I’m a monster half the time and you’re usually not around then.

Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Current Date: May 18, 2023

Character: Siana Evans
Race: Human
Age: 33
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
 

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I wonder what kind of bedtime stories parents are telling their children anymore. It’s such a strange passing thought but, in a way, it is more than a passing thought considering that it’s been on my mind for some time. It comes from the odd interaction I witnessed while I was taking care of a bit of laundry. It’s odd how soothing that particular activity has become.

Yes, we have access to electricity. Yes, the fridges that have survived the snow work though other than the bit of meat that we get every so often, we don’t use ours much. The toilets can be flushed, and there is running water for the shower as well though that, too, is just slightly, barely, on a timer. Washing machines and dryers, though, are a whole other thing and I don’t know that anyone has really thought about fixing things with them. If they work, they do, but as far as I know, the vast majority of us end up at one of the handfuls of washing spots to do the laundry by hand that we then hang to dry. The air is perfect for line drying, as is.

It was a quiet day at the washing spot; only a handful of us on that particular morning and it suited me fine. I’ve come to realize that I’m not much of a social bug and I don’t go out of my way to spend time with the people I’m not comfortable being around. It’s not all that complicated.

There was some quiet talking going on between two men who were each doing their own small basket of clothing, it provided some background noise other than that of the nature that surrounds us but I’m pretty sure I had tuned them mostly out, focused on getting a particular stain out of a pair of pants that shouldn’t have even been anywhere near the reason for that stain, to begin with.

It was the sound of sharp laughter that pulled me out of my bubble more than not. A pair of teens were walking on by, a brunette whose hair was pulled back into a long, long braid, and a redhead whose hair was kept so short I’m surprised I was able to tell it was red. The light caught it just so as they were walking away, though.

It had been the brunette who had laughed at the redhead who was looking back to what I assumed to be their friend with an unamused look. They said something—loud enough to be heard without needing to eavesdrop—about how they were a monster half of the time but their friend was usually just not around to witness it.

Cue more laughter of disbelief from the brunette as they walked on by. The redhead looked all the more frustrated by passing moments and it really did make me wonder, in the end. What would lead to that sort of belief? Was this nothing more than an actual game for them? That was the part that was difficult to know. By the redhead’s reaction to the brunette’s laughter, it didn’t seem like much of a game, and if that was the case, why call themselves a monster?

What had they done to believe they deserved such a title?

There are just so many questions that I feel as though I have to ask myself about that whole situation that it’s probably why it’s still on my mind. It’s not as though I’m really all that interested in figuring out what they were talking about and why it was on the subject at all, that’s not the point. The point is that it felt like an odd sort of subject to be talking about, especially for kids that young—I could be wrong about their age, but they looked to be maybe thirteen or fourteen.

In time, I know I’ll stop thinking about it. Something else will crop up and it’ll occupy my mind. For now, though, as I lug my basket of clean and ready-to-hang clothes, my mind wanders along unfamiliar paths as I really can’t help but ask myself these pointless questions. I don’t know these teens. I might have seen them in passing but clearly, the population isn’t going to fully die out as people are clearly having sex and having kids, so there are always going to be people I’m not familiar with. Our little home in this new world might be just one of countless and while our numbers aren’t insanely high, they’re still high enough that I’ll never know everyone personally.

Not that I would want to and I don’t know that anyone sane would want to either but what do I really know about that, in the end? I’m better off just minding my own business.

Final Word Count: 805

Someone has to be the voice of reason around here or you’d all be in jail.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Siana Evans
Race: Human
Age: 32
Current residence: New York City Ruins, New York
Final Word Count: 791 words
 

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I wonder if it’s strange that I don’t miss what life used to be, before. Well, in a way, that might be a bit of a lie. There are certain things that I do miss about how things had been before the snow but there’s not much to that list. One thing I truly don’t miss is the horror of how things went south for a while with work and how I then lost that job completely because someone just didn’t like me.

That little blip in my life was a struggle, I lost weight I couldn’t afford to lose, I think that I nearly lost Marcus because of it and just, those few months were horrible, and I don’t miss those at all. I’m glad those are behind me and every day following that moment in the transport, I marvel somewhat that we—our tiny little group of people—made it out alive of the whole mess.

The job wasn’t the best thing ever. I’m pretty sure that most of my coworkers didn’t care one bit for me. They didn’t make much of an effort to get to know me, even though I tried to get to know them. I don’t know if they were just intimidated by my height or something but that’s one of those things; I’ve long since been used to people expecting to have to look at a certain height to be eye-level with me only for their gaze to have to keep on travelling upwards until they reach their destination. I’m tall. End of that story.

I used to watch the interactions between the others at work during the slightly quieter times. At first, I was fine with being kept apart, I didn’t really want to make friends with them. It was a job and it paid but it wasn’t what I wanted out of life. The longer I worked there, though, the more I wanted at least one of them to smile back my way when I did smile at them, if for nothing more than a sense that I wasn’t lower than low for them. I don’t know how to put into words the way that made me feel.

