Tim Pieper

Remembering When the Sun Went Out

There's another empty booklet waiting for me on the desk, must be close to three years now. The first one was here when I appeared in this room, just a few days after the sun went out. The second was waiting on the desk after the three-hundred and sixtieth time the lights in my room went out. I can't remember what day or time it is, but I remember seeing the sun getting drawn into the dot and how quickly everything became cold. I wonder where my mom and dad are, I hope they were taken up too. Wish the voice wasn't so loud and demanding. The commands are beyond old and annoying. “HOW ABOUT TELLING ME WHY YOU TOOK ME FROM MY FAMILY!”