The official blog of Jane Domagala

The End - Flash Fiction

The End.

The end is slow in coming. Our eyes have adjusted to the murky red light after two millennium on this planet, but even that cannot help us now. There has been a shift.
I can barely see my hands in front of my face. Or Ritgur at my side. I feel his arm around my waist. I feel his warmth. The rest of the world is cold. Dark and cold.
What will become of us?
Ritgur tells me it'll be alright, we will find a way. He is sweet, but we both know it's a lie. There is little hope for us now.
It has not always been so dark. The Historias speak of a time when the sky was filled with a plethora of twinkling lights. Lights that shone in many different colours; blue, white, orange. The first star, where we began, was described as yellow. That was so many worlds ago, no one really knows if it's true. These words – orange, white, blue, yellow – mean nothing to me. Only red and black. Soon only black.
Ritgur pulls me closer as another solar flare flickers across the sky. It dies out quickly and the sky dims. A mummer ripples through the crowd. They've come to watch the end. There is a collective feeling of uncertainty. All I feel is terror.
Surveyors have been sent to find a new light, but there is little hope that they will succeed. There are no lights left. The one that hovers above us is the last.
The dim, red disk in the sky drops another degree. In the ancient Earethian time that would have taken an hour. This world spins much faster. At least that is what I've been told. Too fast perhaps.
I lean into Ritgur, resting my head on his chest as we begin out descent into darkness. Together, we stare up at the sky and watch the sun set. Possibly for the last time.


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