The Last Day

May 16th 2093. That was the day the world ended. I remember it well. Everything went quite, before it all turned blindingly white, and then everything was gone.

But was it really? Was it really gone? I'm not exactly sure. Because I awoke the next morning, right where I'd sworn I'd died just yesterday, along with the rest of the world. But I was very much alive.

You'd think I'd be glad I survived, but I survived only to live in an infinite loop, forced to relive the end over and over again in different ways, each more horrifying than the last.

I've tried to give up, believe me, but it simply doesn't work. No matter what I do, I wake up the next day, faced with the impending doom of the world coming to a painful end once again.

Today is day 214, and judging from the smoke coming from a nearby building, I can already guess how the world ends this time. Day 214. Fire.