Frozen in Time

Frozen in Time - Anna Stegeman (Homeschooled, Ninth Grade)

Amanda jolted.

Her sister had stopped mid-sentence, her eyes fixed in an eerie, vacant stare. Her lips parted as if words abandoned her.

“Clara?” Amanda’s voice wavered. “Are you okay?”

Nothing. No blink, no twitch, no response.

“Come on, stop messing around.” Amanda reached out, shaking her sister’s arm. She was stiff, frozen. “Clara—move!” A desperate laugh bubbled in her throat, but it died when she tried to shove her sister back into motion. She didn’t budge.

Panic crawled up Amanda’s spine. “Mom!” she screamed. “Something’s wrong with Clara!”

No response.

Amanda’s breath hitched. Her mother would have come running. She always did. But the house was silent. Too silent.

Heart pounding, she spun and ran through the hall, her feet pounding against the wooden floor. She nearly tripped as she stumbled into the living room.

Her parents sat on the couch—locked in place.

Her father sat with his head tilted back in laughter, his mouth frozen in a wide grin. Her mother stood beside him, hand on his shoulder, her face lit up with amusement. But their joy was empty. Stiff. Like statues carved from time itself.

A sob caught in Amanda’s throat. It wasn’t a prank. This wasn’t normal.

She grabbed her mother’s phone, hands shaking as she scrolled through the contacts. Aunt Carol. Aunt Carol would help.

The first call went to voicemail.

The second.

The third.

Each robotic rejection sent another wave of dread curling in Amanda’s stomach. She dialed every number she could find, even 911. Nothing. 

Amanda ran outside and pounded on her neighbor’s door. No answer. The handle turned easily under her grip, and she briefly hesitated before stepping inside.

The sharp scent of scorched food filled the air. Amanda rushed into the kitchen, finding a pot boiling over on the stove. The bubbling sauce stained her neighbor’s apron and her unmoving legs. Her frozen hands still clutched a wooden spoon.

Amanda switched off the burner, dumped the ruined food in the sink, and swallowed the scream clawing at her throat. If—when—the world resumed, her neighbor would be furious about the mess. But at least she wouldn’t be burned.

Amanda backed out of the house, her breath coming too fast.

She ran to the street.

The road stretched ahead, empty. Motionless. No wind rustled the trees. No birds chirped. No cars hummed in the distance.

Wouldn’t it be nice if a car crested the hill and nearly hit her?

At least then, she wouldn’t be alone.

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut. She had to stay calm. If she panicked, she’d lose herself.

She listened.

Nothing.

A deep, aching silence swallowed her whole.

So, she walked.

The rhythm of her footsteps on the pavement was the only sound, a tiny reassurance that at least she was still moving. Still real.

She walked until time lost meaning. The sun never shifted in the sky. The air remained unnaturally still. Clocks refused to tick. She had no idea how long she had been walking—minutes, hours, days?

Hunger drove her into empty homes, where she stole what she needed, offering whispered apologies to the frozen inhabitants. She saved those she could from boiling pots, from half-tipped glasses, from disaster frozen in time.

But sleep rarely joined her journey. Amanda refused to rest in a stranger’s bed, so when exhaustion won, she curled beneath unmoving trees, her dreams filled with phantom echoes of the world that had once been.

Then, one day, she reached the ocean. She could go no farther.

The beach stretched before her, an unmoving world of frozen waves and stilled laughter. Children stood knee-deep in the water, frozen mid-splash. Surfers clung to the air at the crest of a wave. The horizon stood locked in an endless, painted stillness.

Amanda dropped to her knees in the sand. For the first time, she felt at peace. The silence was not her friend, but she would welcome it as her only companion.

Then—

A sound.

A whisper of something just beyond her grasp.

Amanda sat up, pulse hammering. Had she imagined it? A trick of her lonely mind? Or was it real?

She didn’t know.

But suddenly, she wanted to return home.

She rose to her feet, brushing the sand from her hands, turning her back on the frozen ocean. And she walked.

Back to where she began.

Back to where she belonged.

Back to whatever came next.