One Night

I was there the day everything ended.

From the top of Big Ben, I watched the bombs drop one by one. From my precarious perch, I observed flowering explosions of red and orange blossoming into superheated firestorms ripping through cities.

There was nothing I could do.

The bombing lasted for days, shaking the very foundations of the city. No one knew who had dropped the first bomb, but everyone knew who sent the very last one.

I knew who had sent the last one.

There was nothing I could do.


The bomb.

The one which reshaped the Earth’s surface so drastically the Earth shifted on her axis.

The bomb which ripped through concrete and iron like paper.

The bomb which knocked even me to the ground.


After that day, nights became longer and days became shorter.

Plants died, water dried up, and great man-made towers crumbled as continents were forcibly ripped apart.

The world was ending.


Well, their world was ending.

Besides me, six other figures watched the end of mankind from various points around the world.

The original six.

Each with their own plans.

Each with their own agendas.

Each waiting to see what the others would do.

Waiting to see what I would do.


The world of mankind was ending, but ours was just beginning.

And I could do nothing to stop it.





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