Chanteyl LeJoie

Still & Silent Earth

Still & Silent Earth By: Chanteyl LeJoie I heard the rustle outside and immediately I knew they were there. Had they found me? Or was this just a general search and they’d happened upon my hiding place? I wasn’t sure, but I held my breath and waited, still listening to determine which direction they were headed in. The earth was dark these days; no streetlights, no real stars, and you hardly ever saw the moon anymore. There was no more noise anymore either. They’d cleared out the bugs—trying to kill the pests—it actually started with the bees. Slowly but surely our ecosystem deteriorated, until now there was no noise of crickets in the evening or birds in the early morning. The food chain was destroyed, and now there were only us. I say us, but I was not one of those people out there. Those people had formed gangs, factions, and entire new governments. There were wars and everyone lost someone; most lost everyone. My parents were young and fit, so when the draft was called my parents were both called up, and they dropped me and my baby sister off with our grandmother who we hadn’t seen much of in most of our young lives. She wasn’t a traditional grandmotherly grandma; she was cool and young in her own mind, and never had time for knitting, cooking, or storytelling. You know, grandma stuff. She didn’t exactly want two small children either, but times were changing drastically. Even so, I remember eavesdropping on the conversation and having heard my mother beg my father to talk to her, and in turn he had to beg his mother to keep us. Options were limited, or, better yet, nonexistent. Begrudgingly she kept us, fed and clothed us, and in her own way she prepared us for the world we were now living in. I’ll never know how she knew so much about what would happen. She was so paranoid, but now I appreciate her for it. Because now I’m hiding out in the trunk of an old, rusty sedan, listening for what—or who—made that rustling sound just outside. What did they even rustle against? This was an old salvage yard full of rusted out vehicles. The cars stopped running once they tapped out all of the fossil fuels, and everyone seemed surprised when the power grid failed. It started with bombings and hackings, until eventually it was too far gone for repair, and we were all left in a world of darkness. My grandma wasn’t surprised. She’d been telling us it would happen all along and giving us tips and lessons on how to navigate and use the dark to our advantage. That was a good thing, because there was nearly only darkness and painfully long nights that were teamed up with sweltering days that were hot, and too bright to see in. The sun was not your friend, it was your mortal enemy. Many people learned the hard way what solar radiation was, and how quickly heatstroke can occur and claim a life. It wasn’t worth it to even try and venture out during the day. There was no grass, no trees, no bugs, no dogs. Nothing made noise anymore except for potential enemies. All that remained were variations of what used to be human beings who were now left to their own devices to figure out how to run things. We, as a species, were not doing well at all.