Deathwish 045: Liz
“death still lurked out there, just waiting for me.”
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When I was a child, I dreamed the sun burned out. It didn’t go supernova or compress itself into a black hole, it just simply stopped burning, like a birthday candle blown out.
We knew this a few days before the final light rays reached us… light speed in my dream was much slower than the actual 8 minutes 20 seconds it takes for the Sun’s beams to travel the 92.93 million miles between sun and earth in waking life.
This gave everyone time to prepare a bit. We stockpiled the usual apocalyptic staples – canned goods, flashlights, blankets. Everyone stood outside and watched the final sunset, the blue sky brightening to brilliant orange, then fading to pink, then lavender, and then the darkness of an unending night. The pin-prick light of stars was little comfort, and the moon lumbered on its orbit invisible, un-illuminated.
Electric lights continued to burn, but a coldness crept in – an unrelenting chill that became deeper with each passing moment. Huddled inside with my family, I realized we would eventually run out of food. Without the light and warmth from the sun, agriculture would cease.
I was filled with a choking sense of dread and overwhelmed by the inevitability of death. Sure, scientists, governments, everyone in the world would try to engineer solutions, but their ideas would ultimately fail.
The end was certain. It was just a matter of time before my parents, my brother, and myself either froze to death or starved. There was nothing we could do but wait.
I woke up, relieved to see the brightness of a new day, but unable to shake the realization that even with the sun still burning, death still lurked out there, just waiting for me.
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To read the previous installment, "Deathwish 044: Summer," go here. To participate in Deathwish, find details here.
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Liz was born in Naperville, Illinois, and currently lives in Greenfield, California.