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Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©s
Ramone was not supposed to go to town without his older siblings. Nonetheless, he felt he had to on this day. He had awoken without finding anyone in his home. The house was empty. The animals had disappeared. Even the dogs were not there. They typically stayed at home when everyone had to go to work.
Ramone was alone. There was no reason he knew of for this. The boy had woken up in a strange place. He was stuffed under a bed and pushed between a bed and the wall. He thought he must’ve had a dream and wandered there. Why else would he be in such a place? Ramone was never left alone and was beginning to worry something terrible had happened.
Ramone crawled out from under the bed, his heart thumping in his tiny chest. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, trying to make sense of the eerie silence around him. The morning light poured through the cracked window. Yet, the house felt different. It was empty and hollow as if no one had been there for a long time.
He ran to the kitchen. He expected to see his mother at the stove. He also thought his older sister would scold him for being late for breakfast. Instead, the table was bare. There was no food, no dishes, nothing. He called out, his voice small against the stillness.
“Mamá?”
No answer.
He hurried outside, stepping onto the dusty ground with bare feet. The corral was empty. The goats, the chickens—gone. Even the dogs that always lounged in the shade were missing—a lump formed in his throat. Something was wrong.
Ramone had often been told not to go to town alone, but fear overpowered any thoughts of disobedience. If his family wasn’t home, maybe they had gone to town for help. He had to find them.
He slipped on his too-big sandals and started down the narrow dirt path that led to town. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat pressed against his small frame. The closer he got to town, the more his stomach twisted.
Something felt –– off.
When he reached the outskirts, he stopped. The usual chatter of morning markets and passing cars was missing. The streets were strangely quiet. Shops stood open, but no one was inside. Tables were set with half-eaten meals as if people had left in the middle of breakfast.
His breath came in quick gasps. His family wasn’t there.
No one was.
Ramone was alone in an empty town.
And then, a sound broke the silence from somewhere down the street—soft, slow footsteps echoing against the abandoned buildings.
Someone was coming. The footsteps became louder. It became clear that a cart being pulled by a donkey was coming around the corner. But there wasn’t a person with it.
Ramone’s heart pounded in his chest. The cart rattled onward, its wooden wheels creaking against the empty street. The donkey plodded ahead, its ears flicking as if listening for a command that would never come.
But there was no driver.
Ramone took a step back, his tiny hands trembling. His words from the day before echoed in his mind. He yelled words after getting into trouble for mischief that had found its way into his life.
“I wish I was the only person in the world!”
Had he wished for this? Had his anger somehow made it real?
His legs felt heavy as if the ground itself wanted to pull him down. He turned in circles, hoping—praying—to see someone step out of a doorway or call his name. But no one did.
Tears welled in his eyes. He hadn’t meant it. He didn’t want to be alone.
The cart rolled past him, and the donkey’s slow, steady steps were the only sound in the world.
Ramone squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.
“Wake up, wake up!”
He whispered, pressing his fists against his temples.
“This has to be a dream.”
He forced his eyes open.
The town was still empty.
He ran, his sandals slapping against the dusty road. He ran past the silent market. He ran past the still houses. He passed the church where the bells should have been ringing. But they weren’t ringing.
And then—he saw his home.
It looked just as he had left it. The door was slightly open, swaying in the wind.
He rushed inside, desperate.
“Mamá!”
he cried.
“Papá! Anybody!”
Silence.
Ramone stumbled into his room, his breath coming in sharp gasps. The bed was there. The blankets were rumpled as if someone had pushed them aside in the middle of the night.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the mattress. He curled up, his tiny body shaking.
“I take it back,”
He whispered into the fabric.
“I don’t want to be alone. I want my mamá. My papá. My sisters. Please…”
The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, his eyelids growing heavy. The room began to spin, the world around him fading into darkness.
Then—
A voice.
Soft. Familiar.
“Ramone? Mijo, wake up.”
His eyes fluttered open.
The morning light streamed in. Ramone’s mamá stood over him, her warm hand brushing his forehead. From the kitchen, he heard his sisters laughing, the clatter of dishes, and the barking of the dogs outside.
His heart leaped.
It was just a dream.
It was a terrible, lonely dream.
Ramone threw his arms around his mamá, holding onto her tightly.
She chuckled, stroking his hair.
“What’s gotten into you, mi niño?”
Ramone didn’t answer. He just held on, knowing that, no matter what, he would never wish to be alone again.
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