December 21, 2012
10:00pm
Amy Carter- 14 years old
The ancient Mayans predicted that on December 21, 2012 the world would end. I had always thought it as superstition and never believed a word. It's just a calendar that was never finished. There is nothing magical about a calendar other than helping us keep track of the days. We aren't stupid. New ones can be made. However, people are just superstitious and believe all the useless junk that is spilled out into the world. It's pathetic.
Now that the frightful day is upon us, people are more on edge. The wait for midnight is tense. I had even found myself glancing at the clock more often. I sat in the living room with my parents, feet curled under me, watching the news. We left California about a week ago to stay with a friend and her husband's family in Minnesota. Tensions were raising pain stakingly high with North Korea and we could no longer take it. Only yesterday did they test more nuclear warheads in the Pacific Ocean. The feeling of being on edge was enough. It had gotten to the point where the high school I attended locked down the school and escorted every student to their classrooms. It was maddening to not be able to step foot outside. I had never been much of an outdoors person but I can only be cooped up inside for so long.
"Are you guys hungry?" a voice asked. I turned in the direction of the sound to find the friend we left California with, Jamie, standing in the door way of the kitchen. She had thinned down over the years that I'd known her but at that moment, she looked sickly. Her hair lay limp and dull and her skin had an ugly grey tint to it. Her eyes were surrounded by dark circles emphasizing her lack of sleep.
"No." I replied, shaking my head. My parents did the same, not taking their eyes off the television screen. Jaime nodded and went back into the kitchen without another word. I looked back at the clock in the corner of the television screen. 10:03pm. Damn, I thought. Still almost two hours until it is officially December 22. So close yet so far.
"… Korean president Kim Jong-Il has assured that there will be no attack on the U.S. The missiles launched yesterday are defensive projectiles intended to protect North Korea against attack…"
"That's bullshit!" My father yelled at the screen, his hands thrown above his head in frustration. I waited for the remote to be thrown, or the whole damn television for that matter, but he just ran his hand through his hair, an attempt to control the anger. He's been doing that a lot lately.
No one seemed to believe in the media. Neither did me. It's all empty hope that confirm the very fears we posses. I'd rather not think of them. We can't avoid it though. Everywhere we turn, there it is in front of our faces reminding us that the end is upon us and there is nothing we can do.
Half an hour passed by without much more than empty reassurances by the media and even more silence between those in the room. Minutes seemed like hours but slowly the clock wound down to the final minutes of December 21. It was agonizing to stare at the clock- hoping, praying, and pleading- waiting for it to change into that magical number 12. Jaime and her family had joined us out in the living room with sullen hopeless faces. It saddened me to see these children shaking in fear, no hope that they would survive the night in their eyes. That angered me more than anything that these kids had no hope and their parents, who did not reassure them that they would be alright, confirmed their hopelessness.
The five minute countdown came up on the screen. We seemed to be in the clear. We could have survived to live another day. We even let ourselves relax at the two minute mark. That was a mistake because at the 00:01:42, the bombs rained down.