The Day the Sun Went Away

Netherton, after living a life of fear from others, now faces the terror and anxiety of the end of time.

All his life, Netherton was always wary. As far as he could remember, the only emotions felt, resembled only the swelling feeling that something terrible was approaching. For a time, he believed it to be a phobia brought on by his rather unpleasant interactions with people. However, even now, at 24 years and living in exile, he still felt himself being oppressed by the same sentiment.

            It was an open plain where his cottage dwelt. Barren, and extending into the furthest reaches of the horizon, the land was lightly blanketed in Winter’s first snowfall. He now claimed the land as his own. The cottage, one room under a nearly collapsing roof, provided his meager shelter. Though, nothing of the dwelling was maintained. Being that Netherton’s mind was consumed and occupied by fear exclusively, no other article in his life was significant.

            It was on this day that oppressive fear was bearing down far more heavily than he could recall. A pitiful meal of bread and thin tea churned inside his stomach. Netherton made sure to keep away from the single window on the north side of the cottage, for he could literally feel a negative force emanating from it. As a result, he stayed staring, albeit strangely while a stutter of a heartbeat thundered strongly in his ears.

            The sun was not setting, not so early in the afternoon. More or less, something eldritch and unknown to man, was consuming its rays. It was not smoke, nor fog, or smog, or the vapors of a putrid bog. No storm was due to arrive, thus the presence of black clouds were uncanny. To label the miasma as clouds, is graciously attempting to keep the sight within the sane mind. Though, the origin of the blackened curtain, was what stood above all other attributes.

            This darkening mass creepily poured from above the sky, beyond the sun. Such could explain the swallowing of the sun. Nothing escaped as it gradually vanished, not even one ray of light.

            And as all of this transpired, Netherton could do nothing else, but gaze with gaping eyes and stay huddled out of terror. Just within a frame of several minutes, the sun had now been totally consumed. Darkness, born of no obfuscation of the sun by the moon, had entombed the earth.

            No star or other scintillating celestial body could be seen beyond the dark sun. All that Netherton knew now, was anxiety of unheard of proportions. The darkened day threw shadow over all things. Netherton’s eyes continued to stare, frozen-seeming. While staring, he thought, for once, of the world over the hills and far away; a world he repressed. His only interactions with this world were only brief visits for supplies. Or more specifically, stealing from farming markets under the cover of darkness.

            But what was this world now? Did they see what he sought to hide from? Was it now living under an obscured sun? Netherton reeled and fell to the wood floor merely at the thought of an outside world. He had nothing but intense fear and hatred for it, and he did not even know why. Well, maybe he had forgotten the reason, having confined it inside the deepest sepulcher of undesired memories.

            As Netherton remained in a fetal position on the floor, he dug his own fingers into his skni. He felt trapped within his own humanity, feeling as though the only way out was to claw himself free. It was at this time that he realized what was happening; the light at the end of the world was being extinguished. To survive this dreadful finale, Netherton felt the desire to escape it, as any man would.

            It began with him tearing at his own clothing, removing each article with abandon. Then he stood, his back slightly arched over out of fright, facing the window and hesitantly approaching it. Raising his arms, the voice long held back rose and flew out as a guttural scream. At the projection, the entire window frame and window pane was ripped away and sucked up into the black sky.

            Taking no notice to the sight, Netherton allowed his hands to fall back onto him, and submerged his fingernails into his skin. He screamed at the self-created gore; at the sensation of pieces of his flesh caught under his fingernails. ‘Why did he continue?’, he thought. ‘Shouldn’t there be pain?’ Everyone always reacted negatively to pain as he recalled. Why would he, in utter terror and lunacy, carve intricate lines into himself? Never had he questioned himself so consistently.

            As snow would, glowing embers began to drift quietly down. Although, they did not fade away upon contact with the earth. Rather, they remained luminescent, still alive. This was the final day, Netherton was certain of that. Man was doomed to one horrible death, the death of Earth. There he stood, flesh dangling down from his body, bleeding out on the filthy floor; this is now how he remembered people to be.

            “Glorious morning!”

            Netherton nearly collapsed to the floor at the sound of human speech. He remained standing where he was, frozen, and with eyes downturned. He had not had to truly interact with a human being for years, but now he only stayed silent. Anxiety had him in submission, in the most wretched vise. Here, another man had caught him broken, nude, and horrifically mutilated. Even worse, the man was speaking to him, obviously expecting an answer.

            Still, Netherton uttered nothing.

            “Be not afraid of ye fellow comrade. I bear no resemblance to those beings that look similar of me.”

            Netherton continued to keep his back turned.

            “Why the air of hesitation? Do you not know the importance of this black winter day?”

            At this, Netherton drew forward, and spun to face the man addressing him. He saw nothing that could give a distinct appearance. This particular man stood in the doorway, himself clothed in an almost tribal garment. His feet, his hands, they had all gone dark from frostbite. The sight sickened even the likes of Netherton.

