The World Ended On A Tuesday
When the world ended, it was 8:13am on a Tuesday.
What remained of the human race viewed it from the black chasm of space, now broken refuges of a dying species.
At noon on Sunday the 17th, people all around the world noticed odd malfunctions to technology of all kinds. Microwaves would blare suddenly, computers would fizz with static, and it was impossible to connect phones to a signal at all. It was only at 5pm that same day, people started to panic when it turned out to be a worldwide issue.
Then came the comets. Of course, they weren't really inanimate balls of rock at all; they were metal, and alive, and oh how their eyes did burn you before their weapons did. What seemed like hundreds of thousands crashed into the planet's fragile crust, enough to awaken earthquakes and tsunamis in almost every continent. And all the while the humans scurried frantically for shelter, those demonic men of metal would do their best to hunt them down.
By Monday morning, entire countries were overtaken. Families were eradicated, some killed in an instant, others captured the next moment. The sky had taken an odorous orange tone to it, the air now ashy and difficult to breath. Even the most athletic survivors at this point were panting in moments around the thinning air, and that of course spelled the end of most of them.
For some, hope seemed to appear. A small handful of these metallic aliens bore blue lights for eyes, and were seen to face the red-eyed ones head to head. Humans lucky enough to escape these skirmishes were picked up, and asked to trust us, we're Autobots, the good mechs. But even these supposed saviours were outnumbered.
At 6:49 am on Tuesday 19th of February 2010, less than 800,000 humans were evacuated by these Autobots off planet in incomprehensibly large space crafts.
At 7:59 am, they were hundreds of miles above the earth's rapidly blackening surface. Man, woman and child alike screamed and cried as they huddled together, bleeding, bruised and broken. A gangly boy with bloody bandages around his matted brown hair raised a hesitant hand up to the massive observation window before him, while another boy collapsed like a ragdoll next to his feet.
At 8:09, the boy on the ground grabbed his brother's hand in a white knuckled grip.
At 8:12, the boy with bloody bandages started to shake with uncontrolled hysteria as his home planet started to ominously glow red and crack like glass.
By 8:16 am, the planet Earth was gone. All that was left of its organic lineage were less than a million humans to remember it by.