A short story about the end of time. Written on the 25th May 2016.
“Dance of the Infernals“
The great titans sprung and stomped, leapt and twirled as time crumbled all around them. It was armageddon; the coming of the end.
None had predicted that it would happen this way, with the arrival of eight giants of fire and magma. They had come from the stars, and left blackness in their wake. Our planet was next, the latest stop on their catastrophic pilgrimage of dissolution.
In silence they performed their duty, dancing upon the surface of the world as it boiled and evaporated like forgotten soup. The living dissolved and their souls burned into nothingness, as did the liquids, solids and gases that made up the once blissful rock. The dancing continued, the eight icons of destruction unwavering in their charge. The skies fell and the battered core imploded, annihilating one more island in the vast sea of rupturing time.
There was no pause to bow, no moment to catch their breaths. The advancing tide of annulment waits for nothing. The eight took off once more down the collapsing corridors of space, unto their next appointment. It would be their last and it would be upon the brightest and grandest stage of them all. Lit up for the dying gods to see, the grand finale on their whirlwind tour of undoing would be their most powerful yet. A fitting end to the dance of the infernals. There would be no encore.