Epidemic

Shaz walked along the path, unaffected, alive, aware and courteous to the others around him. He was different, not exactly the same, but that didn’t matter as he was mostly ignored by each and every single one of them. Born different, hardly even noticed other than the ever present digitally created social circles, he remained a joyful, adventurous, singular creation within his world.

He’d been born into the time of the great epidemic, the changes now apparent to the few that looked above and beyond their digital artefacts. He continued his journey, avoiding the snail-paced people occupying various sections of the walkway. He was always first, to every single event, destination or planned online visit. He smiled, hands feeling warm within his thick winter jacket, his day simply moving with ease.

His parents were also different, to a point, resisting most of the temptations that arrived with the illness that gripped society. They had mobile phones, computers, tablets and electronic watches, but somehow placed the temptation aside for their actual living daily lives. Shaz, on the other hand, arrived into the world with a rare, complicated, vision displacement shift. He could see the world around him, as clear as day, with only the electronic displays appearing as blurred objects. The family had sought help, enquired for years, with no single establishment realistically caring. The refresh, the moving screens that displayed all of their technicolour splendour and information, causing him headaches as well as motion sickness.

It was odd for his parents, at first. Teaching methods had changed since they were young, with all modern curriculum being presented over electronic formats. Shaz didn’t mind as he’d eventually come to understand the world through learned eyes. The scholars of old, through old fashioned text booklets, expressing their wisdom with clarity and ease. He’d eventually discovered the wonders of text to speech but sadly, found the newfound teachings to be tainted with political ideals and endgames.

In School, the silence of each class, was a daunting event for a mind as young as his. He would read his book, discovering adventures as well as long lost forgotten places, while his friends simply shared nothing from his world. The divides formed, the ideals separated, with his eyes witnessing the intolerance and segregation of a world lived online. The more he touched the world around him, brushed against the very earth they all stood upon, he witnessed the great depressive state encompass all of them. Each of his friends, grasping, aching, caught within the ever present need to feel instant justification.

He wanted to say something, to express more and to help them as much as he could, but the eventful realisation that a digitally encompassed mind would never survive away from the stimulus of constantly searching for barren justification, silenced him. There would never be a saviour, the further they all stepped away from their own lives, to live a life online. He was present, in the moment, enjoying the very life in front of his own eyes. Even when eating, when surrounded by friends, they would be experiencing a disconnected online conversation with others.

The loneliness bothered him, pressing against his heart, until he released himself from the burden of caring for others than didn’t even care for themselves. The transitory, evaporated, emotionally vacuous nature of it all, stinging him to let go of the corpses surrounding him. Within a second, a moment’s release of barren connectivity, he’d smiled as he left them to their own closed devices. He’d let go of his parents’ memory, the years previous, his tears being filled with the warmth of a world filled with nature and tranquillity. He’d found peace through the remembered words of his own Mother, with his Father’s unfaltering wisdom raising him through the differences of the very basic function of his eyesight and more.

His smile grew, the feelings of freedom within embracing his aura, warming his very heart that wished for more. He already knew the answer to the question he’d not even asked himself. He’d already found the stability that each of his friends wished for upon each day. They’d whine, exclaiming their despondent notions, whilst making no realistic change to enable the chance of improving. Each outcome, the fault of another. Each upset, the biggest drama of the day. Any missed clicks and likes, becoming the abandonment living within their very dying hearts and souls.

Shaz continued to walk through the people standing around him. Each clasping their chosen wireless heart within their weak, chilled, shaking hands. The disease, the entrapment of a soft screaming consciousness, already written into their eyes and minds. This epidemic, freely and willingly embraced by all.

Everything

Daniel closed the hotel door, softly, as to not disturb any other residents. He was here, again, this type of place, the setting and location that was starting to tire him. For once, if he was honest with himself, he’d prefer to take things slowly. He looked at her legs, as she placed her small handbag onto the side table, realising that some things were always going to happen, no matter the intention or idiotic notions within his head.

Flesh. Skin. The enticing quandary to which he, obviously, found himself over and over again. To have, to hold, to forsake the ritual of actually getting to know someone, presented itself once more. He calmly walked along the small corridor, with the bed sitting slightly to his right side. A few seconds moved and she appeared, from the bathroom, resting onto the edge of the bed. She stretched her legs out in front of him, crossed, as she looked at him with a smile. She knew exactly what she was doing, especially after the hours of conversation over the few dates.

