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  • Writer's pictureEva Nel Brettrager

The Suns Rise and Fall

In the beginning I was counting. Each time the sun rose, the number in my head went up. Eventually the numbers got too high, and I couldn’t keep track. So, I found a loose stone and started making tick marks. Everytime the sun rose, another tick on the wall. But eventually, the little stone wore itself down and couldn’t make the marks anymore. For three sunrises, I had to keep track in my head once more. It become too much, so each morning when the sky became bright, I pressed my teeth into the tip of my finger.


The walls were now solid red.


I did everything I could think of to keep up. Pluck hairs and tally them. Bite fingernails and toenails for scraps.


Seven suns ago when I awoke, all my work was gone. It had either been cleaned away, or I was moved. I quickly began searching for a stone, pebble, stick, anything. I saw one. As I reached for it, an intense alarm rang out. I dropped the pebble, and it rolled through my cage doors, just out of my reach.


From that point forward, anytime that I found something to use, the alarm would sound. I resolved I would wait it out until it rang so much I couldn’t hear it anymore.


The sun came this morning. I pricked my finger and made it bleed. The alarm began. As the sun started to disappear from my window, the alarm became louder. My attempt to drown it out started all over. By next sun up, it rose again. Four sun have now come and gone.


“Make it stop.” I whimpered.


The alarm rang louder, and pitched higher.


“Make it stop.” I said, loudly.


Again the sound increased, and again the pitch increased.


“Make it stop!” I screamed.


A loud laughter pierced through the speakers, accompanying the already cacophonous sound.


“MAKE IT STOP!” I screamed as the pressure in my head began to rise, and I could feel the blood rushing to my ears.

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