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On the first day after the end of the world, we lost the ability to create life.
The general populace was worried, frightened of the loss of something so vital to the continuation of life. All over the world, pregnant women miscarried or gave birth to stillborn babies. It was thought to have been a virus, at first. However, both scientists and doctors could not find anything wrong with anyone they tested. People remained biologically sound, but the life would just not enter the bodies of the babies. This was true even for animals.
After a while, people stopped caring for the repercussions this held, and resorted to having intercourse just for the pleasure. Bans were imposed by the government, and by the different religious groups.
They were ignored.
The people who used to proclaim the end of the world being near doubled their efforts to make others notice what they have already; the world was ending, and the end is almost there.
They were wrong. The end had passed, and left them.
People started to use up all of their material possessions for themselves, seeing that there were going to be no new generations ahead. Others preached moderation, thinking that this was only a one-time event.
The preachers were wrong. There will be nothing afterwards.
Seven days after the end of the world, we had completely lost the ability to sense pleasure.
It was a gradual change, one that many had wanted to ignore.
Colors once bright and vivid became dull and faded. Light colors blended into white, while dark colors blended into black. People began to see in black and white alone.
Scents once strong became sour, and dimmed. No matter how much perfume one wore, it was never enough to even be sensed. People began taking less and less baths once they realized that nobody can smell them, since everyone and everything smelled the same.
Music, from the upbeat twittering of birds to the rumbling of cars, and even to others’ voices, became single pitched, varying only in loudness. Even with voice identification instruments, individual persons could not be identified.
Intercourse became a thing of punishment instead of pleasure. Everyone stopped doing it, since there was no use for it any longer.
Dreams and hopes just disappeared. And even memories were not spared. They became tainted with the outlook of the present, and memories of pleasurable things were forgotten or changed into pain-bringing ones.
There was nothing to look forward to, and nothing to look back to.
The scientists could do nothing. Most of them have lost their fields of study, and the remaining ones could not bring themselves to care.
Combined with the loss of the ability to make new life, this loss broke many of the remaining people’s spirits. Mass suicides were in the rage, and many, many people died over the next few days. The scientists were one of the first to conduct the mass suicides.
They were the lucky ones.
Ten days into the end of the world, we lost the ability to die.
The first ones who found it out were a group in America who were doing a mass suicide that day. They have all said their prayers and have already pulled the triggers of their guns.
The sound of two thousand agonized screams shocked many of the onlookers, if only for the sheer volume of it.
The ability to die may have been lost; but the ability to feel pain was still there. A cycle of fainting from the pain, then waking, then fainting again, started. Few have learned to tolerate the pain; of them some have returned to their lives, and the others have degenerated into a walking sleep state — their brains having been irreparably damaged.
The scientists are dead. They could not help us, nor share in our pain.
Many of the people could not take this new revelation. Since they could not kill themselves, or even die, in the traditional manner, they decided to completely destroy their bodies.
They failed. They are still here.
I can hear their voices even now, screaming, screeching in an eternal lament of agony.
Today is the fiftieth day after the end of the world.
I have written this to say goodbye to the world that has given me much, and to curse the being that had taken it all away.
In a few moments, I would seal myself into the path the others took, and soon, I will join them in their – our – eternal lament.
Boom.
The world has not gone out in a bang, but with a whimper.
- by Alex Caruso |
- Fiction
- | Submitted on 03/07/2009 |
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- Title: After the End of the World
- Artist: Alex Caruso
- Description: A short story speculating about how the world shall end.
- Date: 03/07/2009
- Tags: after world postapocalyptic apocalypse theend
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Comments (2 Comments)
- insanlly yours - 03/13/2009
- That was deep in it's own way. Most people wouldn't think about the future in fear of death and unplesantness but you got past that barrier. good jod.
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- Agrikar the Hidden - 03/11/2009
- Haha that was surprisingly awesome. You broke tense like twice, near the beginning and near the end, I believe, and worded something funny every now and then, but the content that was there, it was great. The final line was *great*. Not with a bang, but a whimper razz Very nice. A little editing and it'll be even better.
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