The End of the World - Part 2 (Short Fiction

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This is day 19 for me in @dragosroua's 30 day writing challenge. This is part 2 (the final part) of the story I posted yesterday. It is a surreal SciFi titled The End of the World. Part 1 can be found here.

< Part One

THE END OF THE WORLD (Part 2)

The Girl Who Used To Be Depressed

I had enough of the water. It was no longer calming me. It had brought strangeness into my life. And I still didn't know what a sinner looked like. Perhaps I never will. I went away from that place and stayed with a girl I knew. She used to be depressed. But she wasn't anymore. Except she didn't know that. Seems no one had told her. She allowed that black cloud to follow her around even though she was happy. She seemed happy to me. I wanted to tell her. I wanted to ask her how she did it? But I wasn't allowed.

She lived in the city. In between all the tall towers and empty silos. Where office folks locked themselves up for crimes they never committed. Surrounded by cold steel and the weight of the world's concrete. If I was to ever find a robot it would be here. And sinners. This place had to be crawling with them. Trapping my friend in her depression, even though it had left her.

"Better her than us," they whispered to me. "It'll just chase after you if you help her." I wanted to help her. But they wouldn't let me. All those sinners around me made me stand back and let her be.

I could see it beside her, the dark void of uncertainty. "Why don't you leave her alone?" I asked it.

"And then what? Watch her die? Watch her succumb to the disease of happiness? It will be the end of her world you know."

"Perhaps it will also be the end of your world," I told the dark void.

"No, our world never ends. We will always be here. Tormenting someone. If it's not her, it will be someone else. Maybe you." They looked at me from the midst of their darkness. Out of the mist of depression and uncertainty. I felt their weight bear down on me.

"No, not I. I don't wish for this."

"You don't have a say in the matter."

My friend seemed happy. Perhaps not knowing she was no longer depressed was enough. It seemed odd to me, but most things do. Maybe I shouldn't upset things. Maybe I shouldn't chase her blues away, just to have them lurch after me. To knock on my door in the middle of the night. To enter my house and inject dark thoughts into my bloodstream.

"Are you happy?" I asked her.

"I don't know what happiness is."

"Are you a sinner?"

"I've been told I'm not."

"By whom?" I asked.

"The robots."

The Dog With No Name

There were too many mysteries, too many hidden things. People knew things but were not telling me. I even met a dog once who wouldn't tell me his name.

"I have no name," he said. But I didn't believe him. All dogs have a name.

"I've never met a dog with no name. Are you sure you have no name?"

"Of course I am sure. It is one thing of which I am certain."

"Maybe you just forgot it."

"Dogs don't forget their name. Maybe humans do. That wouldn't surprise me. Too busy searching for things thay have no business searching for. Meddling in the affairs of gods and robots."

"What do you know about robots?" I asked him.

"Only that I don't care to know anything about them."

"Well that's one thing you know. Perhaps its enough." I had never met a dog with no name. And then to find out he has heard about the robots. Is this what happens when the world is coming to an end? Dogs forget their names and robots emerge from the sea, to hunt down the sinners.

"Do you know what a sinner looks like?" There was no harm in asking. This dog seemed to know things. Except his name that is.

"Never met a sinner. Are you sure they exist?"

"No, not really. Not until I see one. But that's proving difficult because I don't know what one looks like."

"Probably just rumours."

"I heard they exist out past the oceans. Maybe when the world ends we will see them." I told him.

"The world has already ended. Did you miss it?"

"When did it end? What was I doing?" For a dog with no name he sure knew a lot of things.

"Long time ago. Before my time. It's the beginning of the world you need to be wary of."

"The beginning of the world? What happens after that?"

"Not sure. It hasn't happened yet."

"Are you sure you have no name?" I asked him again. He didn't respond. I wanted to ask him if the robots sent him but he had moved away. I couldn't call after him. What do you call out to a dog with no name? Probably the same thing you call out to a sinner. And I didn't know that either.

My Brother

I was a child once. Long time ago. I don't remember it. But I have photos from then. They are mostly faded, or thrown away. Scattered on the sidewalks of history. Reminding strangers of who I used to be. They would often tell me, "I know you. You look familiar." But they could never remember where from.

