The Schizophrenia
an excerpt

The air was thick that night. It was as if a heavy blanket of fog had covered London if not the entire England, almost suffocating its citizens. People did whatever they could to stay indoors. Unfortunately, the air was the same everywhere, not pure enough. Indoors, it was harsher even. It was all too thick, too heavy. The people were wheezing left and right, fanning if they could and jumping into lakes for a change of atmosphere. The waters, it seemed to be, had died as well. Murmurings surged as more people went out into the streets, looking for answers and support.

The lighting and oil lanterns seemed to be a burden and insufficient. The fog, if you would call it, was so thick that you could not see for more than twenty feet. The church bells even rang, alarming the folk. The surprised muttering turned into shouting of despair. Old men known for their intelligence and success tried to tell people that the world is coming to an end. As minutes grew into hours, the only reasonable explanation, reaching from ear to ear, was that the Second Coming had arrived. Little children cried. The unhealthy had already passed on. The air that had kept their weary souls until now had turned against them. Children of asthma gasped their last breath. Truly, the world had to be coming to an end.

The screaming wouldn’t stop; it just kept getting louder and louder until Adelle could not vie with. She felt like screaming herself. Her panting mother beside her shook her head as if to say, “Don’t.” She knew that ladies, proper ladies, must never allow sounds like that escape their mouths. But what does dignity matter when the world is coming to an end?, she thought. So, she screamed at the top of her lungs until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

She fell to her mother’s feet, praying for one last breath.