He knew what the smile meant. It asked him, commanded him, teased his resolve and injected the naughtiest of thoughts into his head. He really, really did want her. He placed himself against the small desk, intended for a suitable laptop, immediately across from the bed. Looking at her, remembering the conversations they’d just had, he realised that she could actually be someone that he’d want more from. A strange notion, seeing as his emotional state usually involved feeling next to nothing.

They’d talked, for hours, the hands of the clock spinning. She’d flirted, expressing her intent, which become especially obvious as they’d kissed when scaling the 10 floors within a small lift. She felt right, her lips upon his, his arms holding her close. He had to take this slow. No more would he allow someone that he actually liked, to entice him into a situation that moved far too fast. She stood up from the bed, with her amazing smile, as she stepped forward. She pressed herself against him, hip to hip, his body immediately asking for him to respond. It would be easy, it would be an obvious solution, to simply have her. Take her. To feel every single part of her body against his.

He denied such notions. This would not, could not, simply be the way forward. Daniel kissed her, his soft lips moving with ease, across hers. He loved soft kissing, expressive kissing, the moments meaning more than some thirst filled, heavy breathing episode. There’d be time for that later, if there were to be such a time.

“What do you want?” he asked after removing his lips from hers, as his eyes softened.

“I think that’s obvious!” she replied, running her hands up the side of his thighs.

“No, not that. What do you really, really want?”

She lowered her head slightly, her smile escaping for the smallest of seconds. Daniel did not expect an honest answer, as it was quite a vague question, with many possible replies. She was perceptive, intelligent, quirky, despite her own opinion of herself being beautifully modest. Her smile returned, knowing, realising, exactly what he meant by asking such a question.

“Everything!” she said, with her voice almost breaking at the absolute weight removed from her heart, for the smallest of seconds.

Daniel smiled. He smiled the biggest smile he could find.

“Then let’s have everything!”

He placed an arm around her back, the other lifting her as he moved to the bed. Gently, he lowered her onto her back and kissed her. This time, it was with increased feeling, an earnest kiss, a wanting kiss that exclaimed his thoughts and motivations. He stopped, moving from the bed, as he turned to slowly run his fingers up her beautifully presented legs. She moved her head to the side, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands against her skin. He wanted her, with every single part of his body as well as, possibly, his connective emotions. He would never fall for anyone with ease, let alone the woman in front of him, which meant that he needed to hear her answer. He, simply, protectively, would not allow such a thing to happen.

As he moved past her knees, he slowed, testing, teasing, asking for her permission to continue with pure silence. His hands moved under her dress, slowing, knowing exactly what he wanted to do. She looked into his eyes, her red lips wanting him to kiss her again. He found the lingerie, his fingers gently pulling downward, away from her. A second moved as they kept eye contact.

Removed, free, he denied himself the pleasure of doing what his body screamed for. Instead, he followed a different path, as he placed his head between her legs and joined his lips to hers. Tasting, kissing, he teased. He listened to her expressive sounds, as her body responded to the feeling being presented with his kisses. Each one, each touch, asking her to enjoy every single second. He slowed his teasing, he relaxed his movements, as he knew exactly what he had to do.

Slowly, immediately, he found her with the tip of his tongue. With the softest, slowest movement, he gently moved up and down. He watched as she grasped the bed sheets, her hips ever so slightly moving with the flow of his touch. Her breathing, now shallow, could be heard over her obvious satisfaction.

He continued with the movements, the rhythm, the tempo, being kept so very, very controlled. Barely touching her, up, then down, he could feel her rising pleasure as the seconds vanished. Again and again, he moved over her, against her, just barely touching. The tease within the meaning, ensuring that she reached that certain place. Her hips raised ever so slightly from the bed, as her stomach moved up and down. He pressed his tongue against her, just a little, as he increased the speed. Her mouth opened, as she let go of the sheets, her body giving in to the feeling that had risen within her.

Daniel stopped, rising away from her, content with what had just happened. She lifted herself from the bed, her hair across her face, as she brushed it aside. She pulled at his belt, as Daniel stopped her, kneeling. He smiled, as a slight amount of confusion appeared upon her face.

