fiction piece: blame the sun
a short story about relationships, familiarity, and the end of the world
hi all!
today i’m sharing a new short story i wrote last month called blame the sun. this short story is about a butch/femme lesbian couple, emery & raphaela, as they navigate a strange type of apocalypse. i wrote this story for a journal looking for pieces on long-term relationships with speculative elements, and with a word count of no more than 3,500. unfortunately, this story was rejected from the journal, but that just means i get to share it here with you all!
i hope you enjoy blame the sun.
The day before the world ended, Emery plucked up her courage, went out, and bought the ring.
She’d been eyeing it for months—sitting on the right side of the display in the jeweler’s, squished between the laundromat and the dingy café. It was only a simple gold band, but that was perfect. Raphaela didn’t like anything flashy. Emery bought the ring, bought the box, and went home to begin planning the proposal.
Seventeen hours later, the world as they knew it came to an end.
The apocalypse was a bit boring, if Emery was being honest. Wasn’t zombies, or a meteor strike, or even an AI takeover. Just that one day, amid climate change and corrupt politicians and threat of nuclear war, the sun sent out a solar flare that shut down every single piece of technology they had. Phones, televisions, computers, radios—all went dead.
People scrambled—they rushed to withdraw cash (credit cards made meaningless), they ransacked stores for water and canned food (there had been a global water crisis for about three years—now it peaked), and they began to realize no one was really in charge anymore. Law enforcement had been completely dependent on now-defunct tech, and were left floundering, trying in vain to stop the sudden increase in theft without any of the tools they’d relied on. The government had gone dark, aides scrambling to find a way for the president to address the people now that television and radio were no more. The technology that encompassed life had become a single point of failure. The sun clicked it off, and left chaos in its wake.
Three weeks in, Emery saw a newspaper for the first time since she was a kid. Nothing from D.C. yet, just scientists and local government officials asking people to stay calm and confirming that yes, this was permanent, that there was no easy fix to the problem.
She and Raphaela stayed put in their apartment, apart from a handful of trips to secure some necessities. The past seven weeks, they’d only had each other, Raphaela’s stack of romance books, and two old board games for entertainment. They couldn’t go anywhere else; their car, like most others, was electric, and died instantly. They couldn’t reach out to family or friends. They had no idea how bad it was out there. They just had each other.
On the fifty-third day, Emery was sitting in the living room, reading her second-favorite of Raphaela’s terrible books. This one had a cowboy roaming the world, looking for love and purpose, only to realize his true love was his small-town high school sweetheart.
Emery didn’t hate it. She liked imagining herself as the cowboy, though.
Raphaela was in the kitchen, counting their cans. Emery could barely remember the last time she’d had a meal that wasn’t canned.
“Babe, come here,” Raphaela called. Emery closed the book and walked over.
“What’s up?”
“We’ve got about two weeks left of cans,” Raphaela started. Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her glasses were smudged. She had that little scrunch between her eyebrows that appeared whenever she was frustrated by something, and trying to solve the problem herself. Emery had been admiring that little scrunch for nearly ten years now.
“Okay,” Emery said slowly.
“And look at this,” Raphaela said. She reached across the counter and grabbed the calendar. “Look. It’s already mid-September. In two weeks it’ll be October.”
“Yeah,” Emery said. “And in two weeks we can go out and find more cans. Maybe they’ll have Halloween candy, too.” A joke. The grocery stores were empty, frozen in time.
“No, Em, think about it,” Raphaela said. “We didn’t have air conditioning after, but that was fine, we’re up north. It was hot, but we survived. But, if we didn’t have air conditioning, we’re not going to have heat, either, and that, we won’t survive.”
Emery frowned. “There must be some way to insulate the apartment.”
“And do you know how to do that without looking it up?” Raphaela asked. “Look, we’ve got two weeks of cans left. We should spend the next two weeks preparing to leave.”
“And go where?” Emery asked. “Raph, it’s the end of the world. People have lost their minds out there.”
