the end of the world

Benny smelled the sulfur shortly before he met Samantha.

Two minutes before Hell opened up in Central Park, he had been leafing through the “7 Records for a Dollar” bin outside Fat Terry’s Music Emporium, looking for a rare Velvet Underground .45. He had been skipping his philosophy class when the sky turned black and the rivers ran thick with blood. Moments before his heart burst inside his chest like an aerosol can in a fire, he paused on the idea of the world ending on a Thursday.

But we’ve skipped too far ahead. Now his thick brown hair stuck to his forehead, and he undid the top button on his ironic polyester shirt (as the temperature had suddenly risen 10 degrees). An uneasiness set into his brow and gut; he sensed a loss of innocence in the air. For the duration of his newly onset anxiety, the sky began to darken, & consequently his hopes of making it back to his dorm in time for Friends did too. Where do I go from here? he thought, what have I done? and his green Puma’s began to pump the ground, quickly heading where they could only logically assume was away from certain destruction.

He had made it four and half steps before Samantha appeared muddled through the misery of smoke and panicked screams. She had red hair and sweat pants on, and like Benny (and the other 6 billion people on earth), was running nowhere. He recessed his alarm as they stopped abruptly to consider each other. Samantha had been doing laundry when she felt the earth quake beneath her feet. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.


It was love at first sight.


It was the end of the world.


It had been all of thirty seconds that time had stopped for the two accidental lovers, and in that time a disembodied voice chanting in an archaic language rang through the sky, and people dropped to their knees to pray amid ash and fire and death. The raptured ones approached the sky, naked, pumping their fists. Only mildly distracted by the chaos, Benny and Samantha cautiously approached each other until they were a mere five inches apart, and he reached for her hand. Instead of fear he felt calm; instead of sulfur she smelled his cheap cologne.

“It’s too bad,” she finally said, after yet another excruciating minute of staring.

“Not really,” he replied, and she knew exactly what he meant.

Two lovers in the midst of pandemonium. They lie down, facing one another on the pavement, coming to terms with the melancholy truth, and at the same time overcome by joy; staying still, with no reason to move. “I’ve found a reason to live, to die. To lie among chaotic rubble and sleep soundly.” He thought. “Fuck, I dominate at poetry. I should write that dow-oh......"

The fire began to rain harder, pounding the pavement, jumping at those still running. The disembodied voice grew unbearably loud, the praying and wails of those around them shrieked in pain and trepidation. Even 2 miles north of the hole to Hell, the wave of heat still struck the couple and singed their eyelashes. Now, without regret, they lie within the others’ gaze and felt complete and tranquil.

These were their Revelations. Love even vanquished death; it triumphed over fear and mercy.

“Thank you,” he shouted. The only other thing he would ever say to Samantha was: “I’ve never done anything like this.” He smiled through the mayhem.

They lay, burning, and melting among screams and sautéing flesh. “You are beautiful,” he thought, staring at her now quite literally flaming red hair and smoldering face, and she smiled. They were still only mildly concerned with the fact that they only had x-allotted time left. As long as they were together. He rested his forehead on hers, and they brought their knees together.

One minute later, all that was left of the human race were charred remains of 6 billion men and women. Two of them, on the northern tip of the island of what was once known as New York, lay together, their skin fused with heat, clothes burned off, and forming a perfect, indestructible diamond.