The Planet Crumbled
Matthew Ryan Fischer
A cacophony of creaks and moans filled the air as the ground rumbled
and creatures fled. The colors in the sky ranged the spectrum from red to dark,
to even darker. The sun was hidden. Streaks of fire fell as trillions of
particles crushed through the atmosphere.
The calculations had failed. There was no stopping the entropy as
the rules of reality dissolved. A million temporal disorders erupted, loops
crashing into one another, paradoxes and contradictions abounded. With each one,
another tear in the fabric of existence was torn.
With enough energy emitted, there was an idea to vibrate between
existence and another place. There was a hope that a great many could cross and
find another life, that perhaps there could be salvation of some sort.
It was reckless and a great many were disintegrated in the effort.
Perhaps it worked for a few. There was no way to tell.
A man sat on a hill at watched. He was from another place. In his
dreams he had created worlds, but here he was witnessing the end. An entire destruction.
It wasn’t happening the way it was supposed to, but he could do nothing to prevent
it. There was no control.
A tear formed. Something, not exactly light or dark, came through.
It was a form, or a substance, of some sort. An energy. An entity. It was
impossible and incomprehensible. The tear spread as the world ripped apart. Something
was coming and even as existence was ending, a new one began.
The man checked his watch and determined he had seen enough. He
began to phase.
The tears spread and approached.
He wasn’t gone yet.
The thing from another place met the man from another place. Not
that anyone was there to witness it.
For a moment, non-existence.
Then something began to bubble. Something began to pulse.
Something was on its way.
Not that anyone was there yet.
And yet… Something this way came.
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