“Not everyone,” Raphaela said. “I can’t believe that everyone is capable of such things.”
That was the end of the conversation. Emery knew she was right, at least in some aspects. They were going to have to find more food soon, anyway. Emery had been planning on going a town or two over. Raphaela planned on going a few states down.
That night, they lay in bed, the dim moonlight falling over them in slats. Raphaela ran her fingers through Emery’s curls.
“If you really don’t want to go—” she started.
“We’re going,” Emery said. “You’re right. There’s no food here. Neither of us knows how to hunt or anything. It’s not like we’d survive the winter by making animal pelts.”
“Your mom still lives down in South Carolina, right?” Raphaela asked.
“Mm. Last I heard, anyway.” Emery shifted. “You think the end of the world will help her come around on me being a lesbian? She really freaked out the first time I cut my hair and wore a men’s button-down.”
“Anything’s possible,” Raphaela said. “But if you have the address, maybe we could try? It’d be a place to stay.”
“She probably wouldn’t let us die,” Emery agreed.
The next two weeks passed too quickly for Emery’s liking. They found their old hiking backpacks from when they were young, energetic college students, and packed only the absolute necessities. Neither said it, but the thought was hovering in the air; after they left this apartment, they probably weren’t coming back. So they sifted through every belonging they had, picking out the most important.
Emery kept the ring in her coat pocket.
The night before they left, Raphaela cut their hair. “So we don’t look crazy,” she explained, scissors in her hand.
“Of course,” Emery said, “the inherent insanity of split ends.”
Raphaela sat Emery down in front of their bathroom mirror, and went to work, carefully cutting her hair to the perfect length—a hint of brown curls up top, but short everywhere else. Vaguely masculine. Very butch. Exactly what Emery needed.
Raphaela then cut her own hair, only a few inches, so her black waves rested above her elbows. She took one look in the mirror, nodded, and then hurried them both off to bed. They’d be leaving at dawn.
Emery barely slept. She kept her face pressed up against the crook of Raphaela’s neck, listening to her gentle snores. She let their breathing sync up, and waited for the sun.
When the morning arrived, neither said a word. They packed quickly. Emery munched on a stale granola bar, and slung her heavy backpack over her shoulder. Her knees ached, and she missed the days when the heaviest backpack she carried was one of her students’.
“Ready?” Raphaela asked. She stood by the front door, the sunlight framing her from behind.
“No,” Emery said, and took her hand. Raphaela squeezed it. “But it’s time to go.”
They made it all the way to the interstate highway by noon. It was a strange sight, the highway quiet and empty. Stranger still, to hop the barrier and just walk down the middle. Emery kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see a barrage of traffic coming to run them down. They walked for two more hours before the sun beating down on their necks became unbearable, and took a break in the shade of the trees next to the road. Emery drank her water carefully—not too little, but not too much. They only had a few bottles each. It needed to last them until they could find a place to replenish their supplies.
Raphaela nudged Emery’s thigh with the tip of her sneaker. “Hungry?” she asked.
Emery shook her head. “No, I’ll wait.”
Raphaela frowned. She pulled out a granola bar. “I’m eating half of this,” she said, breaking it in half, “and you can have the rest.” She put the other half in Emery’s hand.
“Raph—”
“No, you’re not—you’re not starving yourself, okay? Don’t pull a whole, I won’t eat so she can have more, just in case it all goes to shit, or whatever. If it goes to shit, we’re dealing with it together. I’m not—” Raphaela cut herself off, and leaned back against the tree, arms crossed. “Just don’t.”
Emery ate her half of the granola bar. She reached in her coat pocket. The ring was still there.
Once the sun drifted behind some clouds, they continued walking, down the vacant highway until the sky began to darken. They began to search for a place to spend the night. The first convenience store they found was empty with blood splatters on the floor, and it was a mutual, unspoken decision to keep moving and find somewhere else.
