The End - Visions of Apocalypse

“Wait for what? A divine miracle?”

“Yes. Why activate it until we absolutely must?”

They waited. The tension grew as the object approached the sun.

“It must be done now.”

“A moment longer.” Only a sliver of sunlight remained, darkness falling fast.

“By the time we see the impact it could already be too late!”

It slowly created an eclipse, turning daytime into night. Then it happened; an explosion lit up the darkness, flames spreading around the black silhouette.

“May God have mercy on us.” Werner flicked the switch.

* * *

June 16th, 2012

Johnathan Gibbs awoke from a dream. A dream that felt so real, yet so wonderful that it had to be impossible: He dreamt he had a wife, a home that they had bought together, and two wonderful children. He was holding them in his arms. The last thing he remembered was seeing a bright fire illuminating the sky, and telling his wife he loved her more than anything.

We’ll always be together, she said. Even in the hereafter.

But the bed he woke up in was not theirs. This was his old apartment; seventh story of the Elmont building, 3rd Street. He shook the sleep out of his head. The memories didn’t fade, didn’t dissolve like most dreams do. He remembered her name; Kara. Their kids, Elena and Johnathan Jr. Their address, 45 Grand Oak Drive. Aluminium sidings painted powder blue, white shutters on the windows. A two car garage. Home.

It was real. He was sure. And yet he was here, in the cramped apartment from his bleak past. He got out of bed, went into the washroom and looked at himself in the mirror. His reflection showed a man he had long forgotten; a young man, thin and frail, pale and sickly looking. A man with many burdens to bear.

This isn’t real, he thought. It can’t be.

* * *

He ran up Grand Oak Drive, struggling for breath. He reached number 45. It hardly looked like his house; the shutters were gone. The sidings were a faded white. Someone else’s car was parked in the driveway. Panicking, he threw open the front door and barged in. “Kara?”

There was an elderly man sitting in the living room. He stared fearfully at John.

“Kara! Kara where are you?”

“Get out!” The man yelled.

“This is my house!” John screamed back at him.

“Get out or I’ll call the police!”

This must be hell, John thought. I’m dead and I’m in hell.

* * *

June 21st, 2012

They had dressed him in the same blue attire as every other patient, and gave him sedatives. He felt like a zombie; his eyes were in a distant place, his head swaying back and forth lazily. John wanted to sleep, wanted to be left alone. But they wouldn’t leave him be.

He was escorted to the psychiatrist’s office and seated in front of the doctor’s desk. “How are you feeling today, Mr. Gibbs?” he was asked. John just shook his head, unable to find the will to even speak. “You have a visitor,” the doctor said. Someone entered the room.

“It’s always something, isn’t John?” A stern voice addressed him. A chill ran up his spine. John slowly raised his head, his eyes confirming his worst fear. There was his father, with that condescending look John remembered so well. “You broke into an elderly man’s house and assaulted him. For Christ’s sake, kid, when are you gonna grow a brain?”

John laughed meekly.

The old man became very angry. “Is something funny, John?”

“My father died years ago,” he said. “He died and I was happier for it.”

“Cut the crap, John, you’re not—”

“Fuck you, whoever you are. Even if you really are my dad.”

“You’ve gone completely backwards, kid. Enough is enough. This is your problem, you deal with it. I’m done fixing your mistakes.” The old man turned and walked away.

“I watched them lower you into the ground!” John yelled. “Best day of my life!”

* * *

December 9th, 2014

Time had passed, more time than John cared to count. He spent his days staring at the white walls of his room and watching the seasons pass by through his window. He spent his nights talking to Kara in his head, imagining that she was always there with him like she promised she would be.

We’ll always be together.

Maybe he really had lost his mind. Everything had seemed so perfect, like a miracle. Maybe his perfect life had just been a wishful fantasy. Everyone else seemed to think so.

It was time to let go, time to free himself from his pain. He was ready.

He had managed to steal a utility knife from the janitor’s storage room early in the day, carrying it in his waistband until they locked him back in his room that night. He sat on the floor, staring at the dull blade. He thought it over, knowing deep down that this was the only option left for him.