12:47

June 5, 2050

I pull over in front of the weathered mailbox. Ravens gather in the pines and aspens overhead. Their deep, resonant croaks echo through the quiet morning air. Leaves shake free from their restless shuffling, spilling over the windshield. With every glance, the neatly wrapped present on the passenger seat grows heavier.

The conversation with my uncle last week hangs over me while I pick at the loose threads hanging from the scratched steering wheel cover.

“You should come.” His voice flowed through my earbuds. “He’ll be happy to see you.”

“I don’t know… It took you over a year to get him to answer my calls.”

“He’s stubborn. Always has been.”

“He hung up on me after two minutes.”

“He didn’t know what to say.”

“You think I did?” Tears threatened to form, stinging my nose. “What makes you think seeing me will be any different?”

He sighed into the phone. “I know…”

“Either way, I’m swamped getting ready for graduate school. I can’t risk being unprepared, not after everything I’ve been through to get here.”

“It’s been four years. How much longer are you going to avoid seeing him?”

I stayed silent, trapped behind a wall of my own indecision.

“Well… if you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

Even after I hung up, worst-case scenarios spun and collided faster than I could breathe. What if he hates me? What if he wants nothing to do with me? What if… The decision churned in my head. My uncle’s invitation looped relentlessly, urging me to go until I finally slid into the car and drove here.

I follow the ridges along the bark of the pines until the patterns twist into a senseless knot. The empty dashboard offers no solutions. Beyond it, the first trickles of morning cascade across the trees, illuminating the pathway between them. Hesitation gives way to a longing I can no longer ignore. I ease off the brake and turn down the dirt road toward the cabin I called home for over fourteen years.

Squirrels scurry into the brush, mere flickers of movement in my periphery. The forest closes in. Low branches scrape against the roof, and trees blur together until time loses its shape.

Finally, the cabin emerges. Two cars sit off to the side, their windows reflecting the sunlight in a blinding glare.

I steer into the driveway. Gravel spits and crunches beneath the tires.

My uncle Elijah jolts upright from his trunk. He rubs the back of his head, squinting at my car before breaking into a grin. “I thought you said you couldn’t make it!”

I fiddle with the keys and push the door open. “My dad only turns fifty once.”

He wraps his arms around me, loosening the pressure in my chest.

The looming presence of the cabin comes back into frame, demanding my attention. “Do you really think he’ll be happy to see me?”

“Of course!” He ruffles my hair and turns around to grab his bags from the trunk.

I reach into the car, nearly fumbling the gift’s glossy wrapping before I secure my grip. Shadows move across the porch’s dark windows. The world contracts to the confines of the driveway.

“Are you coming, or do you want to stand outside all day?” Elijah holds the front door open.

A shaky laugh catches in my throat. I dig into the edges of the box, creating tiny crinkles on the paper. The weathered steps groan beneath me.

My father’s back comes into view while he rummages through the kitchen cabinets, setting different types of cups on the counter. I inch forward, each movement smaller than the last, but the floorboards betray me with a drawn-out creak.

He locks his gaze onto mine.

I freeze.

Silence washes over the room. Thoughts spiral on fast-forward with the urge to run and hide. Beneath his unending stare, I shrink to the size of an ant, searching for cover.

He sets his glass down, rushes over, and scoops me into an overdue embrace. I bury my face into him, soaking his bomber jacket.

“It’s been too long.” He pulls back and traces my cheekbones with his thumbs. His deep blue eyes reflect the vast oceans of love he carries, drawing me in. “You’re still as beautiful as ever. Welcome home, my little angel.”

The tenderness in his tone crashes over me. In all my doomsday scenarios, I never pictured this.

I hold my breath, extending the present toward him. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

“Thank you.” A wide, messy grin breaks through. “You didn’t have to get me anything. Having you here is the greatest gift.”

My uncle’s bags rattle the table, shattering the delicate moment. “So, how’s it feel being a part of the first graduating class in twelve years!”

“It’s been good…” I press my fingers into my thighs.

Lines deepen along my father’s forehead, and his gaze wanders past me. He manages only a ghost of a smile before disappearing into the kitchen.

My uncle whispers, “Don’t worry about him. He’ll come around.”

Nothing about my father has changed, not really, except for the scraggly beard with hints of gray peeking through his dark hair.

Even the furniture is in the same spot. The torn-up red armchair is waiting in its usual corner. I outline the shape where he would sit for hours watching me play or do my homework. Dirt puffs up from the faded fabric of the rug with each step. The shelf still holds my childhood drawings, bursting with color.

Dust coats my fingertips as they glide over the sofa table, brushing the familiar note where I left it. It can’t be… Tear-smudged ink sprawls across the paper, its margins curling.

Dad,

I’m sorry I can’t tell you this in person. I got accepted into the program to be a part of the first graduating class since the war. Please don’t hate me. I couldn’t stay and live like this forever. I need to get away and be my own person, at least for a while. I promise I’ll call as soon as I get there, and I’ll visit when I can.

Love,
Your little angel

It falls back into place, each pen stroke etched in my memory. I should have stayed.

“We’re almost done in here if you want to get settled on the couch!” Elijah shouts. “I found some old home videos in my garage the other day.”

I wipe the wetness from my skin and dart to the couch, sinking into the cushions. Laughter floats in from the kitchen.

Elijah comes over, clutching one of his bags. He pulls out a stack of discs and hands them to me. “Which one should we start with?”

I flip through them, skimming the black permanent marker sprawled across each one. Eric’s 7th Birthday, Elijah’s 5th Grade Field Trip, Christmas 2008, Eric and Selene’s Wedding. I pause, unable to take my focus away from the last disc.

