married."
She gazed out of her window onto the normally paparazzi crowded street that was now full of cars, stuck in gridlock as armed forces helped them get out of the city. Anger drained away into tiredness. In the distance palm trees swayed in the wind, unaffected by the living hell that was happening around them.
"I've got it figured out, don't worry about me."
It takes roughly an hour on foot to find an untouched convince store, she feels bad about the fact that she has to smash the window to get in. A part of her conscience tells her that the "sorry we're closed" sign is judging her actions, although a little bottled water & canned peaches drives away the guilt. There is some comfort in now knowing that she makes the rules. The temperature is unbearable now, she's sweltering in her sun dress and due to that she caves in to idea of going to the sea front. It's odd to think that back when everyone had first gone she'd delighted in doing frivolous things but now they just seem like a chore.
Only when the wet sand is oozes through her toes does she realize she hasn't been to the beach since her honeymoon. How many days, months, weeks, did she spend in her white walled apartment, writing tedious poetry about a relationship that the paparazzi cared more about than own husband did? Why did she quit acting for a cheap wedding then a divorce that cost more than it was worth? She couldn't claim she wasn't warned about people like him before, "You'll never know what they might do" and he even said the phrase "if you don't ask, I won't tell" for all things holy! It isn't worth thinking about now though, she's here furthermore, she's happy.
Soon enough, the sun is setting, reflecting oranges, reds and golds upon the water she's knee deep in. However she isn't even looking at the sea, her back is turned and she faces the beach boardwalk where the amusement lights can already been seen, light up in some rosy pink glow that looks a little too perfect. Then, with no warning whatsoever, the lights flicker and die with a sense of finality, casting the amusements into darkness. What does she do now? Her mind flashes to her empty fish tank of all things as well as the hollow shell of where she calls home. There's water lapping at her knees, now her waist. Shadows loom and any sense of paradise is lost. I feel like prey.