DISCLAIMER: This is my first time writing in the first person, so keep that in mind while you read it. I hope it doesn't affect my judgment.

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This story pertains to the belief that on December 21, 2012, the world will come to an end. I will not announce just how it ends, though, that is up to me

This story contains:

-Mild Sarcastic Humor
-Mild Descriptive Violence
-Moderate Suggestive Violence
-The End of the World

"With Christmas just around the corner, it goes without saying that the minds of its celebrants are running a mile a minute trying to finish up their lists, and checking them twice. And while this annual tradition of holiday chaos passively occurs in our midst, there are a select few that have other things on their minds; sinister things."

I couldn’t help but overhear the static-filled Local Evening News broadcast although I was quite busy in the other room, planning out the Christmas dinner, as well as family events. What a joyous time of year this is, as it is every year, but there was something on my mind other than holiday cheer; a paranoia implanted into my psyche like a virus roosting within a CPU, silently waiting for the time to strike. The sound of the TV faded in and out as the snow-like fuzz occasionally disrupted its signal. To be honest, I wasn’t listening very attentively. The passing years have aged me tremendously, leaving me mentally weak and exhausted, causing politics, global antipathy, or whatever else the corporately owned media outlet throws out to the public like a spewing sick animal, to fall victim to my growing apathy.

"These humbugs have reportedly been storming the streets of every major city across the United States, stretching from San Diego to Washington, chanting lyrics pertaining to the terrifying legend of the Mayan calender and its predictions. Riots have broken out in some cities with citizens raiding electronic stores, as well as local groceries, and taking as much as their paranoid hands can carry. Some have reportedly hauled trucks full of stolen goods."

What is the world coming to? In every generation there are lunatics that believe that the world is going to end, so why is this time different? I kept thinking that in hopes to calm my own paranoia, but alas my attempts are in vain. Still, I keep my composure for my child’s sake, my impetuous 9-year old son Gabriel, named after Saint Gabriel from the Christian faith. Now, I haven’t been a church going man since my wife died of Leukemia a few years ago, but when I look into the beautiful blue eyes that Gabriel’s mother gave to him, I cannot help but feel as though he is an angel; a guardian angel sent from the heavens to keep me sane and away from wits end.

"We now go live to Trisha Beckler on scene in snowy Detroit, Michigan -- Trisha, tell us, what have you seen happening in the streets of the Motor City as of late?"

"Well Tom, as you can see behind me.." young Trisha Beckler, junior correspondent for the Evening News, stands aside slightly to show the scene behind her, "..the streets are filled with people with torches and posters reading ’the end has come.’" She steps back into the camera’s focus, "there have been reports that the Canadian Government has closed off the bridge from Detroit to Ontario earlier today when the chaos began to escalate. It is clear that they do not want its citizens to follow suit, if you will --"

The 20" screen goes black as I casually press the ’TV off’ button on the remote control, "Time for bed, Sport. Santa wants you to work on going to bed a little earlier this year so that you don’t attempt to capture him like you failed to do last year." A slight chuckle ushered out, masked by a calm breath.

"But daaad!"

"But nothing. You march your little butt upstairs and get ready for bed." He sucks his front teeth like a disgusted teenager and begins to head up to his room, feeling the need to stomp his little feet progressively harder with each step that passes. When he is out of sight, I yell up to him in a pseudo-serious tone, "And don’t let me catch you sneaking down here!" He slams his door with a thunderous bang which shakes the walls of our old house. Knowing that he wasn’t listening, I bark out yet another order, as parents normally do, "Don’t forget to brush your teeth! I know you hardly have any, but don’t let that discourage you none!"

I make my way toward the vintage couch that looks like it came out of a Betty Boop cartoon, but something stops me. I am frozen in place, unable to summon the strength to push forward, yet I could move every limb above my waist just fine. "What the hell..?" I uttered quietly as I struggled to lift my right leg; it hardly moved, as if I were stuck in a puddle of quicksand. Looking around, I try to figure out what was wrong with me, then finally my strength returned with a hard tumble toward the floor. "God da-" My curse was drowned out by a loud crashing sound. Without thinking, I rush upstairs to investigate.

When I reach my son’s bedroom door, I place my ear up to it for a reason unbeknownst to me; I listen for any sound, but I hear nothing. A cold shiver crawled up my spine, an all too human chill. Fearing the worst, I open the door slowly, the sound of squeaky hinges echoing. I take a slight peek into the room, only to find my boy curled into his covers, turned toward the window on the opposite side of the room. With a smile on my face, I slowly close the door. The old door clicks, and my heart skips a beat. Now, I don’t believe in omens, but this was starting to worry me some.