“Hey, there will be time for that, “ he said with a calm, caring voice, “I’m not here just to sleep with you. Not going to happen tonight. We have to be honest with each other, no secrets, just honesty. Can we just chat?” She nodded, content with the idea that his words meant something, the clarity actually being something refreshing.

She’d asked for everything and, to Daniel, that meant that they both needed to be honest with each other. Two minds would only ever work together, if they understood each other’s motivations, desires, needs and wants within their own worlds. He wanted her to mean more than two people connecting physically, he needed her to give him everything and, in order to do that, he also had to give her absolutely, completely, without hesitation… everything in return.

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Clay

Lillith stood next to the medium sized table, admiring her work, taking in the glorious view in front of her. She’d outdone herself, again, as she always did. This would be her finest work, the vision that she’d longed for and subconsciously desired, for the longest of times. In front of her, as her fingers glided along its surface, was a man made from clay.

The basics, the mould, the incarnation ready to become real as well as alive. She’d thought about this day on many occasions, within those moments, especially when her friends complained about their ex, as to why, with the y and x being her final solution. She would create perfection. She would sculpt the embodiment of her desires, needs, as well as wants. She knew, more than any other person, that there was no such thing as the perfect man.

She adored a challenge, a riotous revolution of anarchy and upturned dismay. She needed that rush, the adrenaline fuelled cacophony of bodily scribed lust and affection, as well as the simplicity of having someone to talk with. She could call a hundred of her friends, each one offering and affording her their time, but that wasn’t what she required. She, above all, was a woman that needed to feel desire flowing through her veins. She wanted to feel the weight of a chiselled body pressed against her or, of course, below her. Either way would do, as she knew that she called all the shots, no matter which shooting gallery she designed or found herself.

She added another millimetre of clay, to its chest, ensuring that she did not spoil the rippled stomach. She adored this form, the strong, often silent, mildly brooding male stereotype. Smouldering, each look speaking volumes as to what he secretly wanted to do to her, but with a smile that afforded light into her weary day. She wanted it all. All of it. Every single scrap of that best visage. No exceptions.

He had to be wise, courteous, but not so wise that he needed to inform people around him. He would and could tone that side of himself into a quieter setting. He’d be gentle, kind, until she wanted… needed, him to be so disgustingly masculine that her womanly aura quaked at the thought of him having her over and over again. He had to give that spell, spoken, expressed, presented and prescribed upon ever inch of her body.

She smiled, a coy, little, naughty smile. Then, looking at the clay that formed his head, she realised that men often retained a percentage of their intellect down below. She turned her attention to the single, last, solitary, remaining aspect of her creation. How big, how small, which shape, which length, which and what and where and how. This was important. This was critical. Too big, would be too much. Too small, might evoke ideals of feeling sorry for ‘it’. The middle ground, but with that little bit extra. She dipped her hand into the bucket of clay, moulding, shaping, creating her ideal size and appreciation. She slapped the newly created form between his legs, as she let out a small little shriek of fun. Perfect.

She stepped back, looking at the final, finished, completed project. She glanced at her newly added item, blushing a small tiny amount, realising that ‘that’, didn’t matter as much as she’d thought. It was his words, his inclinations, his meanings, the way he held her, the moments when he kissed her, his arms holding, caressing, lifting her within the world, that meant more. Sure, of course, it was more than pleasurable, but the whole package meant more than that singular item. She was creating perfection and, although she’d embellished in certain areas, this was what she wanted. Needed. Even craved.

She thought about his personality, knowing that the final incantation would send the thoughts forward into her newly formed figure. She didn’t wish for him to simply give her everything. The challenge, to ‘be’ challenged, teased, the expressive way that she remembered from her past exploits would be acceptable. The conversation would be light, fun, but with his understanding, his responsible thinking, he’d actually listen to what she had to say. Heaven knew that it wasn’t difficult, yet so many had failed. She was complex, simple, a muddle of expressions and day to day drama. Her problems were humble, easy, massive yet often dismissed. She was that straightforward person, with hidden dreams and secret desires that she simply did not wish to explain or exclaim. She’d wished and wanted for someone to actually pay attention to her, enough to figure her out.

