The night air was cool and still with only the sound of the insects filling
the ears of the world. The moon was full and bright and the sun was still
on the verge of penetrating the perpetual blackness. High above the still
calmness of the cities and towns, the air was growing warm and damp. The
sun on the horizon was coming up quickly and violently, more like a fire
raging through a forest than a giver of life. The tide of yellows, reds and
oranges whipped up dust into the atmosphere and created a brown-black
balloon around the intense light swallowing the blackness. On the horizon,
buildings were being pulled up into the light. Huge towers and trees were
wrenched easily from their roots and foundations. Cars and small houses
were flung around like nothing more than a child's toy. Slowly, the light
engulfed the darkness, until it was as bright as a supernova, but not quite
as hot. Behind the light came winds and waves wiping the rest of nature
away and killing the seed of the Mother. The winds dethroned the trees and
smashed the mountains, whilst the waves crushed everything in its path.
When the light had finally disappeared and the darkness was dominant again,
the world was silent. No insects could be heard, and the air was now warm
and dry. The cities and towns were in ruins and mother nature was drawing
on her last breath.
The sun was warm in the park as the children played on the swings and seesaws, as they played in the sandpits, and as they ran around after each other. Mothers sat talking to each other, keeping a close eye on their children. A cool wind flew by, whipping up a few leaves and levitating them above the children. They tried to catch and grab the leaves, but could never quite reach them as they danced just out of reach of their finger tips. Birds perched on the top of the swings and the children swung harder and faster to try and reach the birds. One child even tried to climb up the ropes but fell. His mother rushed over to the sobbing child, laughing at his misfortune. The birds flew away and the children stretched out their arms to try and grab one before they all disappeared. Even the sobbing child attempted to catch a bird for his very own, but his mother had him safely in her arms. Watching the park was two men sitting on the grass under a large oak tree. The sun penetrated spots of the tree but it was relatively cool for the two men. The man on the right was quite a short, plump man in his mid thirties. He has coarse brown hair and grey eyes. His moustache was black and archaic and he rubbed and stroked it whenever he pondered on an idea. He had pulled of his blazer as he sat and plonked it next to him. His blue tie fluttered every time the wind passed, and the grass rolled gently under his black loafers. The other man was very different. In fact, he was more or less the opposite. He was tall and lean with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He was about twenty-five and clean shaven. He wore a pair of jeans and t-shirt and sported a pair of sunglasses. In his right hand he held a cigarette, gently rolling it between his fingers.
'Hard giving up, ain't it,' the plump man said. It wasn't a question, but rather and observation. His name was George.
'Yes, it is.' His name was Robert. 'I haven't had one yet today.'
'It's only ten o'clock.' He squinted his eyes at Robert, looking for any sign he gave a damn about quitting.
'Fuck it,' Robert said throwing the cigarette down to the ground. 'Back to business anyway.' George looked at him, but Robert was still staring at the children playing in the park.
'You ever see the film Terminator?' Robert asked George.
'You mean Arnie. Or course I have. How old do you think I am?
'Do you think it could ever happen?' Robert wasn't making much sense but George kept on going.
'You mean robots turning on us and killing us?' George rubbed his moustache. 'I guess it's theoretically possible. Why?'
'No, not the fucking robots. I mean the whole apocalyptic explosion. Everyone dying. The Earth dying.' George could now see that something had Robert spooked.
'What's happened?'
'Nothing. Yet. But, I've found something.' Robert passed George an envelope. It was A4 size and George popped it open and shook out the contents. He held documents and photographs in his hands. He flicked through them, rubbing his moustache as he did so. He had been in a good mood this morning, but now he was looking very anxious.
'Where did you get this stuff, Robert?' George asked. Robert didn't reply. Instead he stared continuously at the children playing in the park. 'Where?' George asked again, this time raising his voice a little too much so that a wandering mother heard. The two men were now getting threatening looks from the mothers, especially since Robert could not draw his eyes from their children. He turned back to George.
'They were delivered to my house yesterday evening. I've no idea who sent them and as you can see, it was hand delivered.' Robert pulled out a cigarette and lit it without a second thought. He took a long hard drag and held it for a minute before exhaling the poison into the air. George picked up the cigarette packet and threw one into his mouth. He had not had one in years and it felt reassuring to feel the smoke glide down his throat, into his lungs and back out again. Neither said a word until they had both finished two cigarettes. Then Robert turned to George;
'What do we do then?'
'Well, if this document is true, then we can't go to the government,' George replied. 'Let me talk to a few people first.'
'That's why I came to you George.'
