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The Party at the End of the World - A Dream Vision and Fragment

Copyright 2012, Paul Hawkins

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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There was a party at the end of the world.

I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a light coming from the center of town. Nobody ever went to the center of town anymore. There had been nothing there alive for a long time. It had been a thing abandoned, a relic of another age, an age of industry and offices, of smoke and banks and steam. But it had been long since dead.

The same blight eventually spread out here, to the suburbs. Cars stopped working - they had been abandoned in the streets. The world stopped working.

We were the last ones. Were we the last ones? No one bothered to check any more. It had been a long time since the only rule of life had been every man for himself.

We made schools - we made clinics. I worked in both. We organized the ways we could - there were enclaves of camaraderie, small bands of charity and protection against the other side. We survived and we loved one another, but the price was high. I saw the light from the center and I went to wake my father. But my father would not wake, and at first I wept but then I thanked the Lord that he had been allowed to go peacefully in his sleep.

I put on my jacket and went outside and wondered at the light. Here and there along the street others emerged from houses and stood looking. Slowly we came into the middle of the street and came together. Slowly, in our unity, we had no fear. It was unexpected. But in the atmosphere we felt collectively we had no fear, that fear was over.

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