The End of the World | Teen Ink

The End of the World

August 17, 2022
By ariunger BRONZE, Bronx, New York
ariunger BRONZE, Bronx, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Sirens blared, and smoke rose from the ground. People rushed through the streets trying to find their family, and it was our fault. All our fault. It was our wars, and our bombs. Once in a while, an old man or woman would just stop, their face a mixture of grief and pain. They would stop and cry. They would raise their arms to G-d, and ask him what the point of all this was. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t stop. Everyone knew the end was coming, but no one knew when it was going to happen, since the government didn’t want to tell us. They wanted life going on as normal, right up until the very end. But, when suddenly, the sirens started blaring, and every screen started playing the same message, “Proceed in a calm and orderly fashion to your evacuation center”, everyone dropped everything they were doing, and ran off. It was total and uncontrollable panic. People flooded the streets in an uncontrollable stampede, while around them, the gleaming metal buildings were being stained by the rain.

My family and I had planned to meet at the nearest evacuation center, but when I got there they were nowhere to be seen. Fighting down panic, I got into the line stemming from the evacuation center. I could feel the ground rumbling beneath my feet, and I could see buildings toppling down in the distance as the ground literally broke apart. People were screaming, and for some reason the air smelled like something was burning. The line was two blocks long, and along the line were robots, with orders to hurt anyone who misbehaved. Meanwhile, I kept looking for my parents, and baby sister. They were nowhere to be seen. Eventually, I made it into the evacuation center, which used to be a plane station. There was a bot manning a desk, scanning everyone's IDs, to assign them to a spacecraft. I hesitated, wanting to stall until my family was there. I just couldn't understand where they could be. It made no sense. We had planned to meet here. On the tarmac, spacecrafts took off, the sunlight reflecting off of the metal. After a few minutes the robot looked at me, and said, 

“Please scan your ID.” Torn and guilty, I swiped my card, and the bot told me to go to spacecraft 12D. Slowly, I shuffled forward. In front of me I saw a spacecraft with a human soldier.The soldier was holding a sign that said “12D”. Silently, I walked into the spacecraft. I chose a seat near the entrance, and sat down. I heard a whirring sound as the hanger began to close. Spacecrafts were taking off all around us, and I could feel the spacecraft shaking, as it struggled to take off. A bang sounded, and the hanger door stopped moving halfway up. Through the opening I could see the Earth splitting apart. Smoke started to rise from the crack. It started off thin, but quickly turned into a thick cloud of never ending smoke. Lava started to pour out of the crack. It was a beautiful vibrant red, and destroyed everything in its path. And then I saw them. My family was standing there, frozen. They noticed me, and started to run towards the spacecraft. I jumped up from my seat, and ran towards the hanger door. Leaning over it, I reached out my hand. Slowly, our craft started to rise up into the air, even though the hanger was still open. Just as the Earth was crumbling beneath their feet, the asphalt splitting apart, and the ground beneath separating into tiny parts, my parents managed to get to me. My baby sister was strapped to my father’s stomach, in a harness. We were ten feet above them, but with an inhuman leap my father jumped, him and my mother hand in hand. My father grasped my fingers, holding on with a death grip. Slowly we rose into the sky, just like that. In a broken spacecraft, with my family hanging on for dear life.


The author's comments:

I previously wrote a novel that won the 1st place Gold Key award for New York City at the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards, and I also participated in a Columbia University year long writing workshop. 


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