It was another hour before they found anything resembling shelter—a tiny little building full of useless electrical boxes and meters Emery didn’t understand. Abandoned now, which was all that mattered. She and Raphaela curled up together in the corner, huddled together under a blanket. Raphaela leaned her head against Emery’s.
“I think people got worse than I realized,” she whispered.
“Some of them were like that already,” Emery said. “This just gave them an excuse.”
Raphaela hummed. “Do you think we’ll make it?”
“Down south? Of course, babe.”
“In general,” Raphaela said. “How much longer will this last?”
“Forever, maybe,” Emery said. “I wouldn’t mind if we had to rebuild it all. Things weren’t so good before, anyway.”
“No,” Raphaela said. “I guess not. I just miss how easy everything was before. This just… sucks.”
“Mm. Blame the sun,” Emery said. “Stupid star. Really screwed us all over.”
“Too bad we need it to live,” Raphaela sighed. Emery laughed, softly, and let a quiet fill the room.
They slept fitfully. In the morning, a thunderstorm rolled in, and didn’t let up until noon. They left as soon as they could, but Emery felt an unease beginning to grow.
“I don’t think we’re moving fast enough,” she said quietly, as the afternoon dwindled away, and they’d only walked a few more miles.
“Well, unfortunately we chose electric cars over solar-powered ones,” Raphaela muttered. “Or—we didn’t choose. The rich people in tech did, I guess.”
“Don’t suppose anyone’s still got a gas car,” Emery said.
“Where would they even get gas if they did?” Raphaela asked. “I haven’t ridden in a gas-powered vehicle in twenty years. More. I was a kid, in my grandpa’s old pickup truck. We sold it to a scrap company when he passed away.”
“Mm. We should’ve stuck with that bicycling class from five years ago. Then we’d be racing down these streets.”
Raphaela laughed. “We were so bad at that. For once, we might’ve been in the right to quit. It was best for everyone.”
Emery scoffed, smiling. “Excuse me, but I was quite good at bicycling. If I remember correctly, I got a good fifteen feet further than you before I went down.”
“Ah, those fifteen feet.” Raphaela grinned. “Would’ve been a lifesaver.”
Emery rolled her eyes, but she was laughing too.
It was sunset again when they heard the truck. They’d found an old car charging station to hole up in. There was no convenience store this time, just a small building with a register to pay or buy lottery tickets. Raphaela snatched a few scratch-offs, and she and Emery sat on the floor, legs entangled, using spare change to see what prizes they won.
“Oh, wait, I’m close,” Raphaela said. “I just need another seven, and—nope. Nothing.”
“I just won a hundred bucks,” Emery said, and then snickered when Raphaela grabbed the scratch-off to see for herself.
“You’re such a jerk.”
“Mm. I did actually win fifty on that one over there, though. Wish I could cash it in.”
“What would you get?” Raphaela asked.
Emery thought about it. “Some books for my classroom, probably. Maybe some nice new markers for the kids, too.”
“Do you miss them?” Raphaela asked. Emery smiled, bittersweet, feeling the tumultuous pull of emotions that accompanied the thought of her students now. She had been in the midst of preparing for a new school year when everything ended. She hadn’t heard from a single one of her student’s families, or her coworkers, since then. She remembered the smiles from the last day of school, the second-graders sharing their summer plans, talking about how excited they were. Emery wondered where they were now. She could only hope they were all safe.
“Sometimes,” she said.
“I wish I’d gotten to meet some of them,” Raphaela said.
“You’re no good with kids,” Emery reminded her. Raphaela smiled, but it was strained.
“Oh, I know. It’s a mutual feeling, though.”
It had been one of the first conversations they’d had after their relationship turned serious, nearly ten years ago. Emery always imagined a life with children—she loved working with them, spending time with them, teaching them. Raphaela didn’t. She never had a younger sibling or cousin growing up. She never even babysat in high school. She would have no idea what to do if someone handed her a baby.