I move slowly but surely down the stairs and into the living room where I had my little paralysis episode not minutes ago. With the crash still on my mind, I move toward the closet, grab my winter coat and hat, and set off toward the front door. When I open it, I enter the threshold of a winter wonderland; snow as far as the eye could see; blankets of white goodness covering every sidewalk, every lawn, and every road down my street. I take my first step into the cold, white blanket with a crunch, closing the front door behind me. I slowly and wistfully make my way toward my pick-up truck, so wondrously installed with a bumper shovel for navigating through the snowy chaos.

I finally make it into the chilling driver’s seat, mission accomplished right? Wrong. I still had to suffer through the wondrous excitement of starting the damn thing up. With a whim and a prayer, I stick a rusty key into the ignition and turn it clockwise. The engine fights to start up, but fails. That’s once. Again, I close my eyes and turn the key; the 1982 pistons rush to keep momentum, but never succeed. That’s twice. "Let’s just hope the third time is my charm!" I turn the key one final time.

Success! The old hunk-of-junk started up with a thunderous roar. With all my excitement, I completely pushed out my worries prior to entering the vehicle, but they soon would return. I turn the analog on the radio to the nighest AM station; I never was too fond of the FM radio with the damn Hip-Hop music and its vulgar references to sex culture and drugs. I reach well-known news station, 1110 AM, a local current events talk show, stationed in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

"..[static]..gerous situation, indee..[static].."

"C’mon!" I pound the dashboard impatiently in an attempt to savior the signal. That always seems to work out well.

"..[static]..there have been reports of temporary power surges throughout the Detroit Metropolitan area, as well as New York and Washington...[static]..ts unknown if it is some sort of terrorist attack, but..[static].."

With a final pound on the dashboard, the signal completely went out. Without a second thought, I change gear into reverse, but the truck power flickered as if it were running on a circuit in my house. The slight chill ran up my spine once more. Without understanding why, I avert my gaze from my garage door to the digital clock I recently installed on the dashboard. It read ’11:10 PM.’ My heart began to race as my thoughts quickly turned to my son, Gabriel. Once I looked up at his window, I saw he was looking out to me with a blank stare and his tiny right palm slowly sliding down the glass. It seemed to last for minutes, but it was only a couple of seconds. Suddenly, a huge flash rushed from the sky, masking my view with an intense white light. I didn’t have time to react. By the time I knew what happened, it turned completely black, and I had zero feeling remaining.

The time was 11:11 PM.

: : : : : :

No one saw it coming, there was no way they could. It happened so suddenly and ended so quickly, there was zero time to react. Still, I could remember the searing pain of my flesh boiling which seemed to last for hours, but it was less than a split second. Then, it all ended. Billions of cries silenced before they could utter out in agony. My son...my poor son, was the last image in my head. My only regret was that I wasn’t able to tell him that he was the one whom saved my life when my wife died. Oh the irony.

Little did any of us know, there was a chaotic excitement going on somewhere in the universe; a powerful phenomenon called Gamma-ray burst, or GRB. It is the result of an extremely energetic explosion in a distant star or galaxy. We have evaded them so many times in our planet’s past, but I guess our time had come. And when it came, the lights when out in an instant.

[edit on 8-8-2009 by Bushido Kanji]

THE END

This thread is now open to feedback if you have any I'd love to see what you guys think of my story!

Thank you for reading and good luck to all other contestants!

Thank you for your feedback.

I really do appreciate the constructive criticism. My writing is not perfect, I know, but as the disclaimer states in the initial post: this is my first time writing in first person. So there will be many mistakes, naturally.

It helps to have an atmosphere of educated writers to help me along with new styles of writing

Good thing you brought this to my attention early on, otherwise it would have never been changed!

Kudos!

I'll get on it ASAP.

[edit on 9-8-2009 by Bushido Kanji]

I guess I am stuck with what is written. Oh well, I didn't actual think I would get first place on my first try anyway

I had fun writing it though, and should be the main reason people write for the thrill of it.


Winning is good too

Very good story. And being the first one you have written in first person, you did a fairly good job. Good luck in the contest!

reminded me of I am legend where will smith pulled the pin out of the grenade to kill all the zombies.


Except people lived after that.

I thought it was a great attempt at writing in the first person. Keep up the good work my friend and you'll have perfected it in no time at all.

S & F for you and I hope you do well in the contest.