Michael groggily got up from bed, feeling tired but relieved that the night of tormenting dreams was over. He went through his usual morning routine, showering and making himself coffee. He took his medication, making sure not to forget it again. As he sipped his coffee, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. For now, at least, the dark thoughts seemed to have receded.
He needed some fresh air, so Michael opted for a walk around his poor neighborhood. The streets were empty and quiet, with most people staying indoors. As he walked, he felt a sense of unease, like he was being watched. He turned around to see two young men following him. Michael quickened his pace, but they kept up with him. After yesterday, he suspected they were working for Tony, keeping an eye on him. Perhaps these goons were meant to scare him?
Michael tried to shake them off, but they persisted. He felt distressed and wary, wondering what Tony wanted from him. Was he in danger?
His heart was pounding as Michael reached his not quite run-down home. They already knew where he lived, so there was no running. While Michael thought himself stronger than either of them, he didn't fancy a two on one fight. Not that it would solve anything, they would just come back later.
Michael closed and locked the door after he entered his house. He squinted through the tiny peephole and saw two men lingering outside. They murmured quietly amongst themselves before settling down on the stairs of the adjacent building. They kept vigil, occasionally flicking the lighters to light their cigarettes.
Michael watched them back for a few minutes, but seeing as they were content to just sit there, he decided to get back to his own business; there wasn't really anything he could do anyway. Calling the police was too risky—they might just frighten the intruders away, or worse, focus their attention on Michael himself.
He cooked a quick meal for himself and went to sit in front of the television. His heart began pounding as Michael watched the news. It turned out, the comet had picked up speed and was projected to pass close to Earth in only two days. It felt like no time at all. The government had advised people to remain inside, ensuring them they'd take every measure possible to guarantee their safety.
Michael sank down onto the couch, feeling a sense of dread settle over him. The news report kept showing images of people preparing for the worst, hoarding supplies and fortifying their houses. He couldn't help but wonder if he should be doing the same.
But, as he sat there, Michael realized he didn't have anyone to help him. He didn't have any friends or family here. He didn't have any supplies or a safe place to go. He was completely alone. Despair weighing heavy on his shoulders, Michael knew he couldn't simply sit and wait for the comet to hit. He had to do something to ensure his survival.
He quickly got up from the couch and grabbed his worn-out backpack from the corner of the room. Michael scrounged up whatever money he had left, knowing it wouldn't be enough to buy all the supplies he needed. But it would have to do.
Michael made a list of the essential items he needed: canned food, water, first aid kit, batteries, a flashlight and some blankets. He knew he couldn't waste any more time.
He made sure to leave by the back entrance, just in case the two guys from earlier were still around. Let them watch an empty house, as long as they didn't know about his little hiding spot under the backyard porch it was fine.
With the list in hand, Michael made his way to the nearest convenience store that he knew. The streets had only a few people scurrying about, everyone already at work. The shop was almost empty when Michael arrived. He quickly filled his cart with whatever he could and made his way to the counter.
The cashier, a young woman with dyed pink hair, raised her eyebrows at Michael's purchases. "Stocking up for the apocalypse, huh?" she said with a laugh.
Michael tried to ignore her judgemental tone. "Better safe than sorry," he replied, hoping to convince her of the seriousness of the situation.
But she just rolled her eyes. "Come on, dude, it's just a comet. We're not gonna die. It's not like it's gonna hit us or anything."
Michael felt a surge of frustration. Did people not understand the gravity of the situation? "It's not just about the comet," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "It's about the potential aftermath. The power could go out, the roads could be damaged, there could be fires, even floods."
She just shrugged. "I guess. But it's not like it's gonna be that bad, right?"
He sighed, realizing that he couldn't change her mind. "Just ring me up, please."
As he walked back to his apartment, the weight of the supplies in his backpack made each step heavier. He knew he had to be prepared for the worst, but he couldn't help but feel like he was overreacting. Maybe the comet would barely miss them, and everything would be fine. Maybe he was just being paranoid.
