Genesis

• Sharon Onyemgba, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2020

Crusty boxes compiled unorderly in the bare living room like an idle loading screen, sitting and waiting to move. My limbs hung lazily and I carelessly drop myself on the cling wrapped sofa, each tear in the thread now plastered visibly and shiny. Why did we have to move? Half of the furniture in this house isn’t even ours, not to mention the blatant fact it’s all eons and eons old.
“Samara!” A voice bellowed, I winced at the dry rasp in the voice, a sigh escapes my mouth as if I formed a routine, and I very well did. Go upstairs, get him a beer, come back down again.

Simple as pie.

My lethargic steps trudge up the hardwood stairs as I momentarily glance down the hall. A mirror sits on a vermillion-stained wooden shrine. Laced with gold leaf and shimmery glass sculptures entangle the corners. Each identical to one another.

Intriguing.

I pause for a last glance. Only a moment, and continue my brief journey. Until I hear a whisper. Air catches in my throat and my steps come to a sudden halt. Could it be? No! I huff under my breath and hesitantly continue. But then the whispers linger in the air like an entrancing sirens song. My face wrinkles. I don’t know if it wrinkled in fear or indecisiveness.

Not as simple as I thought.
Carl Sagan once said “If you wish to make a pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe”

I just need an escape...With a swift swivel on my foot. I retreat from my previous destination and pace towards my reflection. My thumbs grip the hemming of my pockets as I nervously reach the table.
The mirror was glossy and cracked, distorting my reflection. My hands trail to my face as I carefully observe. My eyes seemed deeper in this mirror. Blacker. And my chocolate brown hair was now carbon black, the light around me was completely drained.

Curious, I reach to run my fingers over the crack, stopping only centimetres away. Till I notice a fault. Her hand begins inching towards me, past the mirror. Fear and regret pulses through my veins, only to be replaced with adrenaline. But it’s too late. Her fingers nails catch my skin, digging deep and drawing a metallic crimson liquid. I want to scream, but what energy will I use? Adrenaline alone cannot fuel me, so I close my eyes and let myself be spellbound.

A thick warp of crisp air collapses in my lungs. My eyes shot open in a flurry of mixed emotions. Am I dead? The blackness around me almost distracted me from my ‘self-napping’ and the fractured mess dispersed behind me. I look around, only to feel a rumble underneath my feet. Then it clicks. ‘You must first invent the universe’. An unborn universe lay in front of me. A mission, just at its genesis. This is the big bang. This is my pie…