The Death of Dae Anne
The moment that earthquake came, the very first moment, I knew that I wouldn't live to see my 13th birthday.
The house shook as if it were a doll house being picked up by some rowdy 3-year-olds. Pictures flew from the walls, random objects crashed to the ground, screams of my family of 4 could be heard. But it felt as though I was alone.
I could hear them calling. "DAE ANNE! DAE, WHERE ARE YOU?" But I couldn't respond. I couldn't remember how.
I could feel tears trailing down my cheeks as the table slid into me, hitting my side and surely breaking a few ribs.
I felt like I was in a tunnel, watching everything going on from the opposite end. It was chaos.
Pure chaos.
I felt hands grab my shoulders, pulling me away. My side ached but I was already in enough pain to make me numb. I was being pulled away from the mess my home had once been, and I felt a moment of grief for all the materialistic things that were destroyed. But as soon as I saw the rest of the neighborhood, my gritty eyes widened and new tears traced lines through the dust on my face.
It was like the stuff you see in movies. A huge crack struck right through the street like a scar, with cars hanging over the edge and many probably already fallen in.
Suddenly, the ground shook again, more violently than the first time.
People screamed as the crack doubled in size, more cars and people falling in. The hands that had pulled me out of my home were gone, and I realized with a start that they had most likely fallen in as well.
Abruptly, I felt my body moving, sliding down into the crack. I grabbed for the edge, but I was already too far down.
I was falling now, and somehow, I felt glad. If the world was ending, I wouldn't have to see it happening, to live without my family and friends, to feel the immense dread of loneliness.
I closed my eyes as I fell deeper and deeper, and wondered briefly how far it went.
Then it was over, and black clouded my vision.
I was dead.
But at least I wasn't alone.