When Bob woke up he knew what had happened, but he didn't want to look at the security cameras. He stumbled out of bed and walked over to his cupboard. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and sat back don on his bed. His apartment was simple. He had four rooms, just like the rest in the building. He had a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and a living room. His bedroom had enough room for a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and of course his door. The bathroom had the basics, which included a shower/bath. The kitchen had a cooker, microwave, sink and three cupboards. And his living room had a sofa, a hi-fi system, and a few bookshelves that was quite scarce of books. He ate toast and a cup of coffee and wandered outside his apartment. He looked down the hall, both ways. Everything was the same here. The doors were the same except for numbers. The apartments were the same, except for a very few homey touches.
The sun was warm in the park as the children played on the swings and seesaws, as they played in the sandpits, and as they ran around after each other. Mothers sat talking to each other, keeping a close eye on their children. A cool wind flew by, whipping up a few leaves and levitating them above the children. They tried to catch and grab the leaves, but could never quite reach them as they danced just out of reach of their finger tips. Birds perched on the top of the swings and the children swung harder and faster to try and reach the birds. One child even tried to climb up the ropes but fell. His mother rushed over to the sobbing child, laughing at his misfortune. The birds flew away and the children stretched out their arms to try and grab one before they all disappeared. Even the sobbing child attempted to catch a bird for his very own, but his mother had him safely in her arms. Watching the park was two men sitting on the grass under a large oak tree. The sun penetrated spots of the tree but it was relatively cool for the two men. The man on the right was quite a short, plump man in his mid thirties. He has coarse brown hair and grey eyes. His moustache was black and archaic and he rubbed and stroked it whenever he pondered on an idea. He had pulled of his blazer as he sat and plonked it next to him. His blue tie fluttered every time the wind passed, and the grass rolled gently under his black loafers. The other man was very different. In fact, he was more or less the opposite. He was tall and lean with short blonde hair and blue eyes. He was about twenty-five and clean shaven. He wore a pair of jeans and t-shirt and sported a pair of sunglasses. In his right hand he held a cigarette, gently rolling it between his fingers.
'Hard giving up, ain't it,' the plump man said. It wasn't a question, but rather and observation. His name was George.
'Yes, it is.' His name was Robert. 'I haven't had one yet today.'
'It's only ten o'clock.' He squinted his eyes at Robert, looking for any sign he gave a damn about quitting.
'Fuck it,' Robert said throwing the cigarette down to the ground. 'Back to business anyway.' George looked at him, but Robert was still staring at the children playing in the park.
'You ever see the film Terminator?' Robert asked George.
'You mean Arnie. Or course I have. How old do you think I am?
'Do you think it could ever happen?' Robert wasn't making much sense but George kept on going.
'You mean robots turning on us and killing us?' George rubbed his moustache. 'I guess it's theoretically possible. Why?'
'No, not the fucking robots. I mean the whole apocalyptic explosion. Everyone dying. The Earth dying.' George could now see that something had Robert spooked.
'What's happened?'
'Nothing. Yet. But, I've found something.' Robert passed George an envelope. It was A4 size and George popped it open and shook out the contents. He held documents and photographs in his hands. He flicked through them, rubbing his moustache as he did so. He had been in a good mood this morning, but now he was looking very anxious.
'Where did you get this stuff, Robert?' George asked. Robert didn't reply. Instead he stared continuously at the children playing in the park. 'Where?' George asked again, this time raising his voice a little too much so that a wandering mother heard. The two men were now getting threatening looks from the mothers, especially since Robert could not draw his eyes from their children. He turned back to George.
'They were delivered to my house yesterday evening. I've no idea who sent them and as you can see, it was hand delivered.' Robert pulled out a cigarette and lit it without a second thought. He took a long hard drag and held it for a minute before exhaling the poison into the air. George picked up the cigarette packet and threw one into his mouth. He had not had one in years and it felt reassuring to feel the smoke glide down his throat, into his lungs and back out again. Neither said a word until they had both finished two cigarettes. Then Robert turned to George;
'What do we do then?'
'Well, if this document is true, then we can't go to the government,' George replied. 'Let me talk to a few people first.'
'That's why I came to you George.'
When Bob woke up he knew what had happened, but he didn't want to look at the security cameras. He stumbled out of bed and walked over to his cupboard. He pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and sat back don on his bed. His apartment was simple. He had four rooms, just like the rest in the building. He had a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and a living room. His bedroom had enough room for a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and of course his door. The bathroom had the basics, which included a shower/bath. The kitchen had a cooker, microwave, sink and three cupboards. And his living room had a sofa, a hi-fi system, and a few bookshelves that was quite scarce of books. He ate toast and a cup of coffee and wandered outside his apartment. He looked down the hall, both ways. Everything was the same here. The doors were the same except for numbers. The apartments were the same, except for a very few homey touches.