But as he approached his building, he saw the two men again, waiting for him outside. It sent a shiver down his spine, realizing that Tony was serious about keeping an eye on him. He knew he had to be careful, not just about the comet but also about his own safety.
He made his way to his backyard and lifted the loose board under the porch, revealing a small mound of dirt within the hidden compartment. He placed the supplies inside, making sure to cover them with leaves and dirt to avoid detection.
As he sat there, catching his breath, he heard a noise behind him. Turning around revealed his elderly neighbor watching him once again. His expression ranged between irritated and disappointed. He waved him over.
Michael approached the old man, feeling a mix of guilt and annoyance. He had caught him once again doing something secretive, and he knew he probably thought he was still hiding drugs in the backyard. He couldn't blame him for his assumptions.
"What are you doing out here, Michael?" he asked, his tone stern.
"Just...taking care of something," he said, trying to keep his voice level.
He raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing him. "Taking care of what, exactly?"
He hesitated, not wanting to reveal his stash to him. But he knew he wouldn't give up until he had an answer. "Just checking on something important," he said, hoping that would be enough.
The old man sighed, his eyes studying him closely. "I don't want to see you go down that path. You can do better. Don't ruin it for yourself."
Michael felt a pang of guilt as the old man spoke. He seemed genuinely concerned about him, and he knew that he was letting him down by keeping secrets from him. But he couldn't bring himself to tell him the truth about his criminal past.
"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Jenkins," Michael said, trying to sound grateful. "But I'm doing okay now. I've been looking for a job, even got some responses, and I'm trying to stay out of trouble."
Mr. Jenkins looked at Michael skeptically, but didn't push the matter any further. Instead, he changed the subject. "Say, Michael, are you doing anything tonight?"
Michael shook his head, wondering where Mr. Jenkins was going with this.
"Well, I was thinking about watching the stars tonight," he said, pointing upwards. "It might be the last chance I get before the comet passes by. I used to do it with my son, before he enlisted in the military. But now, well, who knows when I'll get the chance again."
Michael considered Mr. Jenkins' offer carefully. On one hand, he could really use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, he could really use a friend. He realized that he had been so consumed with his own problems that he had forgotten about the people around him. Mr. Jenkins had always been kind to him, even when he had every reason not to be. Michael knew he owed him at least this.
"Sure, Mr. Jenkins," Michael finally said, giving him a small smile. "I'd like that."
Mr. Jenkins' face lit up, and he clapped Michael on the back. "Excellent! I'll bring a few bottles of beer, and we can watch the stars together."
As Mr. Jenkins shuffled back to his own house, Michael couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude. It wasn't often that someone reached out to him. He knew he couldn't let the opportunity slip by.
Michael returned to his apartment. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. But there was no time to rest just yet. He still had to make sure he had everything he needed for the next few days.
He sorted through his backpack, taking inventory of the supplies he had purchased earlier. He made a mental list of what else he might need, and began to gather items around his apartment. He pulled blankets from the closet, filled up water bottles and charged his phone.
As Michael sat down to eat a hastily made sandwich, he realized he was still missing something important. He needed a weapon. Just in case things got ugly. He knew it was risky, but it was better to be prepared.
He thought back to his past, to the times when he had carried a gun. He couldn't go down that path again, but he needed something else.
Michael rummaged through his drawers, trying to find something that could pass off as a weapon. There was nothing that could be used as a gun, but he did come across a kitchen knife. He held it in his hand, testing its weight. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing. He wrapped it in a towel and put it in his backpack, hoping he wouldn't need it.
Sitting down on his couch, Michael felt anxious about what was to come. The comet was getting closer, and there was no telling what could happen. Exhausted from the day's preparations, he flipped on the TV, grateful for the distraction.
The news anchors were discussing the comet, their voices filled with concern. They showed maps and projections of the comet's path, closely monitoring its every move. Michael watched for a few minutes, trying to listen to the updates, but his eyes began to droop. The sound of the news anchors' voices faded into a dull hum, and before he knew it, he was drifting off to sleep.