From nowhere she felt sadness enter her heart. The world, full of men, with nearly all of them taught the exact same performance and actions. It saddened her, often dismayed her. She pushed aside the feeling as she, instead, returned to concentrate on the most valid aspect of this new form. His heart. Understanding, loving, caring, receptive and loyal. She would never commit to a person or place that lied. This was her number one rule. He had to have that purity, still believing that a love could last forever, despite the very notion being something from within a naive play. He simply had to believe. She wanted to be held by his emotions, but free to roam wherever or with whomever she wished. There would be no room for narcissism within any aspect of her life.

Nearing her conclusive thoughts, she stepped back another step, to glory over every aspect of her work. Her pride threatened to rip itself from her beating heart, as she accepted the figure in front of her. This was the moment. That time. Pressing her hands together, in front of her face, she closed her eyes and said the incantation. A few seconds moved, her thoughts flowing, as her aura reached over to touch the clay figure in front of her. All her thoughts, every single desire and craving, moved through her, to him. Every aspect of balance that she could find, flowed and moved with ease.

She opened her eyes and returned her arms to her side. The clay, in front of her, slowly changed colour, as well as texture, to a beautiful shade of skin. More seconds escaped as the butterflies within her stomach, started to erratically dance. She was excited, as well as thrilled, as he moved for the first time. He opened his eyes, his head moving ever so slightly, to view her. He lifted his torso from the table, swinging his legs to the side, to stand. He stepped forward, her eyes not able to look elsewhere, as her breathing faltered ever so slightly. He was beautiful, magnificent, majestic and so many, many more words that her mind could conjure. He smiled and something within her moved. She’d never, in her whole life, witnessed a man have this impact upon her.

“Hello!” he said, with a slightly higher pitched voice than she’d like. She pointed down, wincing as she expressed her desire for something different.

“Hello!” he said again, as she accepted his huskier, deeper tone. He stepped forward once more, bridging the gap between them, leaning forward ever so slightly due to his towering height. He pressed his lips to hers, exploring, tasting, the lightly pressed lips moving across her as she raised her arms to place them over his shoulders. He felt so very, very delicious. Her mind started to spin, as the kiss grew more intense, heavy, needing more from her than she’d ideally wish to present. She didn’t really care, as he was hers. She went with the moment, as he gently placed an arm around her behind, lifting her to him, her legs wrapping around his waist.

He held her against him, strong, connective, that embracing hold that ensured nothing existed between them. His kisses found something within her, as her legs became weaker with the moving seconds, his tongue ever so slightly finding hers.  She stopped kissing him, moving her head back just enough to stare into his deep, searching eyes. She’d done it. She’d finally created what so many women needed… she’d found the perfect man.

Click to Listen

Three

Daniel, reaching for his jacket, glanced behind him for a brief second. This was it, that final moment, the ending of something that should and could have lasted for a lifetime. Being friends was not for his character as, instead, he preferred to love with whatever he could give.

His hand found his jacket, as his peripheral vision caught sight of whatever was happening behind him. Nothing. Cold, clamouring silence that spoke volumes with the loud sound of silence. He wanted to scream, to shout, to exclaim his feelings but that wasn’t him. Not now. Persistence be damned when confronted with the decision of a woman. He’d known enough moments, more than a few arguments, to realise that when a decision was made, the mind could seldom be changed.

His eyes closed, the insanity of the moment raising his emotions to overflow his mind, as he scrambled to find his balance. He felt the worst emotion of all. His heart, his idiotic, silly, disadvantaged emotional centre, screaming as it shattered. He’d felt this before, a few times, within a few occasions that he’d rather forget but, instead, held onto as practise. He’d think that he’d be good at relationships, by this point in his life, but although he’d changed, people were people and all different.

His heart broke, collapsing into the corner of his chest, retreating the only way it knew. His breathing deepened; his face flushed, as the tears appeared within his eyes. He was a proud person, holding his integrity together the best he could, with his respect being given, instead of earned. He knew that he should walk out of the door, as his hand reached for the handle, but instead, he just wanted to take one last look.

He turned, feeling his tears move from his eyes, down his forlorn face. She was his world. That everything. The very reason that he smiled upon each waking day, the warm comfortable emotion that held him as he closed his eyes at night. This, to him, was a state of natural bliss that others seemed to find so very, very difficult to achieve. He needed for nothing within his world, as long as her hand was within his. They’d laughed, cried at the stupidest of things, while working towards some type of random future.

