One final goodbye
A comfortable warmth enveloping him, the soft feeling of safety present, he awoke from his dreams. A soft yawn escaped his brittle lips.
His fingers planted on a familiarly soft bed sheet, pulled it aside, revealing his old and fragile body. The man rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes, then lifted himself into a sitting position.
His deep and worn-down voice broke the silence, "Seems like today's the day."
The old man managed to get out of bed, his face filled with wrinkles and turns edged by the currents of time. He fetched his glasses off his nightstand – a handcrafted piece of wood his brother had gifted him a few decades ago.
Like expected... where they have been every morning for dozens of years, he thought as he pushed the glasses up his hook nose. The world around him suddenly got much clearer through the thick glass, revealing the details of his surroundings – his bedroom.
He turned, faced the other side of the bed – an empty space where only a blanket and a pillow rested, folded and carefully put down on the mattress. He made sure to fold it up every evening, even though no one used it anymore.
"Good morning Ella. Hope you slept well." He moved over to fold the edges of the blanket and patted uneven spots back to perfection. Today wouldn't have an evening, but he still wanted this place to look clean as he left.
The old man managed a nostalgic smile, waves of the past sweeping over his now rather slow mind. Oh, how I miss these old times... luckily, we will finally put all of them to rest today, he thought.
"Well," he spoke as he readjusted his glasses, "time to grab a meal."
Soft steps got planted on even softer carpet flooring as he patiently steered forward. He made his way downstairs, along the hallway, over to the aged kitchen. The only sound audible was the quiet, rhythmical ticking of his Cuckoo-clock. The taste of white bread and eggs filled his nose, which he gladly welcomed.
His eyes wandered around, observing all details of his past spread across the room. The burned pieces of wallpaper close to the stove. The aged, nicely cut wooden table which had carried so many delicious meals. The paintings on the walls created by his so much beloved wife. He beheld all of them for one last time.
Then, after scrambling around for a couple of minutes, he had made himself a breakfast. It was the one Ella had used to make for him: fresh eggs and bacon on delicious white toast.
Plain but beautiful, a sign of true love, he thought.
The man ate his food, then took his medicine – a routine engraved so deep inside of him that he only realized his actions after he had already done them.
"I don't even know why I still use them. It's not like they will be the reason I die today." A soft chuckle drowned out the ticking of the clock for just a second. Silence momentarily enveloped the room.
Then, suddenly, the TV – an analogue one – which rested upon a rather small dark oak shelf turned itself on. Static, then a news report. A reporter loudly rambled something about the end of the world, the approaching doom of humanity. He exclaimed that today, in just a couple of hours, the world would come to an end.
The old man fetched the remote off the kitchen table, turned off the TV with a single press of a button.
A frown formed on his forehead as he spoke. "Emergency program? Ah... as if that would get them anywhere. Some things just shouldn't be watched on TV."
The man turned his head, glanced out of the window.
"Some things need to be experienced."
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Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Over the course of the next few hours, the man moved around his house and garden, saying goodbye to all of his surroundings. There was a lot to cover up and so little to pass on.
His banjo, which he played for one last time – an instrument which had followed him through most of his life. His fingers danced across the strings in a sad song of nostalgia. All the busy nights, sitting in front of the campfire and singing songs to his friends and family... from which only smoke and mirrors remained. The laughter of their voices had been silenced long ago... now all he had left were the memories.
His car, which had helped him visit half of the world. He gave it one last drive around the old man's property. This vehicle had shown him so much: so many impressions of different cultures, buildings, nature. From long trips through foreign countries to short peaceful drives on warm summer nights: The rough sound of the motor had always filled him with peace. Now, he had heard its smoky sound for the last time.
And finally, his beloved garden. Plants and trees which had sparked so much joy, rooting peacefully in front of his home. They spend fresh air all over the yard. Yet, he had never really been a big gardener himself, preferring his music and car. His wife, however, had always loved plants and nature. After her death, that joy had sparked over to him a little. She had always loved to see the flowers bloom and the animals visit their garden...
... and he had made a promise on her deathbed so many years ago...
... and like every single day before, he watered all the plants his wife had left him behind...
... for one last time.
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"It should be time now every second." the old man spoke to himself.
He leaned back against his favourite chair – a rather basic wooden one – its paint already worn down from decades of sitting and leaning, creaking with every slight movement he made. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, felt the smooth, lightly warm porcelain on his rather dry palm.
He took a slow, calm sip, sensed the taste he had woken up to every day fill him with calmness. His gaze had fixed on the sky as he was ready for anything about to unfold.
The winds had already gotten stronger over the course of the last few minutes, leaves whirling off the trees one after another. The man felt the cool breeze on his aged skin, his few remaining white hair moving around by the currents of air.
Yet, he didn't bother.
In the sky high above, the light of the sun had faded, revealing an almost pitch black horizon. One big, glowing orb appeared to be locked upon the world beneath it, a relentless moving eyeball glooming down upon the darkened earth.
The old man finished his coffee, put down the porcelain mug on the slightly trembling dirt in front of him. His facial expression stayed calm, his posture still leaned back, fixed in place.
The earth around the surrounding area began to tear open and crumble, enormous gaps and cliffs being created over the course of bare seconds. The ground lifted and sunk, nature enslaved to the forces of the creature towering high above in the skies.
Yet, the man remained calm.
Beneath the glowing orb, up high in the atmosphere of the earth, an inhumanly large static grin had formed across the horizon. Multiple rows of sharp teeth pitied the downfall of humanity, mocking their bare existence from out of reach. Mud-green tentacles started to sprout off the eye, bursting out of its spherical appearance like a germinating seed. They covered the sky, blocking the vision to outer space, as inhuman screeching forced itself upon the globe like a hurricane of sound.
The old man peacefully shuffled a bit in his chair, the ground to his left now being a kilometer deep cliff, sitting only a couple of steps away from his certain death. Large chunks of his house broke themselves loose, flew away, and whirled into the distance by the forces of the beast above. The man reached for his shirt near his neck, fetched out an amulet, and gripped it tight.
"Oh Elly, if only you could see this right now. This moment would be much more beautiful with you by my side. Luckily, I finally can come to join you." He hesitated, then continued, "Luckily, I lost the fear of death years ago. We had delightful moments together, didn't we? Life always was a journey to find meaning, but without you, my meaning had faded."
Tornadoes formed in the distance, massive tentacles descended upon the earth. An entire village on the horizon got wiped off existence in the blink of an eye.
The world fell down in grief and terror, countless lives all over the planet coming to an end every second.
Tears appeared on the old man's face, creeping down his cheeks. This time, they weren't tears of sadness like the ones he had shed so many times before. No, this time things were different.
This time, they were tears of joy.
"It is now time. I will finally see you again. We will be together for all eternity. The world might end, but for me it will be the beginning of my new true meaning."
The systems of reality began to blur and fade.
Gravity stopped working.
The temperature raised.
The rivers, lakes, and even the oceans dried out.
Oxygen faded.
In the last moments of his life, the old man managed an honest smile. Since he had seen enough, he was ready to die. As he got aware that his journey was about to end, his lips formed his final words.
"And like every good story, my life has to come to an end. Nothing can truly be complete, but I am still happy. I am happy since the end fills my journey with meaning. May my end be the beginning of something new: A spark of change in the endless sea of the universe"
And so, somewhere in the endless depths of space, a man died.
Somewhere, in the endless depths of the universe, a planet ceased to exist.
Somewhere, in the never-ending depths of reality, a silent cry echoed through the fabric of existence.
But somewhere,
in the depths of existence itself,
far away from the events told,
a new light was born.
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