Miqui Medina
Hour Four Creative Writing
The Eleventh Hour
I followed the worn dirt trail behind my house towards the open, churning sea.
Clouds of dust expanded with every step I took, dissipating in the humid August air. I ran
my calloused fingertips over the tall, yellow grass on either side of me as I passed it. The
wind sent the blades rippling like waves. Soon I arrived at the decrepit boardwalk that led
to the water. I jumped from the creaking wooden planks down into the white sand and
looked around. I wondered aloud, “Where is Mary? She’s usually on time.” I dug my feet
into the cold sand and lay myself down. Stray sticks and debris littered the beach. The
Atlantic wind whistled past my ears and a lone cricket chirped in the distance. The gentle
rise and recession of the waves on the shore lulled me into a state of relaxation. I could
taste the familiar salt of the water as the crests broke near me. The sky had a reddish tinge
to it; the sun would be going down soon. Mary had better hurry up.
Sure enough, she was walking along the shoreline towards me. Her long, dark hair
was tied up in a simple ponytail. She smiled as she approached, even though I could see
the worry in her eyes. She sat next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. We had
agreed to meet here because of its neutral position to our homes, but mostly because of its
beauty. It was a calming place and held lots of our memories. There isn’t a place I would
rather be when the meteor strikes in triumphant glory.
When Mary sat down, we spoke tentatively at first. The elephant on the beach was
our imminent death, and I could tell she didn’t want to be the first to acknowledge it.
“So…it’s weird to think that we won’t be alive tomorrow,” I began.
“Yeah,” she responded, “I’m at peace with it. There isn’t much left that I want to
do…No problems that need fixing. No regrets.”
I wasn’t surprised. We had learned about a month ago that a giant space rock was
coming to fizzle us out of existence. We had time to prepare ourselves and do whatever
we wanted to do. Most businesses fell apart quickly, and crime grinded to a halt. The
things that were important only two days prior didn’t matter anymore, now that we were
on the verge of the apocalypse. Families were reunited and everyone took their time to
smell the roses. Money and such luxuries were useless. Everyone operated on good will
and the knowledge that the great equalizer was upon us. The divides between races and
creeds fell apart. All of the walls that our society had built crumbled. Everyone lived in
peace.
Still, people ran to their temples and churches to pray to their respective gods for
salvation. Millions suddenly turned to religion after ignoring it for the majority of their
lives. Although it was by no means the norm, the hedonists took the news as permission
to party out of their skulls. Parts of the world were no doubt drowning in sex, drugs, and
rock’n’roll. We simple folk decided to live as usual.
Despite the looming bringer of death on the horizon, life in the past month had
been blissful. We lived in anticipation of the end, but tried to maintain a degree of
normalcy. The scientists said that the impact would kill lots of people, but most would
die because of the epic wind that would circle the globe, and if not the wind, then surely
the wave of fire that would fan out from the epicenter. No matter the means, it will all be
over before we know it.
Tonight was to be the beginning of the end. Mary and I are long-time friends and
decided to watch it come together, rather than spend our final moments with our
dysfunctional families. We had always been together for the tough moments in life to
lend a helping hand to one another, and this instance was no different. Mountains will
crumble and valleys will be filled; rivers will dry up and forests will smolder; life will
end and the world will warp, and we will see it all from this beach, together.
Mary drew a cross in the sand and began to write a prayer with her fingertip. She
had always been a good Catholic and was banking on Heaven. Although there had been a
time and a place when I would have joined her, these days, I personally didn’t believe in
all of that, but I didn’t say a word. We'd had this conversation many times before. She
would try to convince me to return to God with nothing more than speculation and faith.
The only problem was that I had no faith. Never did I have a reason to believe. If
anything, I had felt that God was out to get me. Why worship him? Knowing that I would
die soon, I would not be like all of the others and flock to God, now that I needed him. I
am many things, but a hypocrite I am not.
It seemed as though Mary could read my thoughts. “Don’t do it for yourself,” she
suddenly said, “do it for me.”
This, I thought, was an interesting concept. Mary really believed in spending
eternity in Heaven and genuinely feared for my soul. It was noble, I decided, to repent for
her, so that I might keep her company until the end of time. After all, I was all that she
had here on Earth, and she was the only one for which I really cared for. Besides, what
harm could it do?
“I will if you help me,” I finally said.
The sun was beginning to set, and the sky turned a deeper shade of red. The
clouds seemed to dissipate and the wind picked up. Mary and I kneeled down, facing
each other with my hands in hers. She whispered words to a prayer and I repeated them.
Her eyes were closed and her face was solemn. When she finished, we sat back. We lay
down in the sand and she hummed a joyful tune. “When do you think it will come?” she
asked. I didn’t respond.
Time went by. I am unsure whether it was minutes or hours, but soon enough, it
began. The ground rumbled as though there were a million horses charging toward us at
once. The water rippled and thrashed in sync. It suddenly became unbearably hot and the
wind began to howl. Mary held me close. I could no longer keep my eyes open, but I
sensed light. The heat and wind rose, as did the quaking. I did not fear the end as I always
imagined I would; no, I welcomed it. The last thing I heard was Mary saying a single,
quiet word, “Amen.”