It was 2009 and the sky was burning

 Flash fiction…Monday. Enjoy. 

It was 2009 and the sky was burning

It was 2009 and the sky was burning. Flaming clouds covered the horizon with their yellow-orange color, whilst others were smoldering in purple-blue, disappearing, and melting into the vast.

Fire danced on the streets as well, on what was left from the buildings, on fallen threes, on the faces and clothes of hundreds of people screaming, running.

Flaming rain was pouring from the sky.

It rained upon us from the thousands of thousands small ships that were in contrast with the seeking hideout people below.

Our cities were thundering, and shaking, and crumbling as the Martian ships continue to light up the sky with flames, slowly tumbling it towards the ground.

2009 was the year in which we found out we are not alone and in which we died terrified and confused and still stubbornly refusing to accept the fact that Martians, or aliens as a whole are not simply someone’s imagination.

They turned our world into a half-hour, ultrasound symphony, with fireworks and cascades, with blood and dust and then were gone leaving only…blood and dust.

Taken from the archives of the last living among the others dead M.K

People are clever. They are sneaky in many ways.

Some have remained after the attack. A few always do, and they are just enough to reproduce and start crawling again on their destroyed planet, creating some sort of comfort out of the total chaos; some order to adjust with their messed up brains at the moment.

Then after some time the cities are back to being cities and the offspring of that survived group Homo sapiens has filled up the pages of the newly added register.

Basically everything is back to normal; the sky is blue and all. And it’s quiet.

However there is this reminder, a little piece of old paper folded into four, which tells the story of the last moment of the mighty human race, not as an elegy or a poem but as a simple objective observation of the happening written in past tense by a man hidden from the wrecks in the possession of a pen and a ragged paper. Truth be told, it probably has been rewritten a couple of times, but the main sense of it is still there- some very nice and simple details of how it all suddenly ends. Reality check.

Now this is the only existing archive or as everyone sees it as -the Holly bible of the new people. Do we all believe it to be genuine, to be true, or not…hard to tell. Some do. Some don’t. Absolutely human behavior, never can decide on one thing.

But of course there is this tall, massive monument in the centre of the First city, reminding vividly what had happened in 2009, with no names, only date and year. No one remembers the names really.

It took only one look for those who hadn’t attended to know that something had happened.

And yet again a part of them believed that someone’s imagination had exaggerated, colored a bit the end of the Ancient World, adding the presence of some aliens, more particularly Martians.

Something had wiped out our ancestors, undoubtedly, but human war, or some disease. Just an old-fashioned way for everyone to die.

The aliens were now just a legend told by the elders, the founders and taken away by the parents too. Aliens were the new monsters under children’s beds and in their closets just like Boogeyman had been in the past. They were simply a tale, a fiction bedtime story to frighten the little ones.

Alas no.

Now the year is 2322 and the sky is burning again. Flaming clouds illuminate high above, licking the visible horizon with fiery tongues. To the west, falling. fading like smoke, are other clouds. Dead ones. Grey ones. Or purplish-blue.

Furious little alien ships are carving Tic-Tac-Toe on our homes, our streets, while our families and friends run, screaming.

Behind them, ponderously making its way through the sea of burning clouds the Mother ship arrives, huge and silver, shading the day with its humongous body. It roars.

I, a living amongst dead in the possession of writing attributes quickly draw a sad and bitter end. It is an end.

And I sincerely doubt that the Martians will repeat the mistake they made 313 years ago.

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