(A/N: No inspiration for it... Just had nothing to do in class... this is the first bit of prose I have written in a good while... hope I haven't gone rusty!)

I feel the short tremble of the ground beneath me. Soon, there will be no more stilled silence, but rumbling, rumbling earth. No one knows what is coming; only that we are not likely to survive, at least not all of us, and the surrounding buildings will likely crush us. We are all fearful that we will suffer, instead of a quick and painless death, but the adults don’t show it. Some of the teenagers attempt to keep the children calm, and some of the other teenagers are busy saying their final farewells to their friends and lovers. Only some of us will see each other again, and no one even knows where that might be.

The ground shivers again as I stand. I’m searching for Gracie, my baby sister. I do not see her anywhere, yet I am sure she’s there, terrified, not knowing what to do. She is but five years old, and has no idea of what might happen. I can feel the tears of fear burning in my eyes and I don’t allow them to run. I am not weak. I will not cry; I will save my sister’s life, even if I have to lose mine.

I hear screams and wails as the first building begins to tumble. First the supports begin to split, and then the windows start to shatter into millions and billions of pieces. Rubble will soon begin to fall, and people will get injured. This I know because it is the inevitable; it will happen, no matter how much protection is applied. Through the subtle din of the city, I continue to look for Gracie, unfailing love for my sister pushing through my mortification. I feel deaf to the noise; my only worry is Gracie.

I remembered just yesterday when we were in the store and Gracie had asked me for a small, blond-haired porcelain doll that was on sale for only five dollars. Gracie wanted that doll with a passion, yet when she asked me for it, I cruelly refused, thinking nothing of it at the time. I didn’t think that that doll could’ve been the last toy my baby sister would ever have played with or held, or acted like she was its mommy. I simply said no to her, and she began to throw a tantrum in the middle of the store. I scolded her and she refused to talk to me for the rest of the night. And then the storm hit, and the warnings came for the earthquake, but Gracie wasn’t in the home. No, she had run from me in the night.

I must find her, tell her I love her, tell her I’m sorry. I must find her. I must, I must, I must. If I don’t find her, I don’t see a point in continuing to live, for I will forever feel guilt. I continue looking for that chestnut brown hair, those latte colored eyes, the thin shoulders of my sister. I must find her before it really hits, before all is lost for forever.

I hear, silently, “Tristy… Tristy, where are you? I’m scared Tristy!” Tristy was my nickname, and only Gracie called me Tristy, for she could not yet pronounce Tristiana, my given name. I heard her, she was in this area, I was going to find her. I called out to her, “Gracie! Gracie its Tristy! I’m here!”

“Tristy? Help me Tristy!” Her voice was whimpering, and I could tell she had been crying. I begin to run through the crowd of people towards her voice, my silvery-blond hair flying behind me. I continue to hear her crying and calling my name (“Tristy! Tristy!”) as I run for her. I don’t see her anywhere. Nothing.

And then I passed the giant piece of rubble from the first building to fall. I saw the brown hair, the thin arms. My eyes burn with tears again. ‘No, it can’t be… I just heard her, I just heard Gracie. She’s not…’

“Tristy…” the voice came from under the rubble. I walked around it, looking for Gracie’s head, wherever it was. When I saw it finally, I gasped. Both her eyes were open and surrounded in blood, her face was mutilated with scratches and bruises. Those latte eyes looked up at me, pleading for me to help her. “Tristy, it hurts, Tristy. I can’t move, Tristy. Tristy, what’s wrong? Tristy, why are you crying, Tristy?”

I hadn’t noticed, but my tears had begun to flow freely. “Gracie… I’m sorry, Gracie… I’ll get you out. You’ll be fine, sweetie.”

I put my arms around the rubble and try to lift it; it won’t budge. I try again, with the same result; and again, and again, until Gracie tells me to stop because it hurts too much. I fall to the ground in defeat and hold her hand in mine; I continue to cry and my tears fall onto her wrists. The ground continues to rumble beneath our bodies.

“Tristy… why can’t I feel anymore?” came Gracie’s feeble voice.

“I’m sorry, Gracie. I love you; you’re my sister. I’m so sorry for anything I’ve ever done.”

“What’s happening, Tristy? I can’t see you anymore… Hold my hand, Tristy.” I was still holding her hand.

“I am, Gracie. My hand’s right here.”

“No it’s not. Hold my hand Tristy!”

“I am holding your hand!”

“NO YOUR NOT! HOLD MY HAND, TRISTY!”

“Gracie… I’m holding your hand. I am, I am… I promise.” I’m sobbing now, not believing what my sister was going through.

I just want it to be over now, all of it. Life, the earthquake, my sister’s confusion. Just end it.

The ground begins to tremble harder now, harder than any of our earthquakes before. The building closest to us looses it’s supports, and the top begins to fall. I can’t even scream before it lands on top of my sister and I, before it is all over. The only thought that ran through my mind was simple:

“Thank you.”