It's Just The End Of The World.

As it says in the title [for which the credit goes to Panic At The Disco and Nine In The Afternoon.]

For the longest time I’ve imagined this, some days even longed for it. The sky would go dark, but there would be a calming air of acceptance. Death would come quickly, and there you’d have it. The end of the world.

What I never imagined was this. The cries, the slams, the bangs, the screams. No love for your fellow man, or woman, or even child now. This is your ending. When no one else is around to commemorate your demise you don’t care as much about playing the hero.

It had come as a shock. It had started slowly. Does either of those make sense? Does it matter? Because, if you’re reading this it’s not succeeded. It might be the end of the world as we know it, but it’s not the end of the world.

No one noticed when entire cities stopped broadcasting. The levels of human self-deception.

How funny that it was only when Los Angeles, the City of Angels, underwent this treatment, that was when the world sat up and took notice. And so here we are, in Las Vegas, sin city, capital of the Underworld, and I’m finding it more than ironic that this is the last place on earth.

Angels went first while sin is left…the good go young while the evil are eternal.

For once, this movie is going to go the way a million should have. The bad guys are going to win.

Was it the fear? The fear of not knowing if you would wake up the next morning. Not that fear, no. It was more the fear that entire civilisations seemed to vanish, and the magician wasn’t sharing his secrets.

But what I fear more than anything these days is silence. The barren wasteland of lives wasted. And it’s quiet outside…no, not quiet. Quiet implies some kind of noise, some indication of human life. And it’s the silence I fear. The kind of silence where you lie in your bed at night, your own breathing downing out any clue of others. And then you’re convinced. It’s the end of the world.

Only you forget this, going back to sleep after hearing the comforting and familiar sound of life.

You forget this until the moment it happens. Then you remember the clenching fear, the blood seeming to stand still in your body even when you can feel it thrumming through your veins. The utter stillness of your body is not through choice, but made rigid by fear, fear that if you move you’ll miss those sounds you crave.

He was one of the first. He was in Los Angeles, had just finished telling me how beautiful it was there. “Baby, can’t you just fly out?” He was due home the next day, I’d scolded him, I wasn’t flying out for one night. “But I miss you,” he’d whined petulantly. I’d told him if he would act like a child, I’d treat him like one. So, customary to our conversations I’d ended the call. I’d been off the phone maybe 5 seconds before I redialled. But it was too late. Oblivion had come calling and you just can’t say no to an offer like that.

My breath’s catching in my throat now, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s the silence which kills you. That void of human life. How can you fear the one thing supposed to bring you peace? But I don’t want peace. I want life. These days, they’re practically mutually exclusive.

And so dear reader, can I leave it to you?

Author's Note

Any comment on any aspect is appreciated.

Reviews

[Steve Thompson]

No one noticed when entire cities stopped broadcasting. The levels of human self-deception.
This is powerful line, and with the piece to say, I think it was a good presentation.