Futurism logo

End of Days

by Natalie Edwards about a year ago in fantasy
Report Story

Treasured Possessions

It lay there glistening, twinkling with all its impeccable might, as the sun teasingly reflected against it; begging for my full and present attention.

I can't possibly even try to deny that I couldn't take my eyes away from it ; it being the only thing of beauty, indeed the only thing at all, I had left to call mine. My only two possessions, my heart locket and a stolen loaded handgun that I'd taken for my protection,  were in sharp and violent contrast to each other. Beauty and the beast; one borne of love, and the other alluding to death.

The city was a vast, empty and wretched void; once where there had been tall, positively overbearing office lego-kit like blocks, full of disgruntled,  overworked and thoroughly stressed executives, and their 9-5 robotic slaves, now stood row after row of burnt out nothingness.

No sound to be heard, no one to be seen; they had all vanished,  the end had come, as once was prophesied,  and yet here I was, alive, alone and unsure of the purpose of my continued existence.

Me and my heart shaped locket, which still lay twinkling, as though nothing had changed. If only it knew.

It seemed such a sharp contradiction; the beauty of my heart locket; never faltering, and the blatant and vulgar horror of my dark reality, my vacant carapace of a life; no content, just survival. Not even of the fittest,  as I had no comparison to beat.

When the Earth had shaken with all its might , when the terrible realisation had set in, when I lost my beloved family in quick and painful succession; my father, mother and my lovely Darnell, the dark had fallen all around me, blocked me in, cloaked my being in sadness. The ultimate sadness. Depression hung over me with a weight that was heavy enough to physically drag my small frame down, although it was emotional, not physical and immensely debilitating in every way possible.

I lay still for days, with the same unholy catastrophic backdrop, the same melancholy desperation hanging over me- but I felt I must try to survive. Though God knows why.

Then I saw my locket, a gift from my Fiancé on my 29th birthday; a token of his undying love. A lifetime ago, or so it seemed.

The lights at Christmas had been so beautiful last year, last year before the World as I knew it had ended, when there had been 'others' and conversations had flowed as freely as the rivers. There were no conversations now, only internal dialogue that made your head feel as though exploding may be a possibility, and indeed may even bring welcome relief.

A form of madness was sure to set in at some point; maybe it already had. Even my appearance was an alien concept, which was a deeply unnerving quantity considering I was so heavily preoccupied with my image. No mirror needed in no man's land. All fascination with aesthetic details seemed so meaningless now, firmly stored in my battered and gloomy imagination,  memories I can barely grasp, though I try with all my might.

All reasonable thought, and the processes underpinning this, had evaporated into the smoke filled atmosphere; I didn't know where to go, what to do, how to survive,  or even why I should try..for what was left for me?

Yet death, and the nothingness that would undoubtedly follow still had the power to shake my senses back to life; but this surely was no way to live.

My family had gone, my little dog Mila, and my friends, my phone although in my pocket, was redundant of all duties, and even if it had worked, everyone was gone.  Taken by the night, in the night, as the storm raged on, a storm of such proportions no one survived, leaving death and destruction and little else besides.

My locket sparkled on though, radiant with the love with which it was given; so I placed it round my neck and lay on the dark, dusty ground, safe in its embrace; it consumed me and there I stayed. I knew what I must do.

Forever my locket would shine, and it carried on, so was the persistence of its opulent beauty. It sparkled brightly as I took my handgun and fired it into my mouth, it twinkled as I felt my breathing slow and cease, and it glimmered still as I faded gently into the dark.

I lay next to my locket, an empty vessel of broken dreams, a symbol of defeat, and yet, my locket shone on, a symbol of love, hope and light.

There it stayed.


About the author

Natalie Edwards

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2022 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.