Today is December 21, 2013. At least, that is what the little calendar on my checkbook register says. I'm not sure why I'm even keeping track
anymore. One days blends into the next as one long, strange nightmare.
It was just last year on this date that half the people in the western world were joking about "the end of the world", and the other half were waiting
tensely for the impending planetary doom. I have to admit, I was a fence-sitter when it cames to doomsday. I sort of knew that things wouldn't end
on that date, but I had seen so many documentaries about it that part of me was expecting to feel some kind of cosmic electrical shock. By the end of
December 21, 2012, everybody was in a jovial mood.
The poles didn't suddenly shift. The tectonic plates didn't suddenly move thousands of miles out of position. Nibiru didn't show up and cause the
earth to shake and vomit out lava and ash. The human race didn't ascend into sublime consciousness. I remember standing outside and waiting
But I felt nothing. No vibrations, no sudden awareness.
People all breathed a collective sigh of relief and though that we were all safe. I shake my head at it now, wondering how we could have been so
I remember the day it happened. My husband, who used to daytrade stocks, had noticed some very weird activity in the market. It appeared to be a
massive sell-off from investors all over the world. Oh, our government and the federal reserve covered it well enough, by buying up what was being
sold to artificially buoy up the market so as not to cause a panic. It was a Friday, I believe. We both thought things were looking strange, but
since we went bearish and bought heavy into the VIX, which is a panic index, we made a lot of money that lovely spring day.
We had a very nice weekend, feeling smug and comfortable. We went to church that Sunday, praising the Lord for our good fortune. I think back to
that day and realize that was the last day of the American Empire. We must have been asleep not to see it.
Monday morning came. I had planned to sleep in, but my husband woke me up. I was cranky and said that, whatever he wanted to tell me could wait
until I was done sleeping. He said, "I don't think so, Honey. Something is very wrong. The stock market is closed, and the financial news channels
are telling us that the value of the American dollar has lost over 75% of its value." His voice shook as he said this. I sat up in bed and let this
information sink in.
My first thought is, we're ruined. All our money was in an online investment account, which was now worth diddly squat. Then I thought, perhaps this
is a temporary glitch, and it will work itself out. We sat glued to the television all day as scenes of panic and riots ensued. People ran to their
banks, but all the doors were locked, and there was a heavy police presence to protect these venerable financial institutions from the intense anger
of the population, most of who were now penniless. Stores also closed up, because the prices for things like a loaf of bread went from $2 to $15 or
higher, and people were insane with fear. Looting, destruction, fires, killings.....it was a madhouse as all hell broke loose.
As the days wore on, we could see that this wasn't a "glitch", this was the way it now was. When the bills came due, we could barely pay them that
first month. By the time the month after came, we couldn't pay them, so our electricity was shut off. Since we live out in the country, no
electricity meant no well water. I had saved water in old jugs, but that only goes so far. Thank goodness one of the farmers out here had an extra
windmill, and helped us rig it up so we could at least have some fresh water.
It was a bit uncomfortable as summer came on and we had no air conditioning, but since I had stored a great deal of canned food, we weren't starving.
However, our isolation meant that we had no idea what was going on. We had a little radio that ran on batteries, but none of the local stations were
broadcasting. We became cut off. We didn't dare drive our truck, since we couldn't buy gas for it. All we knew was, America had spiraled into
hyperinflation, millions of people were starving and homeless, and quite a few were ending up in those happy little FEMA camps. Many went in there,
and were never heard from again.
Occasionally we would have a caravan of people that came by, some with ingenious methods of getting around. Bicycles with trailers behind them,
horses, donkeys, a few dog sled teams pulling small wagons, and the occasional lucky family with vehicles that used bio fuel. We would stop them and
they would tell us of their exodus out of the cities. We let a few camp out and get some fresh water. I had purchased heirloom seeds a few years
prior, never thinking that I would actually use them, but I was growing a garden, so I shared the produce we had. It was better than letting it rot,
since I didn't have refrigeration, and I had meant to learn to can things, but never got around to it.
We're living without the things we had grown up with and always expected to be there. We try to think of ways to make money, but since all the
stragglers have is useless old American currency, we're sort of stuck out here in limbo. We're afraid to leave, because where would we go at our age?
Who would hire two old people? So we stay and try to eek out a living from the land. One of the farmers gave us a chicken about six months ago, so
we at least have eggs, but oh how I miss meat.
I have a large library, so we do a lot of reading. I also do a lot of thinking, as I survey the lone landscape, and imagine the cities, desolate with
ruin, starvation, and insanity.
It seems that we have been asleep for decades, while the criminal banksters robbed us blind. We allowed them to print unlimited amounts of money,
which caused the initial disaster. Fort Knox is empty. Unlike the Great Depression, we had foreign investors who were unable to be paid back, so we
had to let them take other things in kind: Our most precious possessions. Our national parks, monuments, museums, treasures that can never be gotten
back. The Chinese now own our ports of call, and most of the intermountain west. They've built some fancy cities there, heavily fenced off and
guarded, or course. Most of our farmland has gone to them, as well as multinational corporations who grow the food and ship it somewhere else.
Soon we will be put off our property, as we cannot pay the sky-high taxes on the land we once owned free and clear. I don't know what we'll do
On this day, December 21, 2013, I've cried all the tears I had in me. Our food supplies are terribly low. I try not to think of it as I shiver in
front of a makeshift wood stove which is burning the remnants of the abandoned house that used to be on the next acre. My husband and I talk in
hushed tones about perhaps ending it all in a murder-suicide, quickly and painlessly with the shotgun we have hidden. It seems like the coward's way
out, but as each day grinds on, I am ashamed to admit, it is starting to sound like a relief, instead of a sin.
We all existed in a beautiful dream of plenty, and while we dreamed, the empire burned.
And then we woke up.
edit on 1-12-2012 by FissionSurplus because: spelling