No words were spoken that dark night, for what was there to say? Death was fast approaching, in a fiery blast of just genocide. An emotion was floating through the air. It was not sadness, as one might expect. It was not anger, nor was it loneliness, nor despair. This one emotion that so dominated and tormented the minds of every person alive this day was regret. Regret. Regret for having held back all those many years. Regret for not having been all that could have. Regret, over all else, for the human race as a whole.
How disgusting we have become, they thought. How vile and corrupt have we, such a young and ignorant species, become. At no time were these traits more apparent than now. We could have grown into so much more, lived to become such that we were worthy to live on this, such a beautiful planet. But we are not worthy, now. We defiled this wonderful, magnificent Earth, to a point of no return. The fate we await is not God's wrath. It's pest control.
These thoughts were shared by all, but spoken by none. What a slap in the face, to have realized our folly only at the very end. A thought was shared by all, though in different contexts. "Why didn't I?" In the heat of the moment, when faced with a problem, or when presented with something we so desperately desire, it is not an easy thing to reach out and grab it. Heats pounding, sweat flowing, you think, in that awful moment, that it is your own self preventing you from taking it.
One woman, tired and broken, sat leaning on the oft used screen door to her home. No birds chirped. No squirrels chittered, and no dogs barked. All was silent. She sat, alone and apologetic. For she knew. She knew that she had done wrong, that she had sinned.A baby's cry broke the silence that bore so heavily upon her, and she remembered. She remembered every sleepless night spent contemplating true love. She remembered ever time she held his hand, every time she looked into his loving eyes and saw her own beauty reflected. And in that moment of painful remembrance, she remembered every passionate kiss. The one she loved had a different mind about kissing. Each kiss, to him, had meaning. It was not merely a prelude to some higher pleasure, but rather, a message. "I love you," they cried. She had meant everything to him, had been everything his heart desired. He was faithful, never even thinking about hurting her, such an abstract idea it was. But she threw him aside without hesitation. Now she, along with every other that night, fell into silent contemplation. And she felt, above all else, a profound feeling of regret.
How many times had she wanted this? She had constantly wished for death, much to the dismay of those around her, and now, here it was. She was not the religious type, so she knew that this night would mark the ending of her very existence, that there was no life after this one. So ironic was the fact that she did not want to die now.
A miracle of wisdom rushed over her, and she hastened to do that which she knew she must. The sound of the engine of her car seemed the only sound in the world, as she quickly reached her destination. She plowed into the broken down house with a resounding Bang! and stood there, blank faced when she saw her love. Despite the loud intrusion, he sat at a table, and seemed not to notice. Something was wrong, she realized. She noticed he held something, and saw smoke rising from it. She crept up, and her heart skipped a beat upon realization of what it was. A stack of poems, written by her to him, burned in his hand. She stirred, and he paused and sat very still for many moments. Slowly, he turned, for even in such a long absence, he remembered her scent vividly. Any anger, sadness, or betrayal he may have felt for her dissipated instantly as their eyes met, for he knew, as well as she, what her sudden appearance meant. Still as beautiful as the day they met, she eyed him regretfully. No words were said, but both knew in their hearts every word the other could not say. They embraced, and for the last time that fate would allow, shared a kiss that melted away every other detail of the present. A great flash erupted, carrying with it fire and the dying screams of hapless souls. It was not a quick death, and most writhed and burned for minutes, if not hours. But not they. So engrossed were they in their reunion that they ignored the pain. Both knew that this was the end of all things. Both knew that the romance between them burned as passionately as their suffering kin. Both knew that the price of their separation, however great, was worth this blessed serenity as they died in each others arms. Both knew that their love, if nothing else in this world, was eternal. And in the blackness of death, both knew there was no Heaven.
Then, they knew no more.