The lone man stood on the glass hill, looking out at the glass world before him. In the sky, there were bright flashes of plasma lancing down to seal the fate of this dead world.
No. Not dead. Dying. He could tell now, could taste the slow decline of life. It was as if every second the world was bombarded might be the terminal point, might be the end of this fragile thing known as a 'planet'.
The atmosphere hadn't boiled away yet, a small mercy that he wasn't really thankful for. It meant that the end, if it came, when it came, would be slow. He'd die without water or food, alone.
The water was already boiling away into steam, great plumes of the vapours rising stately into the burning sky. Whatever was left would be so clogged with ash, it may as well be mud. It made his hike here, his hike to the center of the splash of glass in the center of the world where the glass had already cooled, pointless.
He supposed he just wanted to see the glassing happen, be there when the world breathed its last and died. He'd die with his planet.
Or... Other options presented themselves to the man in the stained, battered clothes. He fingered the pistol on his belt. It was small, true, barely enough to kill a Grunt but enough, if he put it to the vulnerable part of his skull, to do the job quickly.
But he'd go take some of the Covenant out with him, if push came to shove and he didn't want to die on this peaceful hill.
This peaceful hill he'd walked to over the vitrified remains of people, cities and animals. Just thinking of the hike made his feet twinge.
His family was there somewhere. He'd been in the country, when it happened, but as soon as he had heard of the glassing he had driven his car to the edge of the field of cooled glass and walked to this hill, his final resting place if he had anything to say about it. The mineral had still been warm when he had stepped on it, and cooled as he had continued. He knew he'd probably get some horrible disease from walking on the stuff, but this was the end and didn't care.
Let it kill him.
He lay down on the slippery surface, ignoring the ridges and whorls that dug into his back uncomfortably. He watched the sky, still a clear blue despite the drama taking place under its vault.
Now he was glad it hadn't boiled away.
He dug in his pockets, the grime transferring itself from the fabric to his hands as he pulled out a phone and a pair of headphones. He plugged the headphones in, and stuck them in his ears. A soft song played, further reinforcing his mood of indifference.
He lay there, a statue to all but himself. The music echoed in his head, echoed so loudly he was suprized that no one heard it and came to look for him.
He touched the pistol again. It felt heavier, and more repulsive as he remembered the manner in which he got it. Pulled it out of a dead man's hand, just in case, he'd told himself, in case it takes to long to die and I get bored. Gallows humor, but it still felt good to know he still had a sense of funny.
He hoped that some day, some how, they'd find a way to restore his home. He didn't know if it could be done, but still it was good to have some hope.
He didn't know precisely when he felt that the planet died. Hours had passed, the moon glittering coldly in the sky.
But he felt the death as surely as he'd felt that there was no chance of escape. A faint stalling in the wind, maybe, or the calmness in the earth.
He lifted the pistol to his skull.
Years passed. Time helped heal the battered planet, with terraforming and humans having some hand in it.
Colonies were established. Colonies turned into towns, into cities, into a world.
Half a century after the devastation wrought by plasma, children played in the field by a glass hill.
Keanya White was one such child. Daily she played near the hill, never going closer that three meters to the shiny mound.
A Friday after school she did differently, took extra steps she'd been to scared to take before, and sunk her foot with a 'crunch' into something under the grass.
She tore her foot out and crouched by the hole she'd created. In it, something white gleamed.
The skull grinned at her as she screamed and ran for her mother.
A/N: Rarg. I was having extreme writer's block with The Voices in My Head so I wrote this random thing. There is absolutely nothing funny in this, which I apologize for because I like funniness. And it's really short.
Out of curiousity, what would you do if you found a random skeleton in your backyard? I have no idea what I'd do.