Sarah ran as fast as she could. Thunder rumbled through a red-stained sky, lightning the sole source of light in this mockery of the real world.
Sarah ran, but there was no way she could be fast enough.
******
Three hours earlier, the sun was shining on another boring neighborhood garage sale. Sarah's mom, Susan, loved going to these sorts of sales, always talking about the next major find. Sarah worried that if and when her Dad died that her Mom was going to turn into a hoarder. Unfortunately for Sarah, Susan had been her ride to the mall, and spotting the sign for the sale on the side of the road, the two had taken an unscheduled detour. Sarah, now terribly bored and late to meet up with her friends, texted on her phone, trying and failing to hide her irritation.
She rolled her eyes as she saw her Mom talking with Mrs. Applebee. An elderly widow from the neighborhood, she and Susan had bonded over their shared love of these sales. And now that those two were talking, it was doubtless going to be a very long day.
Sarah began to make her way along the tables, figuring if she had time to kill, she might as well take a look at the items for sale. God, I need to get my own car, Sarah thought as she walked past tables of 8 tracks, old bell bottom jeans, and a whole heaping pile of bling. It looks like the 70's threw up on their front lawn. I mean, they can't seriously expect to sell this crap, can they? Who even owns an 8 track player anymore?
One item on the bling table did manage to catch her eye. It looked like an old oil lamp. Constructed of brass and colored glass, with highlights that appeared to be made of gold, it was a bright and colorful piece. As the light shone through it, lighting the table under it in a rainbow of color, Sarah decided she had to have it. There wasn't a price tag on it, though.
"Excuse me, sir," Sarah waved the elderly man tending the table over. "How much for this?"
"Well, the gold chains are twenty, the earrings ar-"
"No, not those," Sarah interrupted. "I meant this."
The old man seemed confused. "What?"
Sarah pointed at the lamp. "The lamp."
The old man looked where Sarah was pointing, confusion evident on his face. Finally, in irritation, he said, "Look, if you ain't gonna buy anything, get lost. I ain't got time fer games."
Sarah watched the old man leave, and looked at the lamp. Could he not see it, Sarah thought. Of course, that was preposterous. Outside of fantasy and make believe, there was nothing that was actually invisible. Right? Sarah reached down to pick up the lamp.
Her hand passed through it like it wasn't even there.
She gasped and snatched her hand back. The lamp rapidly lost its solid appearance, getting more and more blurry until it seemed more vapor then anything else. Once in its gaseous state, it leaped towards Sarah's face. She fell back with a gasp, and as she inhaled, the lamp smoke flowed into her lungs. She tried to stop it, to scream, anything, but it felt as if time itself had stopped. She was vaguely aware that she hadn't even hit the ground yet. She could see her Mom, dropping the record she'd been looking at and starting to run towards her daughter. Like everything else, she seemed frozen in mid-stride, and the colors seemed... wrong. Too bright, and too many, and too dull, and too few. Just, simply, wrong.
Sarah tried to breathe, and found she couldn't. She felt her oxygen starved mind clouding over. Am I dying...
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