Short-short fiction: Surely Some Revelation is at Hand.
A little Christmas treat. And a Patreon bleg!
Let’s get the first part out of the way: please sign up for my Patreon, this holiday season. A short story every month! Microfiction every week! Gaming material! And all for one buck a month. Honestly, I feel it’s a steal.
Moving on: “Surely Some Revelation is at Hand” was an entry in a microfiction contest. It did not win, and obviously I disagree with that result. Then again, now you get to read it! Enjoy!
And Season’s Greetings! Celebrate with a little light horror.
Surely Some Revelation is at Hand
By Moe Lane
This time last year, the night was full of stars.
The first explosions blossomed in the sky in February, and Earth panicked. But then the astronomers started explaining that those stars were from the edge of the universe. They’d blown up billions of years ago, and what we were seeing was “fossil light.” That was a good phrase, fossil light. Made people think that the danger was already past. Great work, guys. Sincerely.
That story lasted until June, when fireworks popped through the sky every night, with every pop a galaxy. Pop, and now the Milky Way’s smeared along the edges. Pop, pop, and you could see the ripples of exploding stars radiating out. Pop, pop, BOOM, and there went the rest of the Local Group. There were a couple of days in September when you could read at night, because the sky had turned light gray. Was it from the Milky Way? Was it no longer dark matter? We don’t know. The astronomers had all hanged themselves by then.
When the light started fading, well, that’s when we realized that the stars were all gone, and the planets, too. Everything except the Earth, the moon, and the sun. Oh, and the satellites -- never mind! They fell out of the sky in November. I guess the world’s ending? It’s hard to get news now.
Speaking of the end of the world? I went to a church, picked one at random. The parking lot was full, the pews were empty. All the places of worship were. I hope that means the believers got away, somehow.
Now it’s December, and it’s dark after sundown. Except for that one damned star Polaris. Polaris stuck around, when everything else winked out. Just there, shining in the dark, every night. Patient. Waiting.
But for what?