The day had finally arrived. The promised day that had been foretold by many great philosophers of the past. Also, by an ancient civilisation, praised by many as unparalleled mystics, and more scientifically evolved than any others - of their time. A day in which no one truly knew the outcome.

Many believed it to be the end of all. Others argued it was not the end of everything, just merely the end of humankind. Some, even hypothesised that it was not the end at all, but merely the beginning… Of a new age. An age in which humanity will ascended beyond their physical bodies, and experience a new life,that they could not even fathom with their mind’s chained down by the laws of the three dimensions.

Unfortunately for a one: Wilfrid Willington Wine - fourth of his name, nothing had happened so far. The sun still shined, the wind still blew, and the ground beneath his feet still held strong.

Wilfrid rubbed the sleep induced crust out of his eye’s, and stared at the mechanical clock beside his bed.

“Twenty past seven, huh…” Wilfrid sighed to himself, as he stared intently at the two hands of the circular time-telling device.

He rose from his creaking bed and marched slowly towards the calendar, dangling from the iron nail protruding from his bedroom door. The correct month was already present on the front of the paper calender. His eyes quickly found their target. Thanks to his routine of marking every passing day with a red cross, all he had to do was find the untouched number next to a crossed-out number. He exhaled deeply at his discovery...

“Yep… It’s the twenty-first of December. Damn... I’m glad the world is still here; I am, Not like I wanted to die of anythin’. But, I was at least hoping something magical would happen, like those supposed no-it-alls on the internet claimed would happen..” He complained to the still wind.

He wasn’t distraught by his realisation, just disappointed. Like many teenagers of this age, Wilfrid was bored. Even though the amount of entertainment that was available in the modern world couldn’t even be compared to as early as one-hundred years ago, kids actually were more bored than ever.

The abundance of movies, TV shows, games, and even books, all portrayed lives more exciting than the viewer’s. Now we live in a society in which the children all dream of lives they can’t possible obtain.

However, it was different for Wilfrid. He was born and raised on a farm in a town that know one had ever heard of. His house had only one TV - with a mere five channels. His only access to the World Wide Web was by riding his bike to the local library, which was almost never open. His choice of books at home were limited to one of a holy nature, and another one that was nothing but a thousand pages of words and their meanings. On the rare occasions the library propped open its doors, he would use their long outdated computer or an hour, and then leave with a worn-out book in his hands.

His desire for change stemmed simply from boredom. All his days were spent sleeping, eating, and tending to the farm animals. His routine was once livened up by presence of school, but that ended months ago, and his father forbade him of a college life. He now was just nothing more than a helping hand on his dad’s lowly farm.

His father and brothers would beat him if they even sniffed Wilfrid’s desire to leave his hometown for a more exciting life.

So here Wilfrid stayed. An overweight sixteen year old, who only found entertainment at the bottom of a packet of crisps. His only prospects were to find a local girl to marry and work on the farm for his eldest brother, until his body turns in the soil he toils. Now the half-hearted hope of a doomsday prophecy coming true, had abandoned him.

His mood lightened slightly, when it occurred to him that he should at least check the news, before he completely extinguishes his fighting flame.

He quickly dashed down his stairs. In nothing but a pair of boxing shorts, and the hot scent of morning breath escaping his lips. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, at the feeling of his flabby stomach and chest bouncing with each step.

His dusty living room was vacant. His father and siblings were most likely already out in the farm. He dove arse first into his monochrome settee, clutched the remote that jumped slightly in the air from the impact, and then proceeded to turned on the television in front of him.

He stared at the dirty glass screen for about twenty minutes, before finally giving up.

As he got up in search of breakfast, his thoughts trailed back to the disappointment he just recently witnessed. A story about a cat, a geese infestation, and a murder of some bloke in America, was his reward for his hope.

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* * * * *

The icy breeze of a winter’s afternoon tickled the hairs on Wilfrid’s skin. He was in the tattered barn, located at the corner of his father’s land. He was there milking the cows. Well, he was watching the great machines strapped to the dull beasts suck out their lactose juice. There was no actual need for him to personally milk the cows, that would be way too time consuming - not to mention uncomfortable for both parties.

After the cows had been successfully milked, Wilfrid wiped the hot sweat from his brow. As a gesture of a hard days work - of sitting on a stool for hours and staring at cows.

As Wilfrid left the barn and made his journey back towards his house, he noticed the faint ticking noise originating from his left wrist. The old watched strapped to his wrist by a leather strap, told him the time was forty-two minutes past four. Luckily he wasn’t late for anything. Mostly because there was nothing to be late for. So, with nothing but time as his companion, Wilfrid maintained his slow trot - towards his home.

* * * * *

Wilfrid was once again sat upon his living room settee. His face deadpan, as he watched some show about strangers cooking food for other strangers. The program only managed to attract the bare minimum of his attention.

The eccentric man, attempting to make a fancy food dish Wilfrid had never heard of, was not enough to distract him from the mild ticklish sensation on his right arm.

He moved his right arm up to his eyes and stared. Almost hidden in the bristles of blacks hairs, was a spider. A tiny black thing. So small its legs could barely be seen, if it wasn’t for the fact it was moving, someone would easily dismiss it as a new freckle.

Wilfrid didn’t recoil at the sight of the eight legged creature invading his body. As a farm boy, he was used to all sorts of bugs and vermin. A creature of this size, got nothing more than a unenthusiastic slap.

*WHACK*

Wilfrid struck his right arm with his left palm, crushing the beast that dwelled beneath. As he went to inspect the remains of the arachnid, he was slightly confused to find that both his hand and arm were empty. Wilfrid was positive he had hit it, but there was nothing. For the briefest moment, he could have sworn he saw a small puff of smoke for a fraction of a second.

In the end, he simply decided that a spider that small would probably cause such little splatter, he just wasn’t able to see it.

With that investigation over, Wilfrid returned his attention back to the television in front of him.

“Hey Willy! Be a good little lad an’ turn on news, will ya.” Said a gruff voice from behind Wilfrid.

He groaned internally at the newcomers presence. The voice belonged to his eldest brother: Keith. A slow-witted man that was built like a brick house - and looked like one too.

Not bothering to answer his brother, Wilfrid just merely complied with his new order, and switched the channel.

He saw in the corner of his eyes, Keith walking around the settee, and placing that giant arse of his on the cushion beside Wilfrid.

“What’s occurin’ Keith?” Wilfrid asked.

“I dno… I was out in town earlier, and our Maggie said that some right weird shit goin’ down in the world right now; therei is.” The brute replied.

“What kinda weird shit?” The runt of the litter inquired.

“I dno, ya drip. That’s why I asked you to put the news on.” He informed WIlfrid, in a voice akin to the sound of a cement mixer full of gravel.

Deciding that it was pointless to reply to his older brother’s insult, Wilfrid sat silently and watched the news.

“- We don’t know what is quite happening yet. But what we can tell right now, is that all livestock that have been slaughtered in these past fews hours, have all turned into some kind of blue smoke…

There have also been several recent reports, that claim people who have died from approximately 11am, GMT, have also turned into a pale blue smoke; as well.

We have no idea what this means… But… I… We are confused… *SIGH* Ladies and gentlemen, I: Katie Smith, on this day, that many nut jobs claimed to be the end of the world… Am very scared-”

Wilfrid smiled...