The World Ends…It’s Relationship
Her name would not translate to English, or any language but their own for that matter but she was the most beautiful women in her tribe. A child possibly by the standards of the civilized world but in her world she was a mother, a wife, a priestess; and so much more than that.
Her earlobes hung down to her jaw line from carrying the weighted stones since the time of her birth, her skin was the color of liquid milk chocolate. She sat in the grass weaving the basket that, in the traditional way, would take her several months to complete and thought about things as she worked.
Her husband was a skilled hunter, respected neighbor, patient father and tender lover. He was out with the other men of the village as that morning wild boar was said to have been seen in the lush forests of their tropical valley. She thought about him and wished for their safe return. Tonight, with luck, their village would feast on the bounty.
She had bore him 8 children and she watched the young ones play as she weaved. They were down by the little stream than ran on the edge of the village and she laughed out loud when remembering what her middle daughter had said that morning at breakfast. The older ones were out doing the many chores required to maintain their simple lives. Cutting back overgrown trails, chopping down the hard trees for the good long fire they would need for this evening, bringing up water for cooking and washing. Her second son had gone on his first hunt this morning with his father and that pleased her. The correct passing of time always pleased her and soon her first daughter would begin to learn the weaving ways her own fingers followed now almost without thought.
She thought of all these things as she sat in the cool midday air and worked.
Suddenly a noise blasted down from the sky. A roar of uncountable thunders. Her first thought when she looked up into the sky was that the sun was falling. But it is still light she thought so that is impossible. A ball of red steaming fire as big as a mountain passed by high overhead, higher up than the air even; a thick tail of orange fire trailed behind it. The whole of the village exploded with shouts and pointing as women and children rushed from their places to gather and wonder at this curious thing. They shouted curses at it and held their hands over their ears to dull the noise.
****
Five minutes and eight thousand miles later Becky Slayton sat on her porch drinking a late afternoon cocktail with her neighbor. They talked as housewives do on the silliness of their husbands and children; they gossiped and giggled and Becky wondered aloud, with the sun on her face, what she should make for dinner.
The streaking mountain of fire appeared as if from nowhere, lower than before now and within the moment of a breath exploded into the ground several hundred miles away.
Becky’s last thought was a roast would be good as her body was turned into ash.
The young village mother, wife and priestess was fixing a bad loop in her weave when the streaking wave of heat, fire and a wind of unspeakable fury rolled up from half a world away and melted her skin from her bones as her lush forested valley exploded into nothing.
***
Two days earlier all the worlds civilized nations had finally come together as one. At first they had argued how this could have been missed. All the eyes constantly lurking through the heavens and not one person had seen it? But then the calculations were made, the emotionless truth of science prevailed and it didn’t matter then; the why’s or who’s. They deemed it a planet killer and the massive scope of the world suddenly became tiny and weak when faced with the infinite coincidences of an infinite universe.
Nothing could be done, there was no halting time so they decided why bother. Let the people live while they could.
****
Twelve thousand years in the blink of an eye and single ray of light broke through the dust covered planet…
Tags: Fiction, flash fiction
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