When it was really quiet, they’d all end up in one spot, chatting away for a few moments of playing some sort of game and I remember one time, not long before I did lose that job that they’d possibly just all nearly gotten into trouble. I don’t have the details, I wasn’t exactly trying to eavesdrop. All I really got out of their discussion were snippets as I passed. Something about one of them needing to be the voice of reason as otherwise, they’d all have been in jail.

In a way, I guess that this made me realize that, just maybe, them excluding me from everything was possibly for the best. I didn’t need any type of behaviour that could have led to my being behind bars somewhere. That was one of the last things I really needed. I could barely afford my apartment at that point, losing money because I was in trouble with the law was not appealing.

If I look back and try to remember anything more about that situation, it feels as though I lost my job not very long after that. I know there were other reasons behind the loss of that job, but I don’t feel as though they really had any right to fire me. Not that I could argue that fact after everything was said and done and, possibly, in a way, it was for the best.

All of that is in the past, though; it doesn’t feel like that long ago, but I know that it was. I’d never planned on what I’d be doing with my life once I entered my thirties; not that I expected it to be a life-changing thing, but it did turn out to be. I mean, I know that some people used to make big deals about that ‘big ten’ change but I don’t really feel all that different about things. I never felt extra excited when I turned eighteen, or twenty-one. It’s just a number for me.

In this day and age, where keeping track of days isn’t as easy as it used to be, I know that a few people still try to keep track and I have a general idea of the day myself. I’m not sure if that day is completely the right one but I think I’m somewhat close. We might not have seasons anymore, not proper ones, but there still are mild changes to our temperature that remind me of the change in seasons, so I’ll keep up with that.

No, don’t make me choose. This is too much for me right now.

 
Timeline/World: Until Tomorrow – New York City
Characters: Siana Evans
Race: Human
Age: 31
Final Word Count: 713 words
 

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Looking at the woman behind the counter, Siana finds herself trying to keep her face neutral as the young man standing between her and said young woman shakes his head vehemently. Her height is the only reason why she has the view she currently has, though the man’s slightly diminutive stature—he couldn’t have been more than five feet tall—helped as well.

He had brought two blankets to the counter, things that had been found by the scavenging crews. Blankets likely found somewhere right below their feet as she vaguely recalled that this store had been a clothing boutique in its heyday; or, well, before the snow, in any case. The second floor—which had become their first—had likely been one of many apartments and had been turned into a bit of a storefront.

Since most clothing items and blankets and the rest were now on a limited supply with no means of getting anything new unless people learned the trade and somehow did find means to make these things, they were limited to certain things while they were in the store and that particular ‘law’ of theirs was the reason why Siana still was standing with just the small man between her and her freedom.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there but it felt like a small eternity—five minutes, ten, maybe? Not that long but it always felt longer when you had to wait—and the man still was undecided. The kind, slightly older woman behind the counter had reminded the man about the one-item rule and he’d balked. He’d started begging her not to make him choose, it was too much for him at that very point.

How could deciding between two blankets require much effort? Then again, Siana had never been overly materialistic. Even if she’d been, she never could have afforded the lifestyle in itself, so it was strange for her that anyone would struggle to pick between two blankets that, as far as she could see, looked identical.

Finally, the woman seemed to look up to her, shooting her an apologetic smile that was met with a small shrug as though to state it was all right. Clearly, it was not all right, however, as the man noticed the interaction—as though somehow he hadn’t sensed Siana just a few feet behind him, holding onto the one item she’d come to get—and turned to look at her. It was somewhat comical to see his eyes move from the height he’d been looking at and all the way up, up to her face. His eyes grew three sizes bigger if that was even at all possible and he then promptly left both blankets on the counter, mumbled something that could have been an apology and left.

Confused, Siana gave him a few moments until he was actually out of the store itself and to the counter. She offered up her own blanket—the irony of the situation was not lost on her—and gave the woman a smile as though to say that it was quite all right. It was neither of their faults, after all.

Her own blanket folded, Sia offered to help with the folding back of the other two blankets and, as they did, several smaller objects thudded to the floor. Having been tucked between the two blankets, the man had picked up several smaller objects to take. Had he not thought that the items would be folded for him to take home? Though Siana had seen people come out of the little place with the items just bunched in their arms and it made no sense to her.

Shaking her head once the blankets and other items were all put away once more, Siana offered the woman a quiet thank you and good day before she was back out into the bright sun of the day. Her own blanket folded carefully still in her arms. Their own had done its time, worn thin. Despite the generally warmer weather, the nights still were cool enough to require covering and she looked forward to the new blanket.

How people somehow still thought that stealing, in this day and age, was an option, was beyond her. It just made no sense.

We don’t have the time for more.

