The Cycle of Yesterdays

By Ashley Goodnow

Something screamed into the darkness. His hand thumped around the nightstand until the alarm clock stopped blaring. Nobody had tried to wake him.

Offensive sunlight streamed from the window on an offensive new day.

New day, whatever.

He dragged himself out of bed and into some clothes for school. At the mirror, he didn’t see a new day. He didn’t even see himself. At least not the him he was yesterday.

He didn’t want to think about yesterday.

In the kitchen, he hunched over the countertop and ate cereal. He hated cereal. That’s all there was for breakfast though. No one had been to the store since yesterday. So he ate his cereal in silence and the rest of the household shuffled around him like shadows of people.

He made it to the bus. Everybody talked at once. He couldn’t make any sense out of what the other kids said. Except that they were happy with their happy lives.

They smiled. They laughed. They jabbed jokes at each other because tomorrow wouldn’t come. Yet certainly, everybody had something wrong with them. If so, how did they fake it?

He walked down halls. He sat in classes. He took notes.

At lunch, he sat with his friends. Jonny talked about baseball. Then Toby said he wanted to play football but his mom wouldn’t let him. Luke said that football was better than baseball, and so he and Jonny fought. They always fought.

They never talked about yesterday though. Did they know about yesterday? He hadn’t told them yet so maybe not. Instead he heard Jonny and Luke fight.

He made it home on the bus full of fake happy people.

The house had never been so quiet. The perfect time to study. He made it up the stairs.

He found himself at her room. His hand hesitated over the doorknob, just enough for his fingertips to smear the dust. He knew what he would find there. Paper flowers and a princess tea set. Pink snowflakes on the wall and streamers on the ceiling fan. All covered in dust, like the doorknob.

A mangled bicycle dropped in the middle of it all.

He closed his eyes and the bicycle disappeared. He’d like to pretend that yesterday didn’t happen. He’d like to think he could hear singing from inside. Still, he knew what he wouldn’t find.

He shut the door on his own room. He opened a textbook. Nobody would bother him now.

He made it through the day. In bed, he tried to think of before yesterday, but he could only dream of it.

Something screamed into the darkness. His hand thumped around the nightstand until the alarm clock stopped blaring. Nobody had tried to wake him.

Offensive light streamed from the window on an offensive new day.

There were no new days.

There was only yesterday.


Ashley Goodnow has loved stories all her life. When she isn’t writing or reading, she practices guitar or teaches clogging (a percussive dance). She likes long car rides, windy, overcast days, and fairytale retellings. You can also find her at http://ashleyg-inserttitlehere.blogspot.com/

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2 thoughts on “The Cycle of Yesterdays

  1. Oh my goodness this was so beautiful and sad and it made me want to cry a little and just askjf;alskdf;sf. *nods* Excuse me while I go sob somewhere in private.

    Also, I am a huge fan of windy, overcast days as well, and I think we should get more of those. Also rainy days. *nods*

    Like

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