Hey all, this is just a small piece of flash fiction I penned in my notebook some time ago. Not much, but just wanted to showcase some writing. 🙂 This one is called 2012.
We never saw the apocalypse grip the cool December night; though we drank expensive wine and watched the countdowns bright on our television sets. A ball was dropping, but not for New Years; instead we waited for the end to rip us away from stubborn realities. Twenty of us sat on my brother’s deck that stuck out over the urban streets below us, drinking and laughing and cheering for the biggest event of our lives. We sat bundled, our eyes focused on the orange skies of the winter night. The end never came.
Mammoth solar flares never consumed the Earth in a fiery blaze of damnation; a mysterious planet never met our orbit or the sun’s for that matter; little green men in saucers never broke through our air space and enslaved the massed. The Earth never tore in two and the super volcanoes sat dormant; we never saw tsunamis consume the coasts or a plague diminish our booming populations. I never saw a sea of meteors puncture her crust, or a wave of dust shroud the world from the sun.
The TVs displayed countdowns to midnight, the broad casters laughed and sipped beers on set. Teenagers and young folks of all shapes crowded the streets smoking and cherishing the remaining time they had. The children of America danced and drank to song of the decade, the streets now overflowing with adolescent screams. Police forces formed checkpoints and met the protestors with heavy equipment and automatic rifles. They assembled on the outskirt of the small town, on this winter night and stood stone-faced as oblivion crept closer.
Peace subsided as glass broke free from their panes showering the reckless peoples in the streets. Molotov cocktails burned encompassing the winter streets in shrill, red light. Buildings were swallowed by glorious waves of fire; people screaming with the sudden blight. The police halted the arsonists resulting in heavy-handed punishments. I sat on the deck and watched the violence ensue on the cold streets; watched as fear and paranoia consumed a once strong people; I watched as once innocent men now broke store windows and holstered TVs and computers on their shoulders.
Smoke from nylon flags clouded the now hot city streets, like a step into a dismal nightmare. The stink of sex and marijuana mixed with the fumes of fire and we gagged, as the people below became animals. They screamed and hollered as the televisions and radios egged on the ruckus, steadily counting down until our doom. Fantasies and fetishes swelled to possibilities as the young and old alike fled into the streets and watched the skies, sure as to approaching tides. 3, 2,1.
12:01 came and went and the chaos in the streets dwindled then ceased as the people waited for annihilation. However, it never came; not 12:02, not ever that day. The women and men stood with labored breaths, hands stained with soot, and eyes wet and full as the disobedient lay dead on the floor (a memento of the police force). Yet at that moment, police stood beside rioters, detectives beside cons and young beside old; they looked to each other and realized how damned they truly were.