The Dust Becomes Us

One day I was reading a book called What If. Chapter 7 finished, "It is typical to see a human or animal as you observe the world. These organisms are lively and operate in their environments every day. In contrast, anything such as dust, a crumb, or a piece of trash is inanimate and deemed useless. It bothers our world and must be cleaned away. The bigger question I ask you is, what if one of these inanimate objects acted like a human? What would you do?"

"Beep, beep!" my watch rang, reminding me to take my daily walk.

I closed the book and darted out of the door to begin my walk. On the way, I thought about what I would do if the inanimate objects came to life. My first thought would be to run away or pull out my phone to film it. After contemplating, I approached the end of Blair Avenue to complete my daily mile walk. I crossed over a bridge where a water stream flowed underneath. I hummed an improvised tune while exiting the bridge at a fast speed. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a dusty-like wind touch down near a crowd of birds, mocking their body structure. I came to a brief halt, looking directly at the crowd of birds. I didn't see a particle of air this time. At this moment, I figured I needed to rest. I started to briskly walk the rest of the street to Stan's Pizza for a hot slice of Hawaiian pizza. The front of the establishment swarmed with families and exhausted individuals buying pizza for dinner. Eventually, I walked inside and got into the line. I ordered my slice of pizza and sat facing the door when a figure placed its delicate hand on my back, prompting me to flinch and turn around. The figure was none other than my niece, Lashel. We hugged each other and sat at the table.

“Hey uncle, Kel! Im glad to see you! She expressed.

I explained, “Im doing okay! I’ve been planning for the cookout!”

She placed her hand on her hip, “Oh, yeah, right, the cookout, I almost forgot! How’s it coming along?

“It's going just fine, all I need is the meat for the grill!”

Pizza for Lashel, pizza for Lashel!" The pizza employee repeated in a loud tone.

Lashell raised from the table, “Okay, Uncle Kel, I have to go. I’ll see you on Saturday at the cookout.”

After Lashell left the restaurant with her pizza, a series of customers came in and out the door. A pizza employee emerged from the back with a duster and began to dust around the edges of the floor. Suddenly, I turned back to the door to see a little boy, his father, and his mother enter the restaurant and stand in the long line. The energetic boy released his mother's hand and began to chase behind the employee as he dusted the floor. He strangely giggled, pointed to the debris, and high-fived the air as if he were playing with a kid his size. No matter how hard I looked on the floor, I could not understand the boy's infatuation with nothingness. Eventually, the boy chased the invisible object near the bathrooms, where his Dad came and swooped him up.

His Dad uttered, "Come here!"

"No! Aha, aha, I want to play with him!" the boy cried out while coughing.

His father exclaimed, "You aren't playing with anyone you little rascal. We need to get you something to eat!"

The boy’s father smiled at him, picked him up, and patted his back as they returned to the line. After eating the pizza, I walked out the door and traveled up the street to the last few blocks near my house, thinking I was tired and hallucinating. I opened the front door and locked eyes with the wall clock as the hands turned to 7:00 PM. I plopped on the couch and turned the Roku TV to a random program. After a few minutes of inconsistent watching, I drifted off to sleep on the couch with the remote in my hand. The next day, I woke up with slobber around my mouth. The weather app forecasted it to be windy, so I got ready for the day, put on my coat, and snatched the grocery list from the fridge to go grocery shopping.  

When I entered the store, a man coughed suddenly, "Aha humun!"

Five more people coughed, "Aaahhhhh."

I pushed my cart away from the group, rushing into the meat department. I looked across the meat storage bin and waved for Chuck, a country male butcher. He emerged through the doors with a friendly smile. 

He greeted, “Hey there, how can I help ya!”

I explained in a shaky voice, “Uh, hi, I would like six cuts of ribs and beef!” 

“Okay, I gotcha pal!” the butcher assured.

