Title 29

Short, first story on this site.

The wind played with his hair on the rooftop. It was the end of his shift, and he went up to watch the sunset.

The world was ending.

Maybe not fast, but slowly and he could feel it.

Yet at the same time, it was going on. The world was ending and it continued at the same time.

He shivers as the wind gets colder, opening his bag he opens it and takes out some milk bread. There's nothing that compares really, to bread. Clean of the sin of meat and still warm.

He takes a bite and sighs.

What can I do? He thinks.
I don't want to die.
I don't want to die.

There was a time when he wanted the world to burn, and when he wanted to watch but he was young then.

The world goes on, and that's beyond us.

Like the sky, like the earth itself. Like the stars that watch us.

It was getting darker.
It always got darker.
It will always get brighter.

Is it wrong for him to be the same?

Reviews

[Keon Batson]

What an interesting poem! Definitely makes you wonder what's really happening.

[Lisa Fox-Reilly]

definitely interested in finding out the circumstances of the world ending...and what made him change from wanting the world to burn to how he is feeling now.