After the Conclusion

…and then came the end of it all.

The universe had served its purpose, taught all it had ever been intended to teach, and as such it was time to pass on into the great void beyond that which is real.

It held no ill will with regard to this fact. Even if such thing as a universe could count itself capable of ill will, it held none in this case.

The people went first, those in the background, followed closely by those you’d grown to know and love, growing pale and wan before, finally, laying down where they were and dying, allowing their bodies to turn to dust and blow away in the wind.

Nobody fought, none railed against this process, they knew there was nothing they could do in the face of entropy itself and, when their time came one by one, they accepted it with as much dignity as they could muster.

Which, by the time their time came ‘round, wasn’t much. There wasn’t energy enough in their body to muster dignity, indeed not enough for much of anything.

The world, now untethered from its population, was then free to begin its own slide into the abyss. Cities crumbled, mountains fell into the sea, but slowly, sluggishly, slouching toward nothingness not with a bang, but a whimper.

And as it did, in the night sky above, first the stars, then the sun and moon winked out of existence, like lights being one by one switched out, until finally there was nothing.

It had been a good universe, one who’s creator might once have been proud of it, full of life and vitality, but it had served its purpose and, as it would never be visited again, there was no longer any need for its existence, nor any need for sentimentalism at its passing.

It had run its course, and its course was through. It was time to go and there was nothing more to it than that.

So it went.

And, as the last of the earth fell into itself, and the last of the stars vanished from the sky, leaving nothing but abyss in their wake, the universe said its own silent goodbye to whomever might be listening…

…and the story, gone but never forgotten, arrived at its conclusion.

Weekly Prompt Story: Not Found

http://oneadayuntilthedayidie.com/?p=25243

The Body

By Christopher Munroe

The body was never found.

I know, because I still have it.

I keep it in my walk-in freezer, hanging from a meat hook. Nobody questioned me buying the meat hook, which is weird since I followed it up by not buying meat at any point.

Vegetarian, don’t you know.

You’d think that would be suspicious, wouldn’t you? Buying a walk-in freezer, a meat hook and zero meat? I’d find that suspicious…

But nobody else did, nobody came around to search my walk-in freezer, and thus the body was never found.

But I digress: You wanna buy a human corpse?

He was cast out...

…and he was neither seen nor heard from ever again, ‘round these parts.

Nor will he ever be.

Our town’s vigilant, we’ll make a point of that.

No one can remember what it was he did to deserve our collective scorn, but whatever it was, it must’ve been awful.

After all, our community doesn’t make mistakes. Not here, not ever. Not once we’ve put our heads together and settled on something.

We cast him out, so casting him out must have been the right choice, the only choice.

Thus: He’ll never be seen or heard from again, for whatever reason.

Weekly Prompt Story: Lemon

http://oneadayuntilthedayidie.com/?p=25216

Lemons

By Christopher Munroe

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.

If you’re five years old.

If you’re an adult, and life gives you lemons, find salt, tequila and somebody to share it with, body-shot style.

No, tequila’s not for everyone. Some are made ill by the liquor, and many find it bitter. But that doesn’t matter in the end.

Because you have to make the best of what you have in this life, whether you like it or not.

And sometimes it will be bitter, because life is sometimes bitter.

Like a lemon.

And when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.

No story this week...

...due to my life falling apart. I'll be back next week, tho'!

Weekly Prompt Story: Horn

http://oneadayuntilthedayidie.com/?p=25163

At the Record Company Meeting

By Christopher Munroe

How about Ska?

The genre originated in the ‘50s, blended with punk in the ‘70s and came back in the ‘90s, twenty years appears to be how long it takes before each Ska revival, so the time seems to be right.

Let’s bring the horn section back!

I’m thinking it’ll replace Dubstep. It’s the same market, young, energetic people who want to dance.

Currently, they dance to Dubstep. But do they have to? Dubstep’s the worst!

They’ll grow to like Ska, I think, we just have to explain it to them.

Hey you, don’t listen to that, listen to this!

Policy Change

Upon our arrival at work, the front of house staff were handed small, silenced pistols and told that, going forward, we would be expected to, on occasion, execute our customers gangland style.

It was hoped that this would provide a simple, elegant solution to the guests who got too drunk, spoke too loudly, and generally disrupted their neighbors enjoyment of their meals. According to our new policy: At the request of a customer, we would drag the offending patron out into the parking lot, put a bullet in them, and toss their body into a specially marked biohazard dumpster located to the side of the building for later disposal before cleaning up any blood that might have spattered on us, hygene is important in food service, and returning to our duties, allowing other customers to enjoy their dinner in well deserved peace.

The restaurant’s lawyers, we were assured, had already worked out the various thorny legal details. There would be no consequences to us personally for the people we were asked to kill.

Nor should there be. It’s just a job after all, and minimum wage plus tips isn’t worth going to court over.

It seemed, we reflected, the sort of scheme that might actually work. After all, it’s only a few rowdy patrons who ruin the evening for everyone else. Nonetheless, we were naturally profoundly uncomfortable at the prospect.

Not uncomfortable that we’d be expected to commit murder, mind you, it’s the dream of every waiter to be allowed to kill the occasional guest. Rather, uncomfortable at how the decision as to who needed to die would be made.

We’re fine with killing customers.

We just don’t want YOU to choose who lives or dies…