How NOT to end the world

.•° ✿Petunia✿ °•.

RAFE

The day blurred together, both of us isolated and mute. Not much disturbed the house, but the murmur of online meetings and the sqeak of a pet rat. Nothing felt out of the ordinary, but that wrongness didn't leave me. It kept me jumping at shadows. Though now that I have dug through my old highschool items, things I never noticed started giving me flashbacks. Specifically the plant on one of my shelves with the hand painted pot. Its sighned by my highschool teacher Dr. Jorts. The one from my dream. Both of us nerds, but one speciallising arcitecture and one speciallising in plants.

I have the pin to their office in the back of my science book.

I collapse into my bed with a sigh. Its only 12pm. This whole things seems to complicated-all because i was convinced this dream was real. I turn off my lamp and close my eyes, letting the day consume me. But Just before unconsciousness blooms, I immediately woken by a sense of doom-

I must not have closed the window, people breaking in have been a problem on this street recently. I duck under the curtain and go to close the window, but i am frozen in terror. Above me, in the swirl of purple and black of the night sky, angry red meteors plummet towards us.

12:03

They get closer, until i can feel the heat, but I am still frozen.

As if in slow motion, i fall backwards, away from it all, through my bed and into something strange. I feel metal in the palms of my hands, and my head hits the floor. What is happening?

I grab the railing and stand awkwardly, heart pounding across my ribs. My eyes dart around the box I'm in, and I realize its an elevator. Only an arm away was a panel of empty sockets, except for 1. Sharpie was scribbled into the shape of a 12. With nothing else to do, I reach forward and try to click it. The elevator churns, filling the soundless place with low quality music. The button falls to the floor with a few tinks.

I stare at it for a second, before the whirring of a TV spins me around. It reads '12 hours' in a pixelated text, it flickers on and off.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide away, revealing a familiar jungle.

I look behind me, at the old machine, the broken button on the floor, as if the elevator is holding its breath, waiting for me to leave. I know what to do.

I exhale, trying to steady my nerves. What ever happens, I have to warn them. I take a step out, emanating blue, and not looking back.