He looked at her, seeing her eyes looking at the floor, as she leaned against the sofa. Beautiful. Her hair, strewn across her face, ever so slightly blocked her view as she looked at him. She didn’t wish to do this. She didn’t want to cause any person any pain, especially such a person as the man standing in front of her. If she could, she would, embrace him again but that time was over. Even if she tried, even if she wanted to hold him, it would simply, easily, feel wrong.

He held her gaze, his thoughts screaming, his heart crying for her to end the emotions pressing against his chest. He wished her no harm. Love, in all its splendour and pain, should never wish to harm. He could thrash around like some demented child, trying to rationalise everything, to find a bridge, but some paths were never meant to continue. He knew this. To love, is to care without condition. To hold, is to know that the very next day could be cold. To embrace another, meant accepting that one day your heart would leave as easily as the moon falls upon the day.

He smiled through the tears, the heartbreak, the thoughts invading his sanity and through his failing love. For everything, a time. For everyone, a moment. She wouldn’t be the last, as she would soon simply be a memory to which he’d fondly smile. This was the world, his world, their world and circumstance.

He removed his gaze from hers, nodding once, then turned to open the door. Everything beautiful had the stark possibility of ending but, despite the realisation and emotional maturity, it still hurt like hell.  The words she’d used, no longer remained. The words to which he replied, barely even factored within the decision as, deep down, the only words that ever mattered, wherever or whenever, were three simple words. He needed to hear them, desperately, deeply, for one more second of absolute perfection and happiness. As the door closed behind him, he knew, that he’d never hear them again. Three, simple, easy, destructive and emotive words. Those three words were…

I Love You.

Audio to be added later.

Faceless

I’ve been there. Seen most of it, felt the emotion, then hid away as if I’m the most worthless individual created upon this very world. The sadness, the raw emotion, being held within my own soul as close as a Mother holds a child upon any given day. It’s real, it’s reasoned pestilence, a chapter of a book with a story still to be written.

I’ve been a faceless person. I’ve been nothing, within a room filled with personality and zest. The conversation assassins and the attention seekers, all treading upon any chance of your actual soul appearing to the singular, or to the many. I’ve stuttered and walked away on many occasions. It’s the norm, it’s the normal circumstance, it’s the soldier upon the battlefield for the first time. You feel the tension, the odd stance, wishing to run despite being frozen in place.

This is not the shape of your heart. We all know this. We feel this. The faceless person walking across the road, hearing the beep to hurry up. The faceless individual, walking into a room to be greeted by silence and that uncomfortable aura. If only. If any. We’re the person that can enjoy a conversation, understanding how important they can be, despite being interrupted and noticing lapse in other’s concentration. Abandoned, ignored, the worthless feeling rising within.

To me, none of you are faceless. I have to listen, I wish to listen, as I’ve been the exact same person as you. The rehearsing of lines before asking a question. The inability to speak to another, knowing that they simply do not wish to listen. It’s expected, it’s realised, that we can be a nation of selfish animals. The congressional hearing of truth being ignored for the shape of a face or the presentation of skin. The need to be famous, to be liked, is within all of us. For some, for others, it is the overriding sensibility of their lives. The depth is lacking, the requirement simple, yet so very, very flat.

We were born to hold another’s hand. We live to smile or, so it should be said, to be happy. The misery and sadness within a soul, can know depths that even the deepest oceans would shy away from such moments.  We can be the unknown. The many within the few. We wear no masks as, when we’re being honest, we have the inability to do so. What you do not see, is right in front of us. The hidden smile, the emotional bleak ticking clock, which is also known as a heart.

Then, from nowhere, once you believe and accept the realisation that your words and smile, are simply not required, you can find peace. We need not the acceptance of others. We do not need to command the room when we enter. We may always, forever and a day, be ignored when in a crowd but that’s okay. Once you understand the working way of the world, you can find the flow of your own smouldering heart. Embrace yourself. Smile to yourself. Watch, listen, take part where and when you can, but most of all… be the person that you were always meant to be.

