The sky was like analogue noise.

Michael and his father observed the waves crashing into the dusty sand, sitting on the porch of their new home on the beachside. Michael saw some children playing in the sand and smiled. He thought it’d be nice to make some new friends. For the moment he decided to keep the embrace of his father to shield from the cold breeze.

It’s a long way from what they used to call home.

It wasn’t easy for Michael to up and leave everything behind in the middle of the night, a long week ago. He still remembers the awful sound of his dad sobbing and begging to his mother. Though his father told Michael not to leave his room, he will never forget the dead vacant stare his mother had when he peeked through his doorway. Two cold, soulless eyes, staring straight into his soul. Though he knew something was wrong with her for a while, he was too young to possibly understand.

All he could do was trust his father, who vowed that night to drive them far far away, where he would be safe.

Michael scanned the length of the coastline. It stretched long and far into the distance. Of all the dull, repetitive buildings that lined it’s margins, one stood out to him. A tall slender bell tower that loomed like a satellite over the town. His father told him that the bell was an old way of letting the town know that they were in danger. Although it’s use has been retired, something about the strange tower gave Michael a welcome feeling of security. While he embraced the concept of new beginnings, Michael still longed for his mother. He wanted to ask his father if they’ll ever reunite, but the look in his fathers face the night they ran away gave him all the answer he needed.

That day they walked around and got familiar with their surroundings. The town was a lot smaller and more cramped than what Michael was used to. No vibrant neon lights or busy intersections. The market, hospital, and school were but a short walk away from each other. He appreciated the thought of not needing a school bus anymore. He was able to catch a glimpse of the playground and saw several children out to recess. A much smaller group than where he was from. He had a lot of changes to get used to. His father made him wait as he went into the shop to get a paper, and Michael looked down the long stretch of road leading out of town. The road disappeared into a far away fog. He looked back at was to be called his new home, and listened to the soft whisper of the wind.

Later that night Michael’s father was getting him into bed. Though Michael was very tired from his long week of traveling, he dreaded going to bed. Ever since he left, it’s always the same nightmare every night. His mother, sitting against the wall, with a mannequin’s expression.

Her cold dead stare.

Michael’s father asked if he liked their new home. Michael told him it was fine, but both him and his father knew that Michael was still in shock from the events of the week previous. His father tried to comfort him in the best way he could, explaining that where they once lived was no longer safe for them. He trusted his father, and knew that what they were doing was for the best. They wished each other goodnight and his father went off to bed. Though Michael’s mind was cluttered, he was far too tired to think, and finally fell into a deep sleep as the bell tolled.

The next morning, Michael’s father started to forget.

Michael awoke, checking his clock and realizing he was late for the first day of school. His father was supposed to wake him, but it didn’t matter, Michael assumed he slept in. He hurried out the door to yet another cold, overcast day. The complete absence of people in the streets was alien to him. He thought that even small towns would have morning traffic, but there’s not a car in sight.

Michael was alone.

The shift from crowded streets to near isolation was jarring, but Michael knew he would get used to it.

He finally arrived at the school, and jogged through it’s halls. He found his classroom and slowly opened the door to a nearly empty classroom. Only three desks had students in them, and there was no teacher. Confused, he asked where the teacher was. One of the students shrugged. The other told him that it’s been fifty minutes since class started and since has not shown. Most of the other students left for home, assuming school was cancelled without notification, while the remaining three stayed just in case. Bewildered, Michael found a desk and sat himself and watched one of the students draw on the chalk board.

A short while passed and still no-one. The only children remaining were Michael and a girl sitting up front. Michael felt like he waited long enough, and got up into the hallway. He walked through the dim halls and looked through the classrooms. All of them dark and empty, save for some with one or two children waiting in their seats. He finally made his way to the supervisor’s office. He knocked and waited. Silence. He looked down the dusty halls of the school. The vacancy started to unsettle his stomach. He knocked again, then again. He tried the door, but it was locked. It seemed as if the supervisor never arrived to the school. He went back to look in his classroom, but this time it was completely empty. He shouted through the halls, hoping to for someone elsewhere to hear him, but the only response was his own echoes.

Michael was alone.

He left the school and headed through the empty streets back home. The fog seems to have thickened it’s perimeter around the town. A small creeping feeling of isolation began to sweep over Michael. He picked up his pace to a jog as his footsteps echoed in the streets. He finally made his way back to the beach and into his house. He was looking forward to talking to his father after the bizarre couple of hours he’s experienced.

He found him sunken into the chair in the center of the living room, quietly sobbing. Quickly worried, Michael began to comfort him and ask what happened. His father looked at him and told him that he couldn’t remember.

Michael asked what he was talking about, confused. He started to sob harder.

I don’t remember who you are

Michael didn’t know how to take this. He knew that he was his son, how could he forget? He thought this must have been some kind of game. He tried to tell him through his muffled sobs, but he kept repeating himself. Michael began to tear up at the sight of his father. In his short time of living, he’s never seen his father cry, he didn’t even think of the possibility that adults could cry. This wasn’t a game.

WHERE ARE WE

His dad began to yell through his tears. Michael became very frightened. His father looked at him with wild confusion.

WHO ARE YOU

Michael started to cry. Those words crashed down on him and flooded his mind. His head began to ache and his stomach growled. Though he was his father, he was acting like someone else entirely. Michael bolted out the door, crying and yelling for help. His call echoed through the empty streets, with no answer but his father’s muffled yells.

He took off down the street toward the hospital. He thought perhaps his father was suffering from some disease and was going senile. The wind began to pickup and fog grew tighter around the town. The dreadful sensation of isolation began to take over his mind. He didn’t want to lose his father. The hospital appeared in sight. Michael prayed that the doors be unlocked as he grabbed it’s handle. The heavy door gave way to his push and he entered the hospital.

The lobby was empty.

The lights were on, as was the conditioning. Someone had to be here.

HELP

ANYONE PLEASE HELP

PLEASE

He shouted as loud as he possibly could. No answer came. The thought of his dad suffering at home kept piercing his mind. He ran through the doors into the empty halls. Every room was empty. No doctors. Patients. Anyone. He began to lose hope and ran back, thinking maybe there was another wing. When he got back into the lobby his heart dipped in ice.

A person sat against the entrance wall, previously unseen by Michael. He had no expression. He just stared coldly into space, as if his mind was a blank slate. Awake, but unaware.

Just like his mother.

He sprinted home. His mind racing. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. Over and over like a broken record. Not him. Not him. God please. Not him.

He opened the door. There in the middle of the room, he sat in his chair, staring at the wall in front of him. Michael slowly inched his way forward, each step filling him with dread. His sound brought no attention to his father. He couldn’t bare to look and shut his eyes as he made it across the room. Then he opened his eyes.

The once kind and loving eyes of his father were now cold, soulless. No expression. Stiff. Lifeless.

He held his father tightly and sobbed loudly into his shoulder. His heart was beating, his flesh was warm. No matter how hard he cried, or how hard he held him, his father remained still. He couldn’t bare to look into his mannequin face.

Michael ran outside and screamed into the blanket of fog. He screamed until he had no voice. He attempted to run, but the dense fog gave him no sense of direction. His head turned dizzy and his stomach sick. He prayed that someone somewhere would hear his cries for help. No one ever would.

Michael was alone.

The fog started to clear and he found himself at the foot of the ocean. The previously roaring wind was gone, and was replaced with silence. He stared out into the blank abyss in front of him.

Then, Michael started to forget.

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