I had sent a part of me out once in search of the end of the world. It never returned. Perhaps it is still looking. But someone else did return. It wasn't me. It was my brother. At least he said he was my brother. I don't remember having one when I was younger. I think I would remember such a thing.

"I have come back from beyond the oceans. From the other side of the waters," he told me. He sounded just like me.

"I didn't think there was anything out past the waters. Just the edge of the world."

"There is no edge. It just goes on forever."

"So there is no end?" I asked.

"There is an end. Everything ends. Even the world. But you can't find it beyond the oceans."

"What do you find beyond the oceans?"

"Other places. Strange and wonderful places," he said.

"Like America?"

He smiled at me but didn't respond. I could see answers to so many questions glistening within his eyes. Would he share them with me? Would he invite me in and let me bask in his hidden knowledge?

"Are you sure you're my brother?" I asked. It seemed incomprehensible that I wouldn't remember such a thing. Like not knowing what a sinner looked like. Why were there so many mysteries in this world? In this life?

"Indeed I am."

"Do you know what a sinner looks like?"

"No. But I know someone who does."

"Who?"

"The Preacher Man does. He will tell you. You just need to ask."

The Preacher Man

"I want to know what a sinner looks like." I had gone to the one person who would know. My brother had promised me he would. Ask the Preacher Man he said. He knows. Well so does Jolie, but she wouldn't tell me. Would the Preacher Man be any different?

"Don't we all son. Don't we all."

"Will you tell me, so I can learn to spot them?"

"I'll do more than tell you. I will show you."

The Preacher Man stood up and removed his trench coat. I hadn't noticed his size before. He was massive, like a mountain that rose from the sea. The SingSong Man had sung about them. Had he been trying to warn me? He sung about the mountains that rose from the sea and the gods who would lasso them. Why would the gods lasso them and throw them back into the seas? Was the Preacher Man one of those mountains? Had he escaped from the gods?

He towered over me, arms outstretched like he was holding the world. Readying himself to drop the world upon me. But instead he folded his arms in on himself and removed his shirt. He wanted me to see something. He wanted me to see the truth. He stood there as I observed his gun metal grey arms. His cold steel machine like limbs, pointing menacingly down at me.

"I have come to wash away your sins," the Preacher Man said. His eyes were like radio dials the colour of blood. A radioactive disease flowed through his veins and pumped through his metallic parts. I could hear him ticking deep inside. Was that his thoughts? Was he readying a sermon for me about how I am a sinner, and that I smelt like a confused child? A dirty child born of sin. Locked away in someone else's hidden place. Away from the world. Away from all the other sinners.

I could see it, finally. The green puss oozing from his skin. From his metallic robotic surface. Jolie was right. The green puss of hell.

"So I am a sinner then?" I asked.

"We all are."

"Including you?"

"Especially me," he answered.

I wanted to ask him why he didn't wash away his own sins. Why he focused only on mine and everyone else's. I thought about Jolie. Had she shown me sin? Did it even matter? It was another world with her. Was that when my world ended? Perhaps this is just the delayed effect of dying? Perhaps I have already moved on? To another world. A better world. Would Jolie be there? I hope she comes out of hiding.

And what of the SingSong Man? He used to sing about a better world. And if he sung about it then it had to exist. That much I did know. Even if I didn't know much else. And he sung about making love with a girl named Jolie. But he never sung about sin. Ain't no sin he told me. But there is a girl named Jolie. I hope I see her again.

The Prophet had been right all along. Beware the robots he told me. Until the angels took him away. Did those angels work for the Preacher Man? Did the angels also take away Jolie? Or was that the airplane? She must be in America now, away beyond the oceans. Out past the edge of the world. Where my brother was. I wonder if Jolie ever met my brother?

I just wanted to know what a sinner looked like. Seems they don't look like anything much at all. And the end of the world. It's come and gone. Many times already. I can hear Jolie whispering it to me. Telling me the truth. Letting me know the hidden things. Things that only she knew. I can hear her voice telling me, "Ain't no sinners. Ain't no hell."

The End

All images used with permission, and sourced from Unsplash.com.

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Notes From an Amateur Writer blog series:

Short Fiction:

Bang Bang You're Dead
I Have No Name and I Must Scream
The Last Book Store
The Judge
The Man In The Mirror

The End of the World - Part 2 (Short Fiction - Dark/Surreal SciFi)