Walk the Vanished Earth

by Erin Swan

I knew the voice’s owner was sad, but I was happy. This girl—whatever she was—remembered her mother. That is what a mother is, I thought. Someone who does not truly vanish after they’re gone. This girl was lucky. She knew where she had come from.

God has nothing to do with it, I wanted to tell her. We did this to ourselves.

Pa had been unrealistic in his expectations. He should have realized history couldn’t be written in the present moment. One had to see the end to recognize the beginning.

We don’t have tsunamis in America, I said, though I knew it sounded stupid. Of course we had them. By then we had everything.