I’m writing this in the evening, at 8:52 pm. It’s starting now. My name is Max Ivar, I’m eighteen. Please don’t forget about me, or the world we lived on, or the love that people shared with you.
On Tuesday, May 16th, at 6:15 am, I realized the world might end. Or, rather, I thought it’d end, but convinced myself I was paranoid.
The initial thought popped into my mind while walking through the forests in my hometown. It was already warm, despite being so early. I know why, now, but I was so naive then. The sun shone through the forest’s canopy, casting long shadows, catching and glinting on thin spiderwebs that lay between trees and shrubbery.
Spiderwebs… I wish that’s all they were. God.
The walk was truly beautiful, up until I reached a large clearing. I was 20 feet in when I noticed the sky. In some areas, the sky looked smudged. The horizon was unclear and blurred, too. My stomach dropped. Everything looked so wrong, but my panic only lasted a few moments. I realized it must have been my eyesight getting worse. I scoffed. I was so convinced that it was just my eyesight that I headed home, planning on making an appointment with my optometrist.
It was about 8 am by the time I reached my house, 9:37 am by the time I was off the phone. I was irritated with the long wait and also very bored, so I headed into town to get some fresh air.
While walking through my neighbourhood, I noticed most of my neighbours were outside, talking. Most of them are older or have families, so they’re often inside or away, too busy to chat. But today, everyone was outside. No one was at work or going to work. No one was going to school. They were all outside, talking quietly, looking around.
I overheard some conversations. They were talking about the spiderwebs. Which were everywhere, apparently. Because they were everywhere, no one wanted to go near them, so they stood idly outside their houses or made their way slowly across the street.
They didn’t know anything.
I wish I didn’t, either.
It was hot, though, and getting hotter. Spiders become quite active in the heat, and although this was strange, it wasn’t necessarily unheard of. I didn’t second guess it. I guess it didn’t matter whether I did or didn’t, anyway.
I reached the town, just a short walk from my small neighbourhood. There were barely any people outside. I saw movement inside the restaurants, gas stations, and small personal buildings as I walked through the town. It was creepy. Of course, it was.
I headed into a corner store, eyeing the candy bars and cheap gum strips…
Why can’t I just go back to such simple times?
…The store was pretty cramped, and everyone was talking about the spiderwebs or heat, or both. I bought a candy bar and quickly left, disliking cramped spaces.
The town being empty, more or less, was weird to see. I mean, I knew people were there, but they were in buildings, so the streets and sidewalks seemed empty.
It was 11:33 am as I made my way to a playground near the edge of our town. The playground was located on a little hill. If you stood on the highest platform of the playground, you could see the town. Most of it, at least. My mum used to bring me here when I was little. We watched the stars together and watched the sunrise; we watched days begin and the town come to life. It was beautiful and comforting, and it warmed my heart. I stopped going after she passed away. This was my first time back since she died.
I reached the playground. It was empty and quiet. The poor playground was so old and rundown. I sat on a swing, chewing on my candy bar. I glanced at the just barely visible rooftops of shops and homes.
It was so quiet.
I was there for a few hours, on the swing, walking around, taking in the view. I was waiting for sunset before I went to the highest platform.
At about 3 in the afternoon, I noticed that the horizon was more blurry. I noticed the clouds that drifted all the wrong ways. I noticed small, thin, spiderweb-like lines crossing over the sky. It was beautiful, in a terrifying sort of way. I thought that I was going crazy, or maybe dying, or something like that. I didn’t think about the world ending until later.
I decided to lie down on the nearly dead grass. It crunched quietly underneath the weight of my body. I watched the strange clouds pass overhead. They moved in such strange, unnatural ways. But I laughed to myself. This is what I did as a child. This is how I had fun. I made shapes from the clouds. It was always funny to me, so I laughed. It was a quiet, childish laugh, no more than a giggle. But it was laughter nonetheless. I gazed at this fantastical sight. I wondered where the spiders were, why they weren’t in their homes or anywhere to be seen. I wondered why they’d abandon their homes. I wondered for hours until the sky grew to different shades of blue and purple as the sun fell slowly behind the horizon. The sun was pulled and twisted in the new obscured horizon line.
The lack of spiders was still on my mind, even as I made my way to the top of the playground, and sat on that platform. Even as I traced the words, my mother and I carved into the old wood together. When my eyes met the view of the town, and I saw the windows reflecting the brightly coloured sunset, I remembered something.
I remembered how glass looks when it shatters.
I looked up, slowly, dread filling every inch of my being. I made the connection as my eyes met the webs. They weren’t webs. I realize that now. They’re cracks in the sky; in our reality.
And now, here I am, the sun nearly set fully as the sky cracks, falling to pieces. It’s getting hotter, as heat from other realities and planes seep through, and in to ours. The pieces, orange and pink and purple, look like petals falling from a blossom tree.
I realized that all pieces of reality are breaking away, not just the ones in the sky. So, as I watch the piece I’m near drift into nothingness, I trace the words etched into the wood, the last thing I’ll ever know… “Our love is forever, my little one.”