Liminal Spaces
Tuesday 6:00 AM
As usual, little Jenny dreaded getting up in the morning. Only if she could sleep until noon, that would be heaven she thought. It was a school day. She had two tests, math and history that she didn’t really study for. Jenny just wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. But she knew she was she had to get up and face the day. The sun was peering through the curtains and hitting her face like thorns. Tuesday was garbage day and any second now, the loud sounds of the trucks will fill her ears along with the obnoxious workers making a ruckus with the bins and talking on top of their lungs. Usually. The noise that she hates more than anything didn’t start. Not today. Jenny opened her eyes and opened her curtains. The sun shone onto an empty street. Not even the birds were chirping, no neighbourhood dogs were barking, total silence. Slowly, Jenny made her way downstairs. She expected her mother to be making breakfast and her dad to pace up and down looking for his keys and socks and what not. No one. Jenny walked up to their room and opened the door. Their bed was neatly made up like. Something wasn’t right. In fact, something was very wrong. Jenny put on her robe and ran outside to see what is going on. It was cold. The sun was now above the horizon lighting up her street slowly. Jenny frantically looked back and forth. She went to the Chang’s next door and knocked on the door praying that they were home. She looked into their window, no one inside. Her heart was starting to beat at a hundred miles and hour.
She ran out to the middle of the street and yelled.
“Hello!”
No one answered.