Jolting awake, Michael found the TV screen had already gone black. Panic set in as he realized the power had gone out. He sat up, his heart racing, trying to figure out what was happening. Scrambling for his phone, hoping to find some answers, there was no signal, no way to connect with the outside world.
Hesitating for a moment, Michael slowly made his way to the front door. His heart pounded in his chest as he approached, wondering who could be knocking at this hour. It could be Tony's men, trying to catch him off guard. Or it could be something worse. Peeking through the peephole, relieved to see Mr. Jenkins outside, he quickly unlocked the door and opened it, trying to keep his voice steady.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"What's going on?" Michael asked, his eyes scanning his face.
"Did you see the news?" Mr. Jenkins asked, his voice urgent.
Michael shook his head, feeling a sense of dread creeping up on him. "No, what happened?"
"The comet," he said, his eyes wide. "It's changed course. It's headed straight for us."
Michael's heart sank as his words sunk in. He had always known that the comet was a threat, but he had never considered the possibility of it actually hitting the planet. And now it seemed like that was exactly what was going to happen.
"What are we supposed to do?" Michael asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Jenkins looked at him solemnly. "There's not much we can do. We just have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst."
Michael nodded, feeling a sense of resignation wash over him. He didn't want to think about what was going to happen next, but he knew he had to face it head on.
Mr. Jenkins and Michael spent the next few hours gathering supplies and fortifying their homes. They worked quickly and efficiently, not wasting a moment. They knew that time was running out.
As the night wore on, the sky grew increasingly dark. The air grew thick with tension, and Michael could feel the weight of what was about to happen. They sat on Mr. Jenkins' back porch, gazing up at the massive comet as it hurtled towards Earth. It was a terrifying sight, the comet seemed to fill up the entire sky, its tail stretching out behind it like a fiery serpent.
They were quiet for a long time, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Mr. Jenkins spoke up.
"You know, Michael, there were still a lot of things I wanted to do in life. But more than anything I wanted to see my boy return from his service. But now... well, I guess it doesn't really matter anymore, does it?
Michael turned to Mr. Jenkins, surprised by the sadness in his voice. "Of course it matters, Mr. Jenkins. There's always hope left. Maybe we'll make it through this," he said optimistically.
Mr. Jenkins smiled sadly. "I appreciate your optimism, Michael, but I think we both know the odds are against us."
Michael didn't reply, instead opting to stare up at the sky once more. The comet seemed closer now, as if it was almost upon them. He imagined he could feel the heat emanating from it, could smell the acrid scent of burning rock.
As Michael looked up at the sky, his eyes were drawn to the moon, still hovering in the sky, seemingly untouched by the approaching comet. It was a strange sight, to see the moon and the comet in such close proximity.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of morbid curiosity as he watched the comet slowly approaching. It was almost beautiful in its own way, the way it glowed in the night sky, its tail stretching out behind it like a fiery ribbon.
But Michael knew that the slow approach was only a trick of the light. The comet was hurtling towards them at an incredible speed, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
As he watched, Michael couldn't help but think of all the regrets he had in his life. He had spent so much time running from his past, trying to keep his secrets hidden, that he had never really lived. And now it seemed like it was too late.
His mind raced as he thought about all the things he had wanted to do, all the places he had wanted to see. He had only just started to turn his life around, to make something of himself. And now it was all going to be taken away.
Michael felt cheated, robbed of his second chance at life. He had worked so hard to leave his past behind, to start fresh. But it had all been for nothing.
It was ironic, he couldn't help but think. The comet felt like a metaphor for his own life, hurtling towards him at an unstoppable pace, ready to destroy everything in its path.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of bitterness as he thought about all the missed opportunities, all the things he had been too afraid to do. He had let his fear rule his life, and now it was too late to change anything.
But even as he wallowed in self-pity, a sense of determination began to grow within him. He may not have been able to change the past, but he could still face his fate with his chin up.
Michael stood up from the porch and made his way over to Mr. Jenkins' shed. There, just as he remembered, was his old deck chair. He grabbed it and carried it over to a clear patch of grass. He set the chair up facing the comet, taking in its magnificent sight.