“I didn’t realize there was a video.” The words tumble out in a breathless exhale.

Elijah takes it. “I didn’t even know that was in here.” He slides it into the DVD player and nestles into the corner of the sofa.

My father walks in, balancing a tray of snacks. The aroma of buttered popcorn and barbecue chips wafts in with him. He sits next to me and draws me close. Memories of our movie nights bleed together in an endless sea of heated blankets, tear-soaked tissues, and unpopped kernels.

Twinkling lights brighten the display, and piano music streams from the speakers. My parents’ names fade in with bold, graceful lettering: Eric and Selene Caelum. A veil flows in the breeze, and petals drift across the aisle. The camera pans up to my mother. I blink against a watery sting, blurring her face into a smudge of colors. She walks down in a silvery dress, an angel wrapped in a wispy silhouette and kissed by the heavens, with golden rays glittering around her.

On screen, tears spill down my father’s cheeks. Elijah stands beside him, the best man, followed by his best friend, Michael, both dressed in dark suits.

Narselli shines in the pale blue of the wedding party, silver hair cuffs framing her features. Every aspect of her is brimming with life. I bury the haunting image of the last time I saw her and focus on the faces in the audience glistening during the vows.

My father tips my mother back into a kiss. Happiness radiates from him. He holds her hand through the crowd with a light I have never seen before. Every frame catches the sparkle in their eyes while laughter spills into the night. Candlelight ripples across swirling dresses and dancing feet, the celebration alive in every shimmer and step.

Beside me, my father sniffles, and I notice him raising his sleeve.

I nudge him gently. “I can’t believe how young the three of you look!”

He manages a wobbly smile, a quiet ache hiding behind it. “Twenty-six years takes a lot out of you.”

“Speak for yourself!” Elijah cuts in, crossing his arms. “I’ve aged like fine wine. But Michael…” He shakes his head. “I swear he hasn’t aged a day.”

“When is he supposed to get here?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” My father shrugs. “I haven’t checked my phone, but he’ll probably get here closer to when the party starts.”

“Yeah, so you’re stuck with the two of us for the next three hours.” Elijah bumps my shoulder. “Which is good because we have a lot of family videos to go through.”

I turn my attention back to the just-married sign as they drive away and the footage fades to black.

Elijah leans forward to slip the next disc in. “If you thought we looked young back then, wait until you see this one. It’s from Eric’s seventh birthday.”

The retro colors of their childhood backyard fill the screen. My uncle looms behind my father, standing in front of his birthday cake. He blows out the candles, and Elijah strikes, plunging his face into it.

Chaos erupts as my father chases his older brother across the backyard with a handful of dessert. A frosting-covered grin shines through while he smears it all over Elijah’s features. They hug, rubbing icing on each other’s shirts, until my grandmother swoops in with the real cake.

The television cuts to black before shining brightly. Robotic beeps slam through the speakers. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to a national emergency warning banner.

Before I can read it, an automated voice plays. “This is a message from the Emergency Alert System. This is not a test. The Department of Health and Human Services, in coordination with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, has issued a national public health emergency following reports of a rapidly spreading disease of unknown origin. Within the past six hours, officials have confirmed over a million fatalities across all twenty-nine states.

“Everyone should remain indoors, avoid contact with people outside of their household, and await further instructions from their state’s officials. Symptoms appear suddenly and escalate rapidly. This is a developing situation. Stay tuned to official news sources and government channels for real-time updates. Repeat: This is not a test.”

My grandmother reappears, slicing pieces of cake and handing them out to everyone. Chills ripple through my muscles, pinning me in place. Thoughts swirl while I struggle to grasp what I just heard. I open my mouth as if to speak, but no sound comes out.

Elijah silently grabs the remote and turns on the news.

A frantic reporter covers the headline. “Hours ago, reports started flooding in from around the world of people dropping dead. It’s too early to estimate the number of lives lost, but judging from what’s coming in, we’ve never seen anything like this.”

In the background, videos flash with thousands of the dead piled in body bags. Flowers shrivel, grass browns, and animals fall. Car crashes line the streets, blood covering their smashed windshields. People run in every direction. The images blur together, too much to take in.

“The cause for these sudden deaths is yet to be known, but experts say we could be looking at a rapidly spreading airborne virus. They suggest people stay inside and mask up until they find a way to combat this deadly pathogen.”

“This can’t be happening…” I wrap my fingers tightly around my father’s arm.

“Some are disintegrating, others are imploding, and some are bleeding out through—” The reporter convulses, his voice breaking. “Throu—”

Crimson streams from his eyes and nose, while he gasps uncontrollably. His body collapses limp over the table. Blood pools beneath him, siphoning the light from his gaze fixed vacantly on the camera.

The broadcast cuts to black.

Elijah flips through the channels, searching for anything that isn’t covering the nightmare unfolding outside. Every one shows the same thing—frantic clips of scarlet-tinted bodies running, sirens flashing, and fire exploding across streets behind distraught reporters. Chaos consumes the screen, spilling over the edges.

“This can’t be happening.” Every ragged breath sets my pulse hammering, wild and uneven. There’s no way this is happening. I didn’t just watch someone die live on television. Everything is going to be fine. We are going to be fine.

I rush from the couch and pace around the living room. With each step, thousands of people lose their lives.

The logs behind the television blur. I stumble back and forth, chewing my thumbnail, glued to the disaster escalating before us. This isn’t real. It can’t be. Heat surges through me, tightening my chest. The world sharpens and spins until the floor tilts beneath me.

My father and uncle scream my name.

Numbness sweeps through every limb while darkness swallows my consciousness.

[END OF EXCERPT]

© 2026 Luna Ann