In the end, the world was dying. The world didn’t excel into the glimmering future of chrome and holograms. The technological advances were not made because the money to fund them was scarce; the resources, even scarcer. The world became bitter, fighting over what was left of the non-renewable resources. The constant war exhausted the nations of their moral. The rich stayed rich and the poor slowly ebbed away, filling the ground, and eventually, the streets.
It was a meteor that ended the misery. In the silence of space, it soared to its destination. Turning over and over in the vacuum. Summersaulting like a gymnast. At night it appeared as a star, by day, nothing. It was stealthy, unseen, and with no space programs to spot the beast, it remained that way.
Brighter and brighter it became in the night. To a dying boy in India, as he lay on the dry earth, it became the last thing he saw before closing his eyes forever. To a woman in America, while having an affair with her neighbor’s husband, she spotted it blinking at her through the bedroom window as the man on top of her thrusted his pelvis against the wet spot between her legs. She closed her eyes as the euphoria of orgasm flooded over her body, clutching the sheets that her two children were conceived on.
The world pecked on, like a chicken finding the last of the seed within the brown grass. The smoke of war floated into the sky and mixed in with the beige clouds.
Some of the wars were over religions that weren’t real, and as a man in Israel clutched his dying child in his arms, he realized this. On the other side of the globe, two men in love who never had the chance to become parents held each other while lying in their bed, crying softly.
The giant rock came closer still. It became apparent to the living that the growing light against the inky black of night was something more than a celestial star.
It was Earth who decided to kill itself. Gravity took hold of the rock that was destined to hit the Mother of Life, the muse that so many wrote about.
Thousands and thousands of people wrote about the beauty of Earth, its riches and plethora of life.
Billions of people fell in love on Earth.
Billions of people didn’t.
Music of dead musicians filled the ears of the young and old.
A deer in a forest chewed on some leaves.
A desperate, famished person shot it.
Everything that everyone had done was in vain because there was nothing to live on after it was gone.
The meteor hit the earth at all different times because humans perceived time differently. It was dark to some, light to others. However, it all became dark, eventually.
The earth shuttered its last breath as the fire tore across the crust. The blue atmosphere disintegrated, peeling off the planet.
Everyone closed their eyes when the flames hit. Clutching each other, or themselves. Crying. Silent. Screaming.
And then it was over. Nothing existed anymore except a raw, roaring, ragged planet.
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