 
Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Siana Evans
Race: Human
Age: 30
Final Word Count: 661 words
 

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It’s weird how the end of the world can change someone. Well, no. I guess it’s not that weird, I just didn’t expect the end of the world to change me as much as it did but I’d like to think I’ve changed for the better and I do love every second of it.

I used to be so uncertain. I used to be the type of person who would walk with their shoulders pulled down, head held low. The part in this situation that clearly was not helpful is the fact that I am rather tall, especially for a woman. I was taller than pretty much everyone else on campus when I landed there and the job I had also wasn’t very conducive for healthy self-esteem.

Never mind that my roommate at the time was studying photography and I was her main model. She could do miracles with that camera of hers and it should have helped with my self-esteem but it didn’t.

Cue Marcus coming into my life. What did I ever do to deserve such a perfect person in my life? We both had and still have our quirks, we both have our positive and negative habits but there was something there that just made us click. As things have made a habit of in my life, shit hit the fan at some point, derailed everything, I think I lost too much weight to remain healthy and just, the whole thing was a mess. That end of the world? It changed me. It forced me to change; otherwise, I know I wouldn’t have survived this long.

It wasn’t much of a change, not at first. Not while we still were underground but once we were back on the surface, once I had to learn to know who I really still was, once I had to adapt to this new world. I changed. I say I changed but I know that it’s also Marc’s boundless patience with me and his love and affection that have helped me grow into the woman I am now.

I never thought of myself as pleasing to the eye but he clearly changed that. Though, mind you, I still really only see myself as pleasing to his eye and that’s probably the safest bet for me, I don’t want to think about what that might mean if others found me pleasing. I’d go right back into my shell. All of this just to get to the point that he’s helped me build my self-confidence to a point where I’m not usually too worried about initiating personal pleasurable things. That’s something that I never would have been able to do before.

Have you ever loved someone so much and craved their closeness so much that you lost track of time when faced with the potential offer of closeness? That’s me, in a nutshell, every so often. Especially in the mornings, when the air is still mostly fresh from overnight and the comforting scent and presence of him just wrap itself tight and snug about me. It makes me forget everything else.

I don’t think I can explain that almost petulant part of me that gets huffy when the rest of my brain somehow manages to remind it that there’s no time for more than just that sweet moment we’d just shared. No matter that I might want a little more, I just can’t and it’s the oddest thing in my brain. There’s this side that knows there’s no time but then there’s the other side arguing that it’ll just be a few more moments and well, all in all, it’s actually pretty amusing. I’m not going to deny that much, it is amusing.

To be quite honest, I never thought I would be living my life as I do now, let alone with this handsome, perfect match at my side and I intend to make the very best of it all.

I feel colder than ever.

Timeline/World: New York City – Surviving Earth
Characters: Siana Evans
Race: Human
Age: 27
Final Word Count: 544 words

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The sun is bright, it shines through the sheer curtains we found and made sure to hang over the windows for a semblance of privacy, though since we’re on the third—what used to be the fourth—floor of this building, privacy isn’t much of a worry to be had, we don’t really have any direct neighbours.

I can tell that the day is going to be another scorcher but all I can do is shiver miserably. For the past day or so I’ve known I was getting sick and I’ve been doing everything I can to get over it but this is one of these things that would usually kick me to the curb in a bad way and almost require hospitalization before. Not as much a possibility now so all I can do is hide under the mound of blankets that are ours and hope to sweat the bad out.

Those fevers are rare, it actually is just the first time I’ve had one since the huge storm that took almost everyone away. I had such a fever during our stay down in the bunkers, it was his first experience with it and I’d told him about them beforehand, I spent a couple of days with the doc, under medical watch and I pulled through just fine.

Doc had scripted me some extra vitamins and I’d done all I could to stretch them out longer but everything eventually runs out. Still being in the city, doc’s found me other means of keeping up with what I need but it obviously isn’t quite enough. I don’t want to have to be brought out to the lab; just the thought of being out there while I’m trying to sweat out the bad under my pile of blanket makes me want to cry.

Everything hurts, this fever makes me feel like I have the flu and I have to wonder if that’s all it really is. I’ve had instances of the flu before, almost every year and rarely in the winter and it never was this bad.

I feel like I’m freezing from the inside out and no amount of bundling up is warming me up any. I’ve already drunk down more steaming tea than I know I normally would, my bladder is telling me it would like for me to empty it but that would mean getting out from under my blankets and willing my muscles to not seize up on me.

I tried getting up just last night and that’s exactly what happened, I was on my feet one moment and the next I was dazed, on the floor and wondering just what had happened to me. After a while, I managed to go to the bathroom but that was it. I know I should empty my bladder but I’ve become pretty good at ignoring it, I just have a lot of emptying to do when I do get to it and it can wait until this thing passes… that or until Marcus gets back and he manages to talk me out of this burrito roll of blankets to try and take a few steps, do bathroom things, eat something while the sheets are changed and all.

Ugh, I just hate these fevers.