That was almost the end of the relationship, killed dead in its first few months. But it was only college, and Emery decided she was willing to stick it out. After all, she was still on the education track. She was going to be a teacher. It wasn’t as if her life would be childless forever.
Raphaela still went a little quiet whenever it was brought up, though.
“I just hope they’re alright,” Emery said. “All of them, although I know that’s not realistic.”
“I know,” Raphaela said.
Emery sniffed and laid her head against Raphaela’s shoulder, and then picked it up a few seconds later. “Do you hear that?”
A low rumbling, getting closer. A sound she hadn’t heard in months.
Raphaela frowned. “Why does that sound like—”
Emery didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. She jumped up and raced outside, desperate for the source of the noise.
She found it, rattling down the highway, getting closer and closer. It was coming from the same direction they had, headed down south.
Emery began to jump and wave her hands. Raphaela ran outside to join her.
“What are you doing? Shouldn’t we hide?”
“They’re going south,” Emery said. “Look. Look! Whoever it is—” she jumped higher— “we can ask them to take us, too. We’ll give them our scratch-offs or something. Water. It won’t cost them anything to put us in the back.”
Raphaela thought about it for a moment, and then started waving and yelling right next to Emery. The truck grew closer, and Emery jumped higher, praying beyond belief to who-knows-what that the driver would see them.
The truck began to slow down. Raphaela shrieked with joy, and Emery made some equally embarrassing noises. It rolled to stop right across from them, and they ran over, bags in hand.
“Please don’t be a crazy person,” Raphaela whispered.
The truck door opened. Emery held her breath. The driver emerged. It was a woman, tall and heavyset. She wore overalls and a red cap over her long hair. Her eyes squinted, taking in Emery and Raphaela.
“Didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to be out on the highway,” she muttered.
“We’re headed south,” Raphaela said. “Trying to get somewhere warmer.”
“Is that a gas truck?” Emery asked. “Where did you get it? Where did you get the fuel?”
“We just need a little help,” Raphaela continued, “you know, getting down south. Our car was electric, plus it got ransacked on like, day one of this whole mess—”
“Have you seen anyone else on the road? I didn’t know gas cars still existed, let alone a gas truck—”
The woman held up her hands, and Emery and Raphaela fell silent.
“It’s my truck,” she said, “and I’ve owned it for years. Probably as long as you’ve been alive.” She looked between the two of them. “I take it you’re trying to ask me for a free ride.”
“We’ve got scratch-offs?” Raphaela offered weakly. “Not that money is really anything right now.”
“You’re headed south?” the woman asked. Emery and Raphaela nodded. The woman sighed, long and heavy. “I’m going to Georgia. Had family down there once, want to know if I still do. There’s no room up front, but I can squeeze you in the trailer. Take it or leave it.”
“Take it,” Emery said immediately.
“Wait,” Raphaela said. “Really? And you’re not a serial killer or anything?”
“Are you serial killers?” the woman asked. She eyed them suspiciously. “It’d be two against one, after all. Guess we just got to trust each other here.”
“Sure,” Emery said. “I’m fine with that. Can we get in the truck?”
“I’m Raphaela, by the way,” Raphaela said, “and this is my partner, Emery.”
“Marjorie,” the woman said. “Grab your stuff and let’s go. I want to be out of state before the sun’s gone.”
She opened the back door to the trailer, and let Raphaela and Emery hop in and get situated. There was a hanging light, some rolled up mats, and a lot of packed boxes—Marjorie explained she had taken everything. She would settle down south, start over.
Emery dropped her bag on the floor when Marjorie shut the truck door.
“You think this is a good idea?” she asked. Raphaela shrugged.
“It’s probably a bad idea. But it’s also a ride in the right direction. And we can always just hop out the back.”
“Yeah,” Emery said. She shoved her hands in her pocket, finding the ring box. She gently nudged it open to run her finger over the ring as Marjorie started the truck back up. Now that they were headed south, perhaps she could finally propose. The south had some nice places. Gardens, beaches. Somewhere normal and romantic.
