Apocalypse in Eight Days

On the first day, everything seemed normal.

On the second day, the sun rose, casting its red rays on the fluffy white clouds. Breathtaking, beautiful, an assortment of reds, purples, oranges, and blues. The sky stayed this color the rest of the day.

The third day. The colors of the sky began to blend together, forming a darkish rainbow throughout the whole sky. Coldness, frost covered grass, cars, trees. Both the sun and moon hung in the sky. So bright, so vibrant, so aesthetic.

The fourth day. The air grew thick and humid. It became hard to talk. It became hard to breathe. The oceans are restless. Silence everywhere. The colorful sky grew darker, the moon turned brighter. The sun did not set.

Fifth day. Silence broken. The sound of that terribly annoying high pitched noise like putting your ear next to an old tv. The moon seemed larger. Rain, lots of rain, but the sun still hung in the sky. A pretty rainbow. The air smelled sweet, birds sang. Ocean levels rose, flooded.

Sixth day. The rainbow twisted itself into a wicked smile. The oceans fell. Dryness, heat, paranoia. Paranoia? The moon descended. The sun, still in the sky, changed shapes. It’s a square now. The sound of nails on a chalkboard. Dirty, uncut nails. The smell of cigarettes masked by a sweet perfume.

Seventh. Everything back to normal.

Eighth. The sun rose, casting its red rays on the fluffy white clouds. Breathtaking, beautiful, an assortment of reds, purples, oranges, and blues.

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