Lights Out

Flash Fiction | Est. Read Time: 2 minutes

“Did everyone finish their juice?”

Ms. Matlock corralled Zach, Joaquin, and Zaira to the dimly lit corner of the classroom. Each flicker of the fluorescent bulb overhead created a momentary but complete darkness shrouding the frigid space. She opened her tattered copy of Goodnight Moon, rife with scribbles from edits she had written herself, and began to read the parody aloud. Her voice quivered with each syllable.

“On the great green earth

There was heat and warmth

And a big bright ball called ‘the sun.’

And a picture of-

Animals having fun.

And there were three little boys playing with toys.

And tall trees

And buzzing bees

And yummy plants

And hungry ants

And a loud flowing river

And a wet swimmer with a shiver.

Goodnight earth

Goodnight sun

Goodnight animals having fun.

Goodnight boys

Goodnight toys

Goodnight trees

Goodnight bees

Goodnight plants

Goodnight ants

Goodnight river

And goodnight to the swimmer with a shiver.

Goodnight stars

Goodnight sun

Goodnight everywhere and everyone.”

Joaquin’s head was the last to hit the floor.

Matlock gingerly treaded over the lifeless bodies of Zaira and Zach and toward the nearest window. Foam frothed from the corners of their mouths with exhausted boxes of cyanide-laced apple juice in hand. She looked out, and the sunless, pitch-black expanse looked back.

It was the third day of Endless Night, and Ms. Matlock still felt compelled to go to that window, hoping to see the sun’s rays.

Yet she saw only what she felt inside: nothing.