Happy Birthday To Me

• Lillian King, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2022

“Happy Birthday to me.”
The words feel strange coming out of my mouth. It feels wrong, like I shouldn’t be celebrating this day given my current situation.
“Happy Birthday to me.”
The words exit my lips as I sit on the ground, in the middle of what used to be a busy road. My tattered party hat from many years before falls from my head and onto the bitumen while my head falls into my calloused hands.
“Happy Birthday to….me.”
My sobs pierced the silence of an uninhabited Earth. Everyone on this planet lost hope and moved on to another ‘Earth’. They left me behind along with a polluted and torn world. They left me behind because I refused to give up on the Earth. Well, look where that’s left me.
“Happy…. Birthday….to….”
I can’t even bring myself to say that last word. This celebratory song that I’m singing in solitude has officially broken me. Tears stream down my face, leaving tracks on my cheeks that burn like scars, digging their way into my body, leaving their mark and never wanting to be forgotten. A scream of choked up tears and pure rage escapes my mouth. Or maybe it came from inside me, the place where the real war is waging. Being alone for almost 10 months drives you insane. You hallucinate, you lose track of time, you lose your sense of self, you become disconnected from your own body. Then you start to question, the worst part. You wonder if you’re crazy, you walk around with false hope then crumple to the ground a second later, you believe you’re going insane, which is not nearly as fun as it sounds. You lose your mind.
I sit on the bitumen for hours, or maybe it was seconds. It’s hard to tell sometimes. The sky turns black as I turned my tear stained face towards the sky. I find the tiny speck in the sky where I know they all are. I wonder if it’s nice up there on Mars. I wonder if they can see Earth. Maybe they are wondering what is happening back at their old home. A subtle breeze blows across the road, an old piece of paper carried along in its wake. I grab the paper out of the air. To my surprise, there is writing on it.
The plan is in place. Now that everyone is off Earth, they think they are safe. The explosives are ready. Once everyone is on Mars, we will be ready. Let’s blow humanity up.
I can’t breathe. Whoever wants this wants to blow up the human race. By why did they have to move them all to Mars first?
When we are finished and we unleash the AI, we can go back and colonise a better Earth.
The paper falls from my hand. I can’t stop shaking. I look up at the sky and find Mars. I have to stop whoever is behind this.
Happy Birthday to me.