One-Shots

The End of All Things

    The end of all life began with an explosion.
    The deafening sound filled their innocent ears, and blood slowly dripped from their orifices. They clutched their pounding heads in pain, most oblivious to the fragments of human tissue swirling around their bodies. Some of the beings' lives were over in an instant, with the snap of a finger; others, however, were forced to endure the pain longer.
    Fire licked the earth, burning the remaining beings' flesh. The beings seemed to dance and prance through the flames, their agonizing screams turning into an alluring siren song for the malevolent spirits of demons producing more pain for the beings. As flesh separated from their muscles lying below the skin, their dancing grew weaker and weaker, until they were hobbling on the melted stubs of what used to be their lively feet.
    As the ground burned, the waters and oceans were sucked dry. As each day passed, the water began to recede more and more. The beings still left were scrambling to gather as much water as they could before the water completely evaporated, but the water they got disappeared into the burning atmosphere, as well. Many began to die of crumbling lips and throats as dry as desert sand.
    Food became scarce. The fires that once plagued the earth had burned the vegetation to black ash, leaving next to nothing for with the humans could feed themselves. Not only did their stomachs shrink and begin to suffer mind-numbing hunger pains, the little food that was found was fought over. The beings clawed, bit, and beat their way to food, even if it meant the death of a fellow survivor. The amount of lives left on the planet was beginning to dwindle to dangerously low numbers.
However, many beings held on, and soon enough, a great rain came, quenching the fires and bringing fresh water back to the earth. The survivors drank it up, their dry throats swallowing greedily.
After the beings began to believe the worst was behind them, worse things began to unfurl. Billowing winds that would send a human flying for miles, crashing waves that fell well into the mainland, and thundering rain clouds that brought murderous lightning strikes with them. The beings were hit with fiery cracks of electricity, blown into stone walls or sturdy trees at inhuman speeds, and submerged under water until death wrapped its greedy claws around them.
    The days continued, and the death rate continued to rise. People who lost hope were the people who slit their wrists, slashed their necks, stumbled upon a loaded weapon and pulled the trigger. They had lost their families, their friends, their lives. The aching pain in their chest pounded and pounded and pounded until it burst forth, taking down a life with it.
    The ones who desperately clung to hope's slippery fingers pressed on, fighting every moment for their endangered life. Lucky ones happened upon surviving animals and ate well; others trudged about in search of anything to fill their empty stomachs. They conserved water, were able to find shelter during the ever-appearing storms, and steadily began to build lives in the barren wasteland they once called home. For a time, there was peace. For a time, there was revival. For a time, the future looked hopeful.
    That time was short-lived, for when He gets bored, He unleashes his most sinister bag of monstrosities.
The colossal, twisted creatures fell to the healing earth. Obeying their father's commands, they unleashed mighty screams and began hunting the quivering humans. The onslaught of beasts rampaged, dashing for anything that flinched and ripping it into chunks of flesh. The humans screamed and pleaded for their lives' sake, calling out to a Creator who brought upon this suffering. The horrendous monsters feasted on their fear and torment, and their blood thirst was never-ending. They devoured many of the remaining humans, their blood trickling down their necks and snouts.
    The humans did not last much longer. As the assault from the monsters continued, the human numbers quickly dwindled to nothing. The monstrosities' father returned them to their home and took a moment to gaze upon the empty, dying planet.
    He remembered making the first human. How it had stumbled around like a baby deer, struggling to gain its balance. He remembered going down to the planet to show the being how to make food, hunt animals, and make clothes. He gave the human a companion to not only begin populating their new home, but because He could feel the loneliness that plagued His creation's beating heart.
    He let them live their own way, and soon, they forgot about their humble Creator. They became obsessed with many different things: clothes, money, food, even other humans. Instead of Him being idolized, a frail human was being honored for starring in a popular human movie. They brought about new Creators, giving them different names, faces, and beliefs, and He remembered the anger and jealousy He felt as He watched His darling creations turn against Him.
    They had all felt so immortal, free of the death that was always looming over them. In a land of life or death, anyone can die, and anyone can live; it all depends on which path they happen upon that will decide their fate.
    For them, the end of the world lasted decades.
    For him, it only lasted minutes.