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Don't write enough, to much sleep

Message to Readers

The end of the world has come. People board ships to escape. Among the damned. Two men accept the end.

Noah's Ark

June 4, 2018

The promise was broken, the rainbow mean't nothing. Humanity was once again paying for its sins.

    "Harold! Run!" My mother yelled. I could barely hear her in the ensuing chaos. Boulders rained down like hail. The ground quaked every second. Screams were heard in the air. People were begging for mercy.
     Earth was on its last legs.
     Everyone knew this would happen, I thought as I dashed through the crumbling terrain. We had taken away the very foundation of the planet and now it was smashing itself to bits. I huffed as I pumped my legs. Adrenaline powered my every step. I prayed that I would be able to once again confine myself in my mother's arms once again.
   "Wait! Wait!" I shouted. The doors of the ship were closing. They saw me. They heard me. 
    But they didn't stop the doors. They held my mom back from trying to get me. I recognized the sorrow in their eyes. I was on my own. The doors shut, the engine ignited. My sleek, silver, rocket powered savior shot into the sky. The last of the ships exited the earth's atmosphere. The tech that doomed my life was other people's saving grace.
    It felt ironic. My world shattered alongside the earth's crust. Sinkholes plowed through the dirt. Houses, cars, people. No one was safe from them. 
     "Oh god why?" I pleaded aloud, "Why me?" I plopped onto the ground. Tears didn't fall. The sickening feeling in my heart was unnoticeable among the terror. I felt empty. Maybe it was shock. My brains defense against the unfathomable terror.
    It was surprisingly easy to accept my fate. It's pretty hard to deny death as it stares you in the face. 
    As I sat on my grave I thought about the warning signs. I should of known what was happening when I saw every company announce their new venture. Space Travel. Light speed would become as common as 15 miles they said. The Fat Cats knew. They knew that their greed had destroyed our homes. 
     "Hey! Hey! Hey!" Someone called. The rails of my train of thought crumpled as I turned my head to the voice. "Help!"
      I saw a man under the ruins of a house. The marble was crushing him. I still had enough soul in my body to rush over and attempt to help him. The heavy stone was a challenge. Its weight fought my already tired and weakened arms as I tried to push it up.
       "Arrrrrrrgh!" We both grunted in unison. We won in the end the stone rolling the marble of his legs.
       "Thanks." He huffed. I could see the relief on his face. 
        "So, what's your name?" I asked exhausted.
         "Does it really matter?"
         "No. But you got to enjoy the little things."
          "Hah. 'Enjoy' you say." He chuckled. "Amongst all this insanity. You wish to 'enjoy'."
           "You act as if because death is inevitable, we can't enjoy things." I retorted. "If that was the case then calling me over meant nothing in the grand scheme of things."
            "Hahahahaha! Here we are, two men bickering about frivolous things." It seems as though I saved a mad man, because he laughed again. "Steve." He told me, "My name is Steve Grickle."
             "Harold Johnson." I told him. For a second, even though reckoning raged on, it felt normal.
              He laid and I sat. The world was bringing on its own end. And within it, we talked. Dreams, aspirations, fears, and our trials flowed endlessly from our mouths. He told me of his exes. I told him of my failed book writing ventures. He told me of his dad. I spoke of my mom.
                It's an odd thing. To hear the magma erupt. Civilization topple. And your world crumble. And still laugh through the madness. The floods. The heat. The rain. 
       And the rainbow.
       Two men laughed during all of it.

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