Here in this place of other, I am an observer.

On an eerily tall mountaintop, I stand. It’s dark shadows and peaks crawling high up into the ether, allowing for a birds eye view of the world below. I gaze down at the cities expanding outward for thousands of miles, feeling nothing. Removed. Casting my line of sight higher, a bright white moon invades my vision---idle, still and perfectly suspended. The sky surrounding it, a rich, uncanny blood red. Hostile wind whips around me and though it should chill me to the bone, it does not. Though it should jolt me from my perch, it does not.

The moon and I, still joined in a silent conversation are soon interrupted. I watch as a flying foreign space rock comes burning through the atmosphere, striking into the side of that magnificent orb. It splits in half and falls away and just like that, the sky seems swallowed whole. Catastrophe follows, with haste.

Omniscient spectacles are placed over my eyes and I watch as the oceans rise up in fury and rebellion, sheer power destroying man, shelter, animal.

The winds howl. The sky cries. Electricity crashes.
Utter, pure, total obliteration.

I awaken, to the sound of rain tapping on my window.
10

You might also like…

Short Fiction

Hopping Mad

Kathryn England

"This is the last straw," Alma said. She had just opened the mail at the kitchen table.   Sitting opposite, Walter peered over the top of his newspaper. "What straw is that?"   "It's anothe ...  [+]

Short Fiction

The Men in the Woods

Daniel Wallace

The men who live in the woods behind my house had been getting out of hand for some time. They were all in their mid-fifties, golfers formerly, and meat eaters -- jolly men in general -- but since ...  [+]

Short Fiction