When you’re being ignored, when you find yourself alone, you can hold your thoughts together with your very own heart. There is enough love within a person, each person, to envelop your grieving nature upon and within your world. This, this alone, can be the shape of your very heart. You need not feel sadness, anguish or sorrow. You can stand upon this world and raise your head. You are not the face you wear upon each given day. You’re not going to be the person that lights a room, as you need not desire such moments. They are transitory, empty, with the famous amongst us also finding the very same emotions that you face. Run from that drama filled space, run as fast as you can.

Find your acceptance, perseverance, while holding your own hand when the weather becomes rough. Warm your own fate when the chill of words enters your very ears. You are your own mountain, with each day becoming a new chance to scale yourself. Reach the top of your own baggage and fly as high as you can. These thoughts, these moments, are what you need. Belief. Understanding of how society around you functions. Emotions be damned, comprehension be embraced, with your very soul becoming something within the middle ground.

We are, we will be, we have been, the faceless. This, however, does not mean that we are nothing less than absolutely, completely, understandably and most certainly, amazing.

---

My Microphone is in work. Audio to follow.



"Faceless: If you describe someone or something as faceless, you dislike them because they are uninteresting and have no character."

Soft

Soft. So very, very soft. His thoughts betrayed him, as his fingertips moved across her skin. He loved this, the silence, the serene moments that presented themselves. They were, due to life’s usual way of throwing something towards the both of them, few and far between. Either way, no matter the prescribed external drama, they still managed to find time to do this.

Life moved fast, even faster when two people were looking the other way, with his thoughts often wishing to slow down. Rest. Recuperate. To find a place of serenity amongst the madness. She loved moments such as these. The simple moments. She’d throw off all of her clothes, climb into a warm bed, to such feel. He had a way of calming her, amongst the weathering storms and tribulations of moments. Maybe it was his aura, his calm voice, or just the simple fact that he listened to her when he really, really needed to do so.

Those simple moments. She’d rest on her side, legs curled against her stomach, with eyes closed. He’d then, at times, tell her an insane story that either made her laugh, cry, or even explore with the use of another’s imagination. She’d breath, slowly, trying to expunge all of those idiotic thoughts that sometimes wished to reveal her inner madness. That monologue of injustice, the idiocy of the world and the simple fact that people annoyed her. Not all of them, just a few, with this man making up for those seconds of life.

Then, whilst resting, while breathing in through her nose and out of her mouth, she’d just feel his fingers move along her skin. It was glorious. Such a small, easy, simple care filled moment that always managed to bring her to a place of lucid tranquillity. He asked for nothing which, to her, often confused her. Everyone wanted something yet, he asked for nothing more than her company. Madness made real.

His fingers moved along her side, as he placed a small, tender, kiss upon her neck and upper arm. This was his expression of care, his moment to connect on a level often overlooked. With others, he held himself back, but not with this one. She touched him, with her words, expressions, her temper as well as her smile. That respect, allowing him to finally realise that there were people that excelled with their own inner-worth.

She was glorious, furious, the light within the darkest room as well as the torrent that seemed to keep him moving. She moved, he supported. She fell, he would fall with her, only to assist with finding her own inner balance. He never sought control, as she was a soul that could never be contained, restrained or detained. She was the echo whispering within his ear and the fire that kept him so very warm at night. To him, to his touch, for every single one of his kisses, she pertained to the largest heart he’d ever encountered.

Once in a lifetime, the few within the many, would meet. He knew that they were both lucky, both gifted, but only when near each other. There were entities that seemed to fit, easily connecting, with more than a few seemingly happy to exist within the transitory, expired and ill-fated affair of love.  He’d had enough of that area of life, tired, exhaling the misery of failure after failure.

He continued to gently move his fingers over her back, to her behind, up, to return to her neck. Slowly, with intent, with care, with that focus being all he cared about. She could be a whirlwind, ferocious, even demanding, but that was her fire, her passion, her willingness to share all and everything within her heart. This was where he belonged. The calm within the fire. The balance for the swaying nature of her life. The lock that most certainly opened all barriers and beliefs.

He, again, kissed her neck. She turned, her beautiful eyes looking into his, smiling. She raised her arm, placing her hand onto the back of his head, moving him to her. Their lips met, tender, warm, enticing and willing him. He loved this woman. He couldn’t deny it and never would. She had that fire, the wealth of strength within her. She held his hand and it felt so very, very right but, most of all, through all of the exterior procrastination, she was simply, eloquently, when in his arms, soft.

