The End of the World

Ideas for Fiction, Writing Exercise #5 from Writing Fiction Step by Step by Josip Novakovich

There's no turning back now.  I put my favorite coat on.  It was one of Ted's last gifts before he passed.  It may be ill-fitting and the seams are beginning to fray but if I'm going to face the end of the world I want to feel like he's with me. 

I take a final look at my living room and take a moment to let the severity of the situation sink in.  My eyes aren't what they used to be but I know every detail of this room.  I know every detail of this house.  The cracks in the wall, the slopes in the floor, they all tell a story.  I feel a tightness in my chest.  Not yet.  I think.  I close my eyes and push my emotions deep down.  I grab one of Ted's old walking sticks and open the door. 

I hobble down the steps.  My joints feel like they're encased in plastic but I am determined to make it to the bay.  It shouldn't take long.  One of the perks of living in this ramshackle house for the past 53 years is the proximity to the sea and the tide has already risen quite a bit.  I bet the waterfront market is now completely under.

I don't think I can look at the house without losing my composure so I keep on walking. 

The announcement came five months ago.  The ice caps are melting.  Everyone get away from the coast.  The rich ones made arrangements right away.  Those with family in the Midwest followed soon after.  Us poor folk were a bit harder to wrangle.  The highway traffic went on for days.  With the help of the Government everyone was out in  less than two months.  Well, everyone except for me.  I have yet to see another living soul on my supply runs.  

I don't have a car.  I don't have anyone to go to.  I've lived in this town my whole life.  Rhonda, the kind woman who used to get me groceries, offered to take me with her.  I told her my daughter was in town.  I would wait for her.

I wonder where my daughter is now.  The last time I saw her was six years ago.  Time had not been kind to her.  She came and begged me for money so I gave her what I could spare.  It wasn't much.  When I woke the next day, my jewelry was missing and so was she.  She never did tell me where she was staying.  I hope she's okay.

Today is significant.  The backups are failing.  They predict a large flood within the next hour according to my old radio.  I just hope I have enough time to watch it as it comes. 

The wind is beginning to pick up and I can smell the sea.  I must be getting close.  My feet are beginning to ache.

Ted was always so hard on Brenda.  I think he had always secretly wished that she would have been the one to die in that car accident.  Poor little Tonya.  She was my sweet girl.  Life has been hard.  They say that God never gives you more than you can handle, well, I think he overestimated me. 

Others may try to survive, to run from the coming flood and here I am running towards it with open arms.  I hope He'll forgive me.  I want to see my Ted again.

There it is.  Wow,  it's beautiful.  It seems Biblical.  I almost wish more people could see the power of nature first hand.  The waves are splashing against the side of what used to be a large hill but is now just above sea level.

I figure this is as good a spot as any.  I ease slowly and carefully into a cross-legged position and I watch the waves.  

I can finally let go.  All the rage and suffering I have experienced in my long life pours out of me as I flood my cheeks with salt tears.  I cry for my mother and father, my deceased older sisters, my little dead Tonya and the person who Brenda has become, and most of all Ted.  

It's liberating.  I wail and clutch at the earth beneath me.  My racking sobs leave a pain in my chest and throat and I don't care.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.  I start and turn slowly.  Have I passed?  Is this my guardian angel that will guide me into the afterlife.

I see an old black gentleman with matted hair.  I scream.

"Woah, woah, woah Lady!"  He looks startled and amused as he throws his hands into the air.  "I'm not gonna hurt you.  I tried calling out to you but you were crying too loud".

I wipe the tears and mucus from my face aggressively.  I am drowning in embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to disturb you.  I just haven't seen another human being in a very long time.  What are you still doing here?"  He asks with wonder in his eyes.

"I should ask you the same thing!"  I really didn't want my last few moments on Earth spent small-talking with a random stranger.

"All right, all right, I'll go first"  He settles down next to me and leans back on his arms.  "Before the announcement, I was just another homeless man.  I had no where to go.  My buddies went on the government bus.  They figured they could make a killing if they pretended they were uprooted from their homes."  He stops to chuckle.  "Anyway, I decided I would stay and live it up for a few months before mother nature took out this town.  I'm old and tired and I don't want to start anywhere new.  These past few months I've been staying in the nicest place in town, eating well, and drinking well."  He says and I realize that I smell whiskey on his breath.

This man has a charm about him.  He seems so easygoing.  "Don't you have any family?"  I ask.  I know it's rude but at this point I don't care about social niceties.

"Well, I had a wife.  She passed away three years ago but we were already separated.  She couldn't support my habits anymore."  At that he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small bottle of Maker's Mark.  He takes a swig and offers it to me.  I watch in amazement as my wrinkled hand reaches out and grabs it.  I never do anything like this and I feel a bit dangerous sharing this bottle with a homeless black man.  I wish Daddy could see me now, I think as I put the bottle to my lips. 

The taste is terrible.  It sends me into a racking cough.  The man rubs my back as I finally get a grip on myself.  I feel the warmth moving down my throat and into my belly.  "Thank you.  So, you never had children?"

"No, the doctors said I couldn't have children.  It's a shame.  I would have made a great father."  He says as he takes a large gulp of the whiskey.  "My name is Roland by the way, what's your name?" 

"My name is Marie."  My voice sounds raw from the crying.  I am sure my face is a puffy mess.  I was no looker anyway.  "It's very nice to meet you Roland."

"Okay, I told my story. Now you spill yours."  He looks at me expectantly.

"All right, where do I start.."  I tell him everything.  I told him about my deadbeat daughter.  My late husband.  My old home and I explained my emotional state.

"It's a shame we didn't meet earlier.  I forgot how much I've needed someone to talk to.  Well, I suppose this is a good a day as any." He says as he lays back and looks at the sky.

"You don't know do you?"  I say, suddenly not wanting to be the one to break the news.

"Know what?"  He looks perplexed.

"Today's the day this city washes away.  The backups are failing."  I sigh and look out on the ocean.  "I heard it on my radio."  I lay back next to Roland.  "The flood should be coming very soon"

"Oh, hell.  You mean we've been meandering around the same town for months and we only meet on the day we're supposed to die.  We could have had a dinner party at my big house on the hill."  He says good naturedly.  You wouldn't think that I had just told him he was going to die today.

"Well, I'm not sure I would've taken you up on the offer before today.  I was a bit of a racist."  I can't believe how blunt I'm being.

He breaks out into a laughter and I join him.  I am reminded of being a child again.  "Imagine that.  Me and a racist at the end of the world.  Well, I guess it's never too late to change."  

I hear a loud roar.  It's coming.  I put my hand on Roland's and grip it tight.  He returns the gesture with a squeeze.  

"Thank you, Roland."

"Thank you, Marie."

We close our eyes and wait for the waves to take us away.

Author's Note

This is the exercise this writing is based on:
"5. With the global warming effect as your basis, imagine the glaciers melting and the ocean levels rising, washing off low-lying city fronts. Now, put yourself into this cataclysm, and imagine what would happen if the floods overtook you and your family. Sketch the place and the characters involved; here you may depart from a family self-portrait. Outline the possible events, and choose what seems to be the most promising story line." (Novakovich, p. 15)

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