The world is falling, yes falling down, in space. The Sun has finally gone out, forsaking Earth to fall down into the mouth of the abyss. Nothing can stop it. Not our technology nor our faith.
We have three days to live at most till the Earth freezes over and disappears forever into the darkness. We have nothing to strive for. We know we are going to die. If not by freezing, by the oceans washing over us or by scavengers, who so desperately cling on to their hopes.
Have you known fear? Have you known desolation? None have known this; nothing could have ever prepared us for this.
Hear me, the world is ending. This is my last entry in this journal, should our world survive by some miracle, I want the world to know that I existed! My name is Mark Bridge and my hand-print is the proof that I existed!
So please, whoever is reading this. If you can, in any way, remember me.
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Mark dug the sharp end of his rusted blade into the flesh of his right palm. Blood began to run free and soon covered the entirety of his hand. Mark then pressed his hand firmly against the blank page next to the one he had just written in.
Once he was satisfied with his work, Mark placed the the book on a nearby ledge. He then struggled to staunch the crimson, still gushing from his hand, and wrap his hand in bandages with his other hand. Just as he was about unroll the bandage a heavy set of arms grabbed his hair from the back and rammed his head ruthlessly into the nearby wall.
Mark saw blackness cloud his vision. He felt his life's blood flow from his torn forehead as he saw a couple of shapeless figures stand above him and talk in harsh, unintelligible voices.
Mark's final thought was that this his end has come.
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Mystery / ThrillerWhat happens when the world you knew crumbles and slips away from your fingers into unfathomable darkness? What if the sun basked day you just lived was the very last?
