In Search of Peace
I lie back and stare at the blue sky. It is endless. All around me I heard people talking. A young couple chatting about their life together, making plans and mapping out hopes and dreams that are ultimately destined to fall apart. I see an older couple walking hand in hand. I raise me head from the sand and follow them, the ocean caressing their feet.
A breeze washes over us. A warm rush of air. Nobody notices it but me. I turn around and I see the dark clouds gathered on the horizon, I feel their presence and can sense its approach. I lie back down and for the first time in many years I smile.
The sky grows dark, the sea that had been so calm grew choppy, sand kicked up and swirled through the air in mini tornadoes dancing with each other over the sand.
All around me people began to scream, the whispers of love and life replaced by the shrieks of horror and dismay.
I rose up, the cloud rose higher and higher billowing upwards into a giant mushroom shape.
The noise was deafening, buildings groaned and collapsed to the floor, windows shattered and cars were sent tumbling down the roads like misshapen bowling balls.
The world around us grew grey and everything froze. The air, the people, even the crumbling buildings seem to stop and take a few moments just savor the occasion. That was then the first pressure wave of the blast hit us. The sand was blown from the beach in a wall, trees were ripped from the ground and everybody was thrown to the floor.
I looked over at the couple who had been sharing the day with me and they were already half melted by the heat, their bodies dissolving as if they were made of Styrofoam and being covered with Acetone. Their bones and skin were melting, their arms stretched to the ground, their faces elongated, their hair first smouldered then caught fire. I looked at the others, the elderly could stood hand in hand, their lower body gone, their torso's sinking into the frothy pink sludge that had only seconds before been propelling them through life.
Another wave of pressure hit and they all exploded, a shower of red mist, rubberized bone and organs filled the air and was scattered to the wind.
I felt it all, my body burnt, the skin reddened. It felt as though I stood in a pottery kiln and while all around my the world became brittle and fragmented I simply cooked, covered in the right glaze to make me even stronger.
I reached into the back pocket of my jeans. The material had begun to burn, flames engulfed me but dared not touch my flesh. I pulled out the battered old photograph. Its sepia image so faded by time the faces were almost unrecognizable. It gently stroked each image, the last memories I had of my family. The paper flickered, caught fire and was gone in the blink of an eye. I threw back my arms and cried out, begging for the suffering to end, and darkness over took me.
When I opened my eyes the sky was burning, and all around me the earth had been reduced to rubble. The ground beneath my feet was dry and cracked like an African river bed, my feet burned, the soles blistered and raw. My whole body was red and glistening. I walked the once busy streets naked, my clothes incinerated as was everything and everyone else around me. I fell to my knees and cried. Not because of the pain, I felt no pain, not any more, but because after so many centuries, death would still not come. The curse of being an immortal was permanent, and there was no escaping it.I turned around and looked back at where I had sat. I saw my family, my wife, my two daughters. They stood together, side by side, their bonnets covering the heads, dresses pulling their waists thin while artificially making their hips wide.
I hear them call my name, their voices echo in my mind wherever I roam. I promise them that I will find a way to join them, to end my misery, but all I can do today is once again turn my back on them and walk away.
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