Click to Listen

Weightless

Weightless, drifting, with eyes firmly closed as a tear slowly rolled down her cheek. She’d run, hide, scream or even wish another way but, right now, there was only weightlessness. Nothing more. She adjusted the temperature control valve, knowing, realising, that it wouldn’t be long before everything would end.

The primary oxygen tanks depleted, leaving only the secondary, with time being her only friend. This was supposed to be a simple task, a solitary manoeuvre out here in the dark, bleak, vastness of space. Then, from nowhere, they left her. Adrift. Screaming. Brandishing the realisation that she could do absolutely nothing to save herself. Her heart, beating faster than she could currently control, echoed throughout the sterile suit’s environment. She gathered herself, the deafening sound of her breathing, reminding her of her training.

She opened her eyes, looking at the barren, burnt, desolate planet in front of her. The Earth, her home, finally succumbing to the realisation that nothing lasts forever. She recalled the stories, from her youth, that described the ending of days. Her own grandfather, her family, stating that it would either be fire, or ice, that would take all of them away. The thought chilled her spine, even then, with her course of action becoming clear as the years moved forward.

Space, for her, would be the last bastion of saviour. She recalled the day the entire world was given the catastrophic news of impending desolation. A forgone conclusion, the order of things finally being reduced to nothing. At first the world sat in silence. A brief reprieve, before the chaos. Instead of working together, she watched as the world tore itself apart. Boredom, fear, the instability and insanity of society, finally coming apart. Riots, anarchy, chaos, destruction and brutality never seen before upon the world. The planet itself did not seemingly need to die, to end the suffering of the Human Race, as humanity itself was perfectly capable of doing so on its own.

The days arrived, the months, as the very life-giving sun etched scars across the Earth’s surface. The very bricks, the buildings themselves, melted to nothing. The planet, no longer supporting the eco-system that once kept the sun’s wrath at bay, simply dissolved to nothing. The axis of the Earth, of course, meant that there remained a few remote locations that supported a moderate amount of life. Oxygen depraved, any and all survivors wore respirators at all times, unless within a sealed environment.  They had all realised the hopelessness of the situation, but continued, nonetheless. The motions being followed with each and every single gesture and order.

They’d made that last-ditch effort to save some semblance of Humanity. The last Ark, the last attempt, to save something. A thousand souls, a thousand chances of reaching a new safe haven of rescue, before everything was lost forever. The man-made creation, five years in the making, sat in space until the final shuttle arrived. She’d been assigned to the auxiliary crew, the last few to check the safety and continuity of the very craft taking them to a new place. A new start.

All checks confirmed, all notifications made, she presented her very last words only to see the craft accelerate away from her. There were others, just like her, but they’d drifted in another direction. The worthless few, left to die, to suffocate, the worth of a person’s very soul thrown into the cold, vast, expanse of space. She’d cursed the person that had made the decision to end their lives. Her life.

She smiled a sad, betrayed, sorrow filled smile. Her best face, her lips that had expressed such joy and adventure of the possibilities of the Human Race, finally exasperated by her final fate. She sighed, filling her mind with anything that made her heart warm and her soul glow. She wouldn’t allow such an ending, such a place, to deny her the love that she felt within her heart. She’d given her all. She’d sweated blood, tears and more.

She’d once imagined her end of days, being one of solace and love. Surrounded by the few, or many, that held her heart with the soft, caring hands that realised the precious nature of each living entity. This was not worthy of such a dream.  She felt her stomach ache and her heart yearn, for another way. Pushing aside the feelings, she reminded herself of her sacrifice, the very work and energy that she had given. She’d achieved, flown, literally, higher than most people in her life or even upon her world. She’d accepted the highest honours a person of her stature could achieve and yet, upon two of her most beautiful days, presented the world with two living, breathing, children of her own.

She’d brush aside the tear that seemingly wished to stay against her cheek, if it were not for the complete inability to do so, as she, instead, focussed upon the oxygen warning alarm. She closed her eyes, again, resting. Breathing. The last few embers from her burning heart, slowed to a peaceful pressure, allowing her life to slowly drift away within the echoes of space. Vast. Beautiful. Endless. The same words, said again, described her very heart and soul. She was, finally, weightless.

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