Subjectivity of any Catastrophe

Picture by Fefegg (Copyright) for this blog

Day 1
Valentine's Day. I'm in love. His name is Paul and we started dating a month ago. He plays for our highschool's rugby team and is so cute. I would cry his name when walking down the street, I would have his name tattoed on my shoulder, I would write a song for him... Today everything in me is red, from my heart to my underwear.
- Paul, I'm crazy for you!
In this past month we have kissed seventeen times and a half. I love everything in him: his lips, his grey eyes, his muscles, the way he says "whas up?" as if nothing ever happened. He is so sweet, so attentive... so Paul.

Day 2
I hate him. When he saw me, dressed up in red, he just laughed in my face and called me "crazy bitch". I wanted to kill him right there, as he had shown me up in front of Mary Jane and the rest of the cheerleaders. Within a few minutes everyone at highschool had heard about my being laughed at and my popularity rating was falling sharply. Crying my eyes out, I returned home following a crack that had opened all along the street dividing it into two halves. As if the street were a true reflection of my heart, split in two because of stupid Paul.

Day 3
My mother does not give a shit about my drama with Paul. She keeps worrying about Dennis, who did not return home last night. His mobile phone is switched off and she cannot help wondering, if he is OK. But what can I tell you? If you have a stupid brother, what can you expect from him except stupid things? He will show up sooner or later! But mom does not get it: she just keeps screwing me around, as if I did not have my own problems.
Mary Jane and Sarah have avoided me at highschool. I am no longer that popular girl who is worth spending their time with. I am just the laughing stock, the crazy bitch.
As I was returning home after the history lesson, I was surprised to see that the crack in the street was already several inches wide. Small branches seemed to come out of it and ran towards the houses placed on both sides of the street. I came across Sam, the "freak" in my class, a zero in popularity, who told me to mind that crack, as if it were going to eat me up. Earlier freaks did not even dare looking at me, but now they expect me to join their ranks. But they are sadly mistaken if they think I am doing it: my being unpopular does not imply that I am silly.

Day 4
Today I have seen Paul and Mary Jane holding hands in the courtyard. No need to say that my heart missed a beat at that moment. Yes, I have to admit that I still love that fool. And you, Mary Jane, get ready, because sooner or later you will pay for it! And when I was still trying to assimilate this, I was approached by Sam and another two freaks, who asked me if I would join some study group they were organizing. Come on, as if I needed any learning.
My mother called the police. Apparently my brother is not the only one that is missing.
The journalists have occupied the streets and talk to the neighbours while looking sideways at the crack, which is already preventing cars from going along the street. It is already half a metre wide and if you stop on its rim and look down, you can distinguish a shocking green liquid at the bottom whose disgusting smell has started spreading all over the area. The branches of the crack seem to climb up the walls of the houses, giving them a decaying appearance.
My father says that everything has to do with the nuclear cemetery placed 25 kms from the village. For many years uranium has been thrown down there, as if it were a bottomless pit, and all that shit had to go somewhere.

Day 5
Today our classes at school have been cancelled. The mayor has asked us to stay at home until they solve this problem with the crack. The green liquid, which has already reached the surface, runs along the streets destroying everything in its way. Journalists have been replaced by soldiers and tanks. Gunshots can be heard from time to time.
My mother has left home for food and Dennis. I asked her to bring me some nail polish and she yelled at me. She asked how the hell I could be thinking of my nails at this moment. So much fuss for such a silly thing. Was it so hard for her to get me that polish? She was going to the supermarket anyway! She slammed the door when leaving but has not returned. To hell with her, to hell with everyone.

Day 6
Paul called last night.
- Is it Mary Jane?
- No, asshole. It's Donna.
- Oh, sorry! - he said laughing. - Whas up?
- My nail polish is gone and my mother and brother are missing ... And you, how are you?
- Well, just that this curfew is a bore. Some friends and me are meeting at Nico's in a few minutes, are you coming?
After which we heard an annoying bombing that kept us in silence for an eternity. From my room's window, on the first floor, I could see some strange shadows walking down the street.
- Of course, - I said when that deafening noise stopped. - See you there in half an hour.
For some minutes I was the happiest girl in the world. Until I went downstairs and found my father blocking the front door, so as to make sure I was going nowhere.
- Where do you think you are going, girl? - he told me. - This is something serious, don't you see?
Of course it was serious, I was meeting Paul! Despite my tantrum, he did not let me go.
I have tried to phone Paul several times since then, but his phone has no coverage.

Day 7
The bombing has stopped. Our fridge is empty. I found a few cereal bars in my cupboard and shared them with my father. No electricity, no telephone. A trickle of greenish water comes out of the tap and we do not dare drinking it.
At noon, someone has knocked at the front door. My father, who had barred all the doors and windows, did not want to open. But from my window I saw Paul and Mary Jane, who asked me to let them in with gestures. An army of strange green beings seemed to come after them. I made signs to them so that they went towards the kitchen door. I got the door open just enough to let Paul in. Mary Jane was left out.
- Jesus Christ! - she screamed. - Let me go in, Donna!
Who was laughing now, huh? Just a few seconds later we heard her struggling, a stifled cry and that must have been her tragic end. My father came into the kitchen shortly after and asked who the guy was.
- My name is Paul, sir, - he introduced himself. - Whas up?

Day 8
They are trying to get in. Dad is reinforcing the doors and windows with the help of Paul. And I cannot help thinking about Paul's muscles, his grey eyes... and that I am going to die at the age of 15 and being a virgin. I watched the street from my room's window and I got chills just for thinking that these creatures might kill us all. But no matter what they do, there is one thing they can never take away from us: the true love that Paul and I feel for each other.

Day 9
They are inside. I know nothing about my father. Paul crawled upstairs a while ago and begged me to open the door for him. But I was so scared that I completely forgot that he was the love of my life. At that moment, it was only my own survival that mattered. Ignoring his pleas, I nestled in a corner and prayed that God existed and had mercy on me.

Day 10
Sam and his colleagues rescued me a few hours ago. Somehow they have managed to make a weapon which has sent all those creatures back to the hole where they belong.
We are a small number of survivors walking towards the outskirts of town. Sam, who has become a real hero, is leading the group. A while ago he asked me if I wanted to be his girlfriend and I did not hesitate for a moment. I would cry his name when walking down the street, I would have his name tattoed on my shoulder, I would write a song for him... My popularity rating is going up at such a quick pace that I feel a bit dizzy. I'm happy, I'm popular, I'm in love. What more can I ask for?

Spanish version