The end of everything (Short Story)

Skies

The wind nips at my face, blowing my short hair back a bit. I hide my fingers and toes inside the blanket covering most of my body as I sit on my balcony and observe the lights of the city. On any ordinary night, any ordinary person would be indoors by now, snuggled into their couches or their beds and fast asleep. I'll tell you now, that I am no ordinary person. Who else would be sitting outside in nothing but a tee shirt, some pajama shorts and a blanket, in mid December? Me that's who.

I've always been fascinated by the weather, fascinated by how the world works, how human being's live in such harmony, yet such violence at the same time. Below me there are people who are starving and people who are dying. Yet there are others who are full, warm, happy. You may ask which of these groups I'm in, my answer is none. I am a being beyond time and space, beyond being segregated into a group only used within human colonies.

My name is Kasha. That's all you need to know for now. Everything else will be explained in due time.

Back to my observations. The moon shines brightly from behind a small, light grey cloud. It's very quiet, with exception to the wind and the occasional car passing below; though it's almost expected. At three in the morning, most of the population is asleep. Most.

Out of all the cities and worlds I've lived on, this has to be one of my favorites. While I sit out here, I feel nothing but Frieden, peace. It's the best part of each day. I take a cigarette out and put it between my teeth, enjoying the feel of it. I don't bother to light it, not yet. The smoke would just cloud the stars from my vision.

Another car passes the road I live on, that makes for fifty so far. My fingers fidget with the frayed edge of my blanket. I count silently the lights closest to me.

It is only a week till Christmas, another one of those fascinating topics that I really can't wrap my head around. It was explained to me long ago, by my
human lover who explained everything. She knew what I was, she didn't mind. I can't remember her name now, but I will always remember her voice. Soft and sweet with a hint of maturity. She loved to talk to me, and we had many meaningful conversations. I learned much from her. I can't help but wonder what she would say to me now, fifty years after her death. Surely she would be just as amazed with how this world has changed, as I am. She may chide me for cutting my hair. I remember that was something she loved dearly, running her fingers through my long hair as we talked. Maybe she would wonder what was going on through my head as I lived on, in a world full of selfish men and women.

Human nature has rubbed off on me, now I am more selfish than anyone. I try not to think of it.

I only have days left on this world, barely even a fraction of the time I've been alive. I'm relieved by it, maybe in these coming days I will finally find something that sums up my purpose here on earth.

A reason why I've been kept alive.
Natural selection has almost worked me over numerous times. I think back to the first ten years that I lived here, in the small cottage with all the flowers and birds and the coziness that came with it. I remember leaving. I remember my next house, a quaint Victorian home in early New York. And then once again, when I moved to New Orleans and met her. My first love, my first death.

Even now her face brings but a small pain to my heart. I push it away.

Another car passes, fifty one. A thread comes loose on my blanket and I pull at it. My other hand lights the distraction in my mouth, and I breathe in the sickly sweet poison.

The stars shine brightly. The tiny snowflakes kiss my face and I close my eyes. One by one, the lights go out. I feel my light go out also, but I don't go in. Some pain is better suffered in solitude.

***********

I think I go back inside around sometime around 6-7 , when the sun started to finally come up. It wasn't that I was tired, I lacked the need for sleep, I just was more infatuated with night than day; I didn't want to hear the sounds of people and cars everywhere.

People seem to ruin the beauty.

I make a cup of coffee and sit at my kitchen table, waiting for 10 to strike the grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the living room. My mind continues working rapidly, analyzing every detail out the window and in my tidy penthouse. I consider laying down to shut my mind up. I consider many things. The cars begin to zoom by, and the sound hits my sensitive ears. I frown in distaste. How could humans ruin such A beautiful world as this, I don't know. I can't begin to fathom how to deal with this noise, I'd tried ear plugs before, but my ears are too perfect, and they only block out a small fraction of the noise.

The clock chimes and I stand, placing my mug in the sink and pushing the kitchen chair back underneath the table. A sigh escapes my chapped lips.

"I've grown too used to this place." I tell myself, walking quietly to the balcony, closing the door, and shutting the curtains.

The day goes on, even if life does not.