The End

A Story by Alan B.

The end of the world.

They awaited the end of the world on top of a low hill during the splendor of spring, when nothing seemed close to ending or dying. The birds sang their cheerfully oblivious songs and the bumblebees buzzed lazily from flower to flower, ever mindful on their work. Gentle warmth came down and touched their bodies, cooled by an occasional silk-tipped, amorously languid gust of wind.

No, it did not seem at all like the end of the world but the world was deceptive, and could easily fool their weak senses. They had come because the end of the world was a matter of feeling, not seeing. Deep in their consciousness they had felt it, tripped on like a switch searched for in a dark room.

Now they partook in the final dance of legerdemain, the final embraced sensuality.

With the last turn they faced each other and bowed, then raised glasses of sparkling fluid, toasting with resigned smiles and drinking in rapturous flourish to fall a moment later where they stood. The world swallowed them into the hill jealously, and though spring continued and people lived on, It had ended.

© 2014 Alan B.

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Reviews

Maglia Weaver Twill

What does this say here? I like it, but I wonder at this crowd and if it has an overall gist or descriptive presence. It must be a certain crowd I should think...

Posted 10 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

10 Years Ago

Well the crowd is whichever one you see in your mind. It's up to your interpretation.

10 Years Ago

well the one I see right now is not the one I would hope to imagine, (but that's just me)

Jeannette Lunete

Such a captivating masterpiece. I enjoyed your wonderful writing style and the dystopian pattern followed by the perfect set of scenes that keep your attention. Props!