The truck back jerked as it began to drive, and Emery felt the ring slip. It dropped to the floor before Emery could stop it, and the light from the lamp hanging precariously above glinted off of it, bright and golden. Raphaela turned to look, and then she seemed struck dumb, staring at the thin gold band slowing rolling to a stop below her. Emery made a grab for it anyway, but it was too late.
“Em,” Raphaela said, her voice calm and steady in the way that Emery knew meant she was freaking out, “what’s that?”
Emery picked it up. “It’s… a ring,” she said.
“I can see that,” Raphaela said, “but why do you have it?”
Emery thought for a split-second, and decided to disregard the romantic beaches and gardens. She gathered up every bit of courage she had left, and dropped to one knee. Raphaela’s calm expression immediately went wobbly, her eyes watery.
“Please don’t cry,” Emery said. “I haven’t even started yet.”
“I’m not going to cry,” Raphaela sniffled, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Okay, well, I got this before—you know,” Emery said, “but it hasn’t changed anything. Raph, I love you more than anything. The last ten years have been heaven. I don’t know what’s next for us, or for the world, or anything, but I know I want you with me. And one day, when we’re somewhere safe, I want to marry you, if that’s what you want, too.”
Raphaela dropped to her knees, eye-level with Emery. “You really want to marry me?” she asked softly, eyes wide in disbelief.
“That’s why I bought the ring,” Emery said.
“Even though I don’t like kids?” Raphaela asked.
Emery couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and dropping her head onto Raphaela’s shoulder. “Oh my god, Raphaela. Yes, I want to marry you, regardless of your feelings on children.”
Raphaela just looked at her for a moment, and then threw herself into Emery’s arms, nearly crushing her. “I love you so much,” she said into Emery’s shoulder.
“I love you too,” Emery said. “So, is that—”
“Yes,” Raphaela said, voice muffled. She pulled back. “You’re so stupid. Of course I’ll marry you.”
“I was gonna wait until we were somewhere nicer,” Emery said, as the truck hit a bump in the road, Raphaela nearly falling onto her again.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Raphaela said. “This is the nicest place I’ve ever been.”
Emery took her hand, and placed the ring in her palm. “I should probably give you this, now.”
“You should,” Raphaela said, and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
They drifted off together, leaning up against the boxes, the truck rattling beneath them. There was a long road ahead, but for the first time in months, Emery felt safe, warm and close to Raphaela.
thank you so much for reading!
i hope you liked the story! i thought i’d give a little bit of background information on this. emery & raphaela are characters i actually came up with about four years ago, in fall 2020. i was working on an apocalypse-themed story (since. you know. it was 2020) and had created emery & raphaela as parallels to the main couple of the story. while i never got around to fully writing the story, i still had some scattered scenes and ideas left in my google drive. this story was created from some scenes of an older version of the story, where emery & raphaela would have featured more prominently, and where the apocalypse happened directly to them.
i would still like to write that story one day (i have an entire outline sitting in my google drive—it still features emery & raphaela, just in a very different situation), but until then, i thought it would be fun to explore this alternate universe with these two characters i adore.
the two scenes i had sitting in my google drive were the scene where emery goes to buy the ring, and the scene where emery proposes. my challenge to myself was to fill in everything else in-between. i thought a lot about what i wanted the apocalypse to be—a meteor, nuclear winter, a disease? but i thought something simple would be more interesting to explore, which got me thinking about much we depend on our devices. solar flares are a real thing, and though in real life one may not do as much damage as it did in the short story, it is still a concern.
once again, i hope you enjoyed this short story, and thank you again for reading! please let me know any thoughts or comments you’d like to share—i’d love to hear them. i’ll see you all soon—i’ve got a spooky poem scheduled for halloween!
until next time,
becca 🌤️
find me on: tumblr | spotify | storygraph