I waited by the poultry as the butcher fulfilled my order. I looked around the grocery store to see the people had stopped coughing and returned to shopping. The butcher soon approached with a wrapped package of meat and ribs. He waved me goodbye and returned to slicing his meat. Around noon, I arrived back at home. I popped the trunk and rushed the meat into the house to put in the freezer. I shut the freezer door and stood in the middle of the kitchen, thinking about the details of the cookout. I remembered that I didn’t load the chairs from the basement to my truck to transport them to the cookout grounds. I walked down the creaky staircase, holding onto the railing as I entered the basement. When I reached the base of the stairs, I turned on the light. A yellowish glare beamed onto the scattered objects. I rummaged through old boxes and furniture until finally reaching the stacked chairs in the corner. I loaded the chairs through the basement door when my nose began to clog suddenly. I hunched over as a harsh cough pounded against my throat. I quickly cupped my mouth, unsuccessfully blocking the particle-like saliva from spewing onto the carpet as I ran into the house for a glass of water. After much rest and recovery, around 7:00 PM, I notified my family that the cookout would be held at the park at the picnic tables. I knew I couldn’t attempt to clean the chairs after what I experienced earlier. After confirming the change of venue, I walked to my closet and picked a casual outfit for the event. I turned off the lights and hopped in the bed for a good night's rest. Eventually, a glare of sunshine pierced through the bedroom curtains, and the alarm rang off the dresser. I rose from the dent in the bed and got ready for the cookout. I completed the last-minute details, before locking up my house and hopping in the truck to drive to Crestwood Park. As I approached the adjoining street close to the park, a long line of cars hauled into the parking lot. My family and some strangers from the streets piled into a boisterous group. The boom box was jumping with old classics and new tunes for all age groups. I greeted as many people as possible before I flamed up the grill and began to cook the meat I purchased from the store. In the middle of transferring the patties to the paper plates, my cousin, Renee approached the grill with a puffer coat and some tight jeans.

Renee spoke in a high-pitched voice, “Hey cuz! I see you burning today!”

“You know ya cuz kel keeps his folks at the cookout full. No one will be starving round here!” 

I left the grill and approached Renne for a hug. She backed from the body and looked me in the eyes. 

She started, “You know, I haven't been feeling well. She pulled out a box of Claritin tablets and popped one in her mouth. 

I expressed, “Im sorry to hear that. I almost fell my butt out trying to get those chairs out from the basement. Something entered my system and I was throwing up and coughing like no what.”

Renee kept me company at the grill until it was time for the family to gather at the tables. I went to the beverage station and filled a red Solo cup with fresh Southern lemonade to cool off. By the time everyone made it to the tables, I stood at the front of the covered shelter facing everyone. I noticed the crowd, usually lively and boisterous slowly dwindle to silence. I grabbed the microphone from the table and addressed the crowd.

“Is everyone having a good time!” I stomped in excitement.

The crowd dazed into space, falling over on the table tops covered with food and beverages.

“Hey! What's going on? I know everyone ain't drunk!”

A wind blew into the shelter from the woods, emitting dusty air into the noses of the people. They jumped from the tables with a cough and ran down the hilly park, jumping into their vehicles and speeding off. As I followed behind, I tripped and fell face to face with a dusty clone of myself, boasting a big eerie smile. I clenched my toes and scooted across the ground to escape. The ominous face smiled and blew air from its mouth, propelling a dusty particle into my airways and weakening my legs. Eventually, I reached the edge of the shelter and rolled down the hill to the parking lot. A family member loaded me into their van and sped off. Suddenly, I woke up to an aggravating beam of white light in a cold lonely room. I looked down to see a large tube snake from my throat into a machine. 

“Wha es owing on!” I questioned through the tube while flailing my arms.

No one answered. I flopped my head to the right of the bed and saw a chart labeled with the words, “Patient Kel Reynolds-obstructed airways. The patient is a victim of the dust event.”

I shook in the bed, conceptualizing the fact that I was in the hospital. I looked around the room before spotting a TV in the corner of the room. The news was on and a headline motioned across the screen titled, “Human Dust Strikes Crestwood!”  

As I took the remote and turned the TV volume up, a reporter spoke, “This is Reporter Sarah Micheals, and Im in Crestwood. A devastating cloud of dust has taken over Crestwood after an experiment performed by scientists at Crestwood Center of Science and Life. The experiment contained a chemical that morphed dust particles into functioning humans. One of the experimental human dust forms escaped the laboratory and began to act maliciously amongst humanity. It has formed strange motions, made clones of citizens, and caused extensive damage to the airways of humans. Over 5,000 people are currently hospitalized in local hospitals and are in critical condition. We’ll be back with more coverage of the unprecedented event.”

Tears flowed from my eyes as I stiffened in the hospital bed. I gasped at the fact that dust, an inanimate object came true just like the "What If" book mentioned. The curtains crinkled as my family and a team of doctors entered the room and scattered around the bed. I was bedridden and placed on some pulmonary medicine and hot fluids for the next few weeks until I recovered. Eventually, the center of science and life neutralized the dust human clones and everyone went on to expect the impossible.