Lost in Refuge - Part 3

Same thing. Every. Single. Day. Nothing but the same, boring old days. I never thought of it like that, but since I’ve been to the Out There and then had that talk with Ria I’ve thought differently.

That’s my train of thought as I walk slowly home, deep in thought. I realized that almost my whole life, things had been the same. An endless cycle. In which everyone I knew—and more—was trapped.

Every morning I wake up at eight-thirty to nine AM, had breakfast, then went to work at ten AM. At noon we took a lunch break, then resumed work till four-thirty PM. Then I’d go home. I’d have dinner at seven PM and then go to bed at nine PM. Of course, some parts of life do differ. I mean, my cat doesn’t knock down a vase every day. I don’t have the same meals every day. I don’t catch the same cab on the way to work and from work.

An example of something that also doesn’t happen every day—yesterday I dropped all my papers on the floor at work. Half the papers blew out the open window. Those were important papers, too. Not even all of them were mine! I was supposed to be very careful with those business papers! And I lost half of them! You know what? I’d rather not think of that right now. But anyway, back to my point. Things are always the same. Day after Day, week after week, and so on. MY WHOLE STINKIN’ LIFE.

I could go on. I don’t really want to. No one likes to think of the mistakes they’ve made. I’m certainly no exception. I sigh tragically.

The tall, soaring buildings on either side of me seem dull and lifeless—now that I’ve gotten a taste of real life, anyway. Trees and grass and… what did Ria call it? A sqwuil? Something like that.

Ria said there are other things—animals—in the Out There. What are they? What do they look like? If we do get out tomorrow night, would we really never return? I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet. Are any of us ready?

Argh, so many questions! And no one can answer them! And even if they do, how can I believe them?

But do I really want to leave the city? My whole life I’ve been taught to never go into the Out There. I’ll die within moments. I never thought to ask why or how. All I knew was I would die, and it would be painful and horrible.

But then… now I’ve actually been there. And I DIDN’T die. It was as if a whole new world had been opened up in front of me.

A new conflict has been opened up inside me. Fatal, or livable? Death, or life? What is the Out There? So far no one has seemed to be able to tell me what it is. Truthfully, anyway. First—everyone told me it was Death. Second—Ria tells me it’s Life. Who to believe?

I need to escape. Escape life. Escape the confused tangle of thoughts that my mind is in right now.

Am I really living in an endless cycle that’s the same every single day? Or is this just how life should be? Can it even be called life? I shake my head in despair and shove my hands into my pockets.

“Hey! Myra!”

I turn. It sounds like one of my friends, Ramona. She is jogging down the sidewalk.

“Oi!” she shouts, waving at me. I stop and wait for her to catch up.

“Yeah? What’s up?” I ask, my mind not really in the same place my body is.

“I just passed the Sanders’. Ria told me she’s having dinner tomorrow night and we’re all invited,” said Ramona.

“Ah. That’s nice.” I nod.

Ramona nodded too.

“Oh! Wait.” I paused. “I already knew that. Oops. Sorry, Ramona. I guess my mind isn’t in the right place today.”

“Huh. Okaaay. Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Ramona jogged off.

I envy her. Of our tight group of friends, Ramona is probably the fittest. Ria is probably the second most fit. The jog/run I did earlier from my home to the Sanders’ most likely wouldn’t have done a thing to her. I’m going to feel it in my legs tomorrow. I huff, then grin to myself, shaking my head. What does it matter, anyway?

Two hours later I’m still pacing my living room floor. I swear, I’m going to wear a rut in this home. I can’t keep pacing like this.

I throw myself onto my couch and pick up a book.

My cat, Patches, curls up on my lap. I look at the book I grabbed. It’s titled, “The Story of the Deliverance”. No. I’ve read that one too many times. Besides, I don’t think it’s true. It’s about how the Elders “saved” us. But if Ria is right… then this book is wrong. Once again my mind circles back to tomorrow night. Even if I don't go to the Out There, I've finally broken out of the rut I've been trapped in since birth.

I push Patches off my lap and stand.

I find a book that has been passed down from my grandmother’s grandmother, my great-great-grandmother. Then it went to my great-grandmother, then to my grandmother, etc. Till it landed in my hands.

I’ve never read it. But since I seem to be trying new things now I might as well.

It’s a dusty old journal, the pages are yellowing and I’m not sure it will hold under my fingers. Who knows how old this thing is? It might crumble to nothing under my fingers.

I open it gingerly.

The writing is hard to read.

I squint at the words. They are written in ink, swooping, swirling cursive: This is a true story that few know. Someday maybe this will fall into the right hands, and they will fix this mess. Listen carefully…

I flip the page. The next one is blank, besides a few water stains.

Puzzled, I flip to the next. These words are easy to read now. There are five. My eyes open wide as I read them: The Beginning of the End.