Shaking (working title)

When the rumbling finally stopped, Brighton was able to get up from his protective cocoon. The remaining townspeople had warned him weeks ago that this was no place to live, but he stubbornly stayed thinking that he could with a few shakes every now and then. They all shook their heads and left him in the settled dust and dirt. But a small girl ran back from her family and gave him a hug around his legs. Slightly shocked, he bent down to pick her up to return the favor.

"Mommy says that you are a fool. Mommy says I'm a fool too. We fools should stick together." She gave him another hug; Brighton was taken aback by the purity of the little girl.

"No sweetie, I'm afraid you have to go with your parents. I'll be alright. You don't want to see your mommy cry now do you?" Brighton brushed a few strands of strawberry blond hair out of her face, uncovering big blue eyes. The little girl shook her head, as she held her hand-made doll closer to her chin. "Then go. I'll miss you." Brighton set her on the ground and gave a soft push back to her family. She turned back to him and held out her doll with a wide smile upon her face.

"Take her. Her name is Cindy. My mommy made her for me."

"I can't take her. If your mommy made her for you, she belongs to you."

"Take her. I'll be alright. I have mommy."

"Alright, but what is your name?"

"Savannah."

"Then I'll call her Savannah. That way you can be with me wherever I go." Savannah's face turned and she gave him one more giant hug before she ran back to her family. As she ran, she waved goodbye. Brighton straightened up and waved back, as he held little Savannah in his right hand. He turned back to his home to rebuild what was destroyed.

Brighton holds "Little Savannah" to his chest, recalling which seems like months, but was only a few days. The earthquakes are more frequent than before. Everything around him has turned to rubble, and by some miracle he was able to find a place to live between two fallen walls haphazardly forming a lean-to. Covered in wood dust and dirt, his brown hair closely resembling a tousled bird's nest at best, his eyes once a calm grey, is stormy blue with anger and frustration. His facial hair has grown in giving him a scraggly appearance, clothes disheveled in disarray; jeans with holes torn up by the quakes, worn-out leather boots and jacket covered in dirt, and a ratty black T-shirt with his favorite band, Van Halen.

The ground starts shaking again, as Brighton scrambles to gather his meager belongings. He sinks back further into his shelter as the dust begins to fall. This was a longer quake than before, almost a full minute. Closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his legs, he sits and waits it out. It isn't the shaking that is the problem, it's the aftermath. A loud stomp shudders the ground in evidence that something has fallen nearby. Brighton hugs his legs tighter, hands white by the force of his grip. After a few minutes everything is done. He looks up from his legs and relaxes only realizing that he has been crying. He sniffs back his tears and wipes his eyes with the back of his sleeve.

"That's it!" He proclaims jumping to his feet. "I'm out of here. I'm sick of this!" He grabs his bag and stuffs whatever he has left into it: beef jerky, his empty water bottle, the thin blanket he found, and "little Savannah." He looks around and realizes he has no idea which way to go. Seeing the sun right above him, Brighton decides that it is noontime. Thinking to put the sun behind he, that would make his direction east, he begins tromping off.

Hours pass by and a few more shakes threaten Brighton. Luckily, he was able to walk past the town into the dry desert-like land where nothing could fall on him. The earth here had a soft red tone to it as it collected onto his boots and clothes. Brighton walked with his head down, every now and then stopping to shove clothing into his bag. He found an on cropping of red rocks to sit and rest, only to get back up and run because the quakes started again.

At long last he hit it, literally. Brighton is knocked off his feet and massages his head. Looking around to see what he ran into, he sees nothing. He grabs his things again and gets up only to be knocked down again. 'What is this?' he thinks to himself. Gingerly he feels around above his head and his hand stops. Curious he takes both hands and feels the area, it's almost like a rounded wall. Slowly he gets up, with his hands bracing nothingness, feeling his way around this invisible wall. With one hand on the wall, Brighton walks, but it seems to continue on forever.

Then the shaking starts again. Brighton quickly drops to his feet and curls into a fetal position as to not get a concussion from being battered by an invisible wall. He is actually lifted off from the ground and bounces a few times, groaning in pain. Then it is over. Red-faced and sweating from the beating he just received Brighton looks around and then he hears the laughter. Squinting he finds the wall again and presses his ear against it and Brighton definitely hears laughter. 'What is going on here?'

"I told you he's fun to play with Savannah. Just wait when I turn the snow globe upside down. He'll be scared for real."

"Cindy! I'll tell mommy! Just leave him alone. Come on, let's go play something else."

"Oh alright, Savannah. Can we play tea party?"

"Ok let's go!" Savannah places the snow globe back onto the mantle and the two girls skip out of the room.