He took a deep breath and sank down into the chair, letting the comfort of the old cushion settle around him. It was a strange feeling, to be sitting here, watching the end of the world. But he had made his peace with it. He had nothing left to lose.
As Michael sat there, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. The fear and anxiety that had been plaguing him all night seemed to fade away, replaced by a strange sense of acceptance. He knew that whatever was going to happen was out of his control, and there was nothing left for him to do but watch.
Then, something happened. For a moment, he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Michael watched in disbelief as the falling star had split open like an egg, revealing a shining silver form beneath it. It had twisted around as if in pain and then, with a final shift of mass and will, had changed shape into something entirely different. Now, before his eyes, he watched its thousand-mile long body writhe and turn upon itself as it descended toward Earth, Its silvery armor throbbing in the starlight like millions of tiny stars, and Michael couldn't help but feel a deep chill pass through him.
Michael sat in stunned silence, barely able to comprehend what he was seeing. Mr. Jenkins had joined him outside, and he too was staring up at the creature in disbelief.
"It's a worm," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Michael nodded, unable to find the words to speak.
It was as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on us. The space worm was massive, stretching across the sky like a giant serpent. Its skin seemed to glow with an otherworldly silvery light and contracted in slow sinuous movements that revealed eerie black-and-white patterns.
As he watched the worm's maw grow ever closer, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. The worm's gravitational pull was immense, and he could feel the planet shaking beneath him as it drew closer.
He looked up at the sky, watching as the moon was consumed by the worm's massive maw. It was like watching a black hole in action, a cosmic force that seemed to be devouring everything in its path.
As the worm continued its approach, Michael couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. Despite the impending doom, he couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer size of the creature. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, a behemoth of darkness that seemed to be swallowing the very universe around it.
Michael couldn't help but wonder how it was possible for them all to still be alive. The worm's incredible mass should have created a gravitational field that would have torn the planet apart. And yet, here they were, still standing.
As the worm's maw grew larger and larger, filling the sky, Michael closed his eyes and braced himself for impact. He could feel the ground rumbling beneath him, and he knew that the end was near.
The last thing he thought of was that pink haired girl from the store who had laughed at him for his survival preparations. In some misguided way, she was right. He couldn't help but laugh as the utter darkness descended on him.
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When Michael opened his eyes everything was dark. The type of dark where you can't even see the tip of your nose. Was this what death looked like? Yet, he could still feel the folding deck he was sitting on, the ground beneath his feet. He somehow doubted he got to keep those in the afterlife.Michael tried to move, but his body felt heavy and unresponsive. Panic set in as he realized he was trapped, unable to move or see. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
Michael assumed that if everyone else was stuck in the same spot, then Mr. Jenkins must be close by. So why wasn't he saying anything?
"Hello?" he shouted into the void, his words bouncing back at him. But there was still no reply. "Mr. Jenkins?"
He tried to remember how he got here, what had happened after the worm had swallowed them all. But his memories were hazy, like trying to remember a dream from the night before.
Suddenly, he heard a faint sound. It was like a whisper, so quiet he could barely make it out. He strained to listen, his heart pounding in his chest.
In an instant, he found himself able to move. He quickly sprung up, trying to search for something, though the darkness remained and he was too scared to take any blind steps into the eternal void.
He bent over and grabbed the chair, as if it were a white cane for the blind. He used it to search around in the darkness, trying to find where Mr. Jenkins had been standing before. It was impossible to tell which direction he was going with his hazy memory and darkness all around him.
Michael weighed his options, and considering he was standing in the backyard with a fence encircling him, he figured it was worth the effort to push a chair around and trail himself. He began his painfully slow progress.
Slowly, he navigated the yard, feeling in front of him with the chair as he shuffled forward. He felt grass, then cobblestone, then the house’s fence which he ran into several times. Despite feeling like a hamster spinning inside a wheel, every failed turn let him map out the area. He focused on each detail and refused to get disoriented.