            “I lose full ability to feel with limbs for you; your day. On this day, the Sun turns its back on man, and leaves them with but a hateful and blackened sky. From the sky of the Sun’s hate, drops of flesh will fall and claim the soil and waters. Here, the Liberator will take to the sky with beating wings, and unleash an arm of the Sun upon man. On a throne built of ashes, he will reign.”

What was this man of the eldritch rambling about? Netherton thought extensively, but remained silent. What prophecies had these predictions been deviated from? Netherton had felt the preliminary anxiety and fear of a final end for many years; but here was a man, presumably, explaining exactly how it was to happen, with the same enthusiasm and thoughtfulness one might have when describing the movements of a musical suite.

            Still, this man’s voice bore a hollowness that Netherton had never placed with human speech. A dissonance carried out below his voice; a subtle hum that was harmonized with it. Such began to replace fright with… amusement.

            “The pillars of this temple of blindness, have long been crumbling. Now, it is our duty to demolish it.”

            -Our? Without realizing it, Netherton had spoken. For the first time in years, perhaps his entire lifetime, he spoke. His voice did not bear any resemblance to the way he sounded when he thought to himself.

            “Surprise? Hadn’t you known, all along, as to why you were cast out by the human race?”

            Netherton remained staring in a muse; dread vanished almost entirely. Blood pooled at his feet, running from the self-inflicted lacerations all over his body.

            “Come, our task beckons. Our victims await their fate in chaos. Waste no time, for I promise that they are vast.”

            Netherton, not numbed or blinded by terror, followed behind the ritualistically garmented man. The only thing that may have disturbed him, despite the bout of fevered self-mutilation and this encounter to begin with, was the fact that he trusted this initially unwelcomed visitor. As one could see, Netherton’s fear of other people generated a much-generalized distrust of them. As far as he was concerned, everyone’s words were blade concealing; merely false pretexts to disguise a much harsher and darker purpose.

            Yet, somehow, this man bore honesty, man’s missing trait. No tone used or motion given betrayed his words. Netherton simply had to follow.

            Many minutes later, having walked endlessly, the cloaked guide halted.

            “It is time. Earth has failed, and now is due to expel Her people. Be afraid no longer, the hearth is being swept for salvation’s fires. All of this is on your command.”

            Netherton felt the urge to crumple to the glowing embers beneath his feet. This was the final day, he was sure of it. Yet for the decision to be his; to be the one to give the final verdict on humanity’s ending or continuation? The shadow obscured man called for the curtains on man’s final act to be lowered. Suppose Netherton were to refuse, and the man killed him because of his negation.

            “Still indecisive are we? Seeing as how you’ve followed me thus far, I’ll help you.”

            With a force that had the power to rip apart skeletons, Netherton was seized by the arm and sent hurdling into the sky. He blacked out for several seconds, and when his vision returned, his body floated easily and paralleled to the earth. The cloaked man was above him, out of sight. With barely any energy remaining, Netherton had no volition of his own. All that he could do was to look downward, back to Earth.

            There he saw what he was to put to the ultimate judgment, people running frightened in the streets. He recognized the towering monoliths they referred to as skyscrapers. From his position high overhead, Netherton felt a sense of pity for them. They did not know their wrongdoings; perhaps if they were given a second chance, they would use the opportunity to redeem themselves.

            As he pondered this though, the man above him, supporting this flight pushed down on his back, bringing the both of them closer to the earth. With this new view, Netherton focused further on the masses below. Here, his thoughts of mercy were complicated. Fury’s blazing fires scorched through his heart as he saw them.

            Men murdered children, women were ravaged, hordes of people were accused and in turn accused all others, windows were shattered and possessions looted, pain, greed, suffering. On the horizon, divisions of war planes set off to foreign lands; fools crossing the sea to attack that which they do not understand.

            He continued his flight through the darkened day, caught between two ideas. There was good in this world, but none of it was observed personally by Netherton. Malevolence made its presence known, clearly. Was he to let the few unseen good live but let a legacy of evil carry on? Or would he silence the evil for all time, at the price of non-manifested good?

            Netherton screamed a blood curdling death rattle, never heard by even his own ears. As the chaos rose and fell beneath him, he clutched his wounds; they were splitting open, wider and wider.

++

            Black earth felt soft beneath his feet. Netherton stood overlooking the barren plain; the synthetic atmosphere had dissipated. A hand selected few individuals had denied him out of horror and ran away after he had spared them. The cloaked man lay unmoving at his feet, a caved-in skull under the hood of his garment.

            Mankind had a chance to go back to the start; a new opportunity to rebuild. Netherton, however was not to be included. His life would be carried out in exile, in the very plain he had once inhabited in the merely imagined era of his own humanity.

            Human flesh was piled behind him as he observed the desolate earth, drying in the heat of the sun. All of it had once belonged to Netherton.

Author's Note

This is still a bit in the rough stages. Do let me know of improvements I can make on it.