Yet during all of that shuffling around he has not found any sign of Mr. Jenkins. Not even a sign of Mr. Jenkins shaped lump.
After what felt like eternity of bumbling in the darkness he gave up the search for the old man. Finding his way to the porch, he seated himself at the top of the short stairs.
Something very unnatural was going on. First the high speed comet. What have the scientists said in the first news report? That they suspected its high speed was because it was launched from another solar system? Or was it another galaxy?
Did some alien civilization launch it knowing it would "hatch"? Or whatever that transformation was. Perhaps the "comet's" speed was simply a result of the worm's natural self propulsion and the comet shape some kind of an adaptation to long-distance travel and hibernation?
The gravity anomaly was another enigma. How could something large enough to swallow a planet not produce more than a mild earthquake? There should have been gigantic tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, cataclysmic effects. But yet here he was, strolling about in his neighbor's backyard. In addition, now that no light shone on Earth, shouldn't there be a significant change in temperature?
Michael sat on the porch for a few more minutes, pondering what could have happened. He couldn't make sense of any of it, but he knew he needed to find other survivors.
Slowly, he stood up and made his way to the front door of Mr. Jenkins' house. He fumbled his way inside, his hands searching for something to hold onto. His eyes must have been lying to him because for a second he could almost make out a faint outline of the room.
He stumbled over to the light switch and flicked it on, but nothing happened. The power was out, of course. He continued his search, feeling his way around the room until he found the front door. He opened it and stepped outside.
The street was eerily quiet. The darkness was absolute, and he could see nothing beyond the few feet in front of him. He knew he needed to be careful. Without the ability to see, he could easily stumble into something dangerous.
Michael slowly made his way down the street, his hands trailing along the fence that lined the sidewalk. He tried to remember the layout of the neighborhood, but the darkness made it difficult.
As he walked, he listened for any sounds of life. But there was nothing, no footsteps or voices, no sounds of cars or animals. It was as if the entire world had been swallowed up by the worm.
Michael's heart sank as he realized that he might be the only survivor. The thought was terrifying, but he refused to give up hope. He continued walking, determined to find anyone else who might have made it through. He searched house after house, calling out for anyone who might be there.
Michael's feet hurt from walking so much. His throat was dry and scratchy from calling out for anyone to hear. He had searched for hours, knocking on doors, calling out names, but there was no answer, no sign of life.
He felt a sense of desperation creeping up on him. Was this his punishment for his past mistakes? To wander the darkness alone for eternity?
In the darkness, he started to see things that weren't there. Shadows that looked like people moving in the distance, the sound of voices whispering his name.
Michael was convinced that he was in some kind of hell, destined to search the darkness alone forever. He closed his eyes and prayed for it to end, for something to happen that would give him a reason to keep going.
Just as Michael was about to give up all hope, a small speck of light appeared in the distance. He rubbed his eyes, thinking that he was hallucinating, but when he opened them again, it was still there.
The light was faint, but it was enough to give him a glimmer of hope. He quickened his pace, taking careful steps forward, his hands out in front of him in case he stumbled.
The light grew brighter slightly brighter with each step, but it still only illuminated a small area around him. He walked for what felt like hours, the light his only guide. His feet were sore and his legs felt heavy, but he refused to give up. He had to keep going, had to find out what was causing the light.
As Michael approached the source of the light, it grew brighter and brighter until it was nearly blinding. He squinted his eyes and turned his face away, shielding his eyes with his hands.
With his heart racing, Michael pushed towards the light, determined to find a way out of the darkness. It was as if the light was calling to him, urging him forward, and he couldn't resist its pull. He quickened his pace, his feet pounding against the ground as he closed in on the source of the light.
Michael extended one hand towards the source of the light, using the other to shield his eyes lest he loses his sight. He blinked. His fingers brushed against something and for a moment the feeling was indescribable. How does one describe touching liquid light? His whole body tingled as though every nerve was being caressed by a soft silken cloth.
Before Michael even had a chance to process what was happening, the light was gone, leaving him engulfed in the void once again. The next time Michael woke up, there was light everywhere.