The end.

The end. It was closer than I thought. Everything was beginning to hurt, one limb at a time. It was gradual, and it had snuck up on me. My body hurt. It was burned and it was scraped. Some parts were dried to dust and others were so deep under water the pressure began to crush. Outside of my little world turmoil brewed, but time moved on.

The end. It was sad. I had lived for a long time, but not nearly long enough compared to others in my circle. I knew few others in my state, abused beyond help. I felt it coming, and I could only rely on my body to begin repairing itself, every cell working in harmony to heal me. I knew it would not be so easy, looking at the discord and conflict my microorgansims wrecked on me and each other. I thought, with my declining state, that they would be able to put aside their differences and work together. So far, not so good.

The end. It was beginning to come from every direction. My whole environment was heating up, the sun beating on its cage, like Lucifer down in Hell, spitting to get out. The heat death of the galaxy was approaching, and I still wasn’t dead. I was decrepit and sore and exhausted, yet I still lived. My will was gone, but my functions had yet to despair. The microorganisms seemed to be intent on maintaining my state. They had not managed to find a way to fix me. Nevertheless, I loved them for their effort. I think they were beginning to realise it was coming too. Groups of them left my body and they began to disappear. I hope they’re doing well.

The end. It was simply teasing me now. Thousands and thousands of years had passed yet I was still here, toiling in torment. My body was dead. My mind was despairing. Yet I still was not dead. It was happening too slow.

The end. I did not want to die. No one ever does.

The end. Was… apparently further away than it seemed. My body was beginning to heal, I could feel it from my top to my bottom. All my biggest cells were gone, but the smaller microorganisms persisted. Maybe that was the turning point. The troublemakers had to go, so I could begin to thrive again. Put like that it seemed too simple. Perhaps my symptoms of dying had simply been my body raising a ‘fever’. Scaring off the problem. Killing it. I didn’t like it. They were a part of me. One of my defining features. What made me, well, me, compared to the rest of my kind. It didn’t feel right that they got to die whilst I am still here. But really, all energy is recycled, so they didn’t really die. They just became one with my smaller functions. The ones less likely to throw a tantrum. That idea made me happy. They were still with me, just calmer.

The end. It was rapidly falling through time, further and further into the future. It scared me, but it was nice. I mean, it’s never nice having a ‘due date’, but it comforted me to know it was a long way away, especially after everything my body has been through. Now, I felt fresh and healthy in comparison. Everything was almost back to normal. The normal I had had ages ago, before my bodily functions had evolved very far. The system was working though, in its simple state.

The end. It came all at once. Lucifer leapt from his cage and scorched me with his tongues. A solar flare, so hot the air began to explode, burst from the sun. A shock wave of flame washed through the galaxy. I was too close. My new armour crisped immediately and I was subject to the burn of freedom. It was awful. Luckily it was almost over for me now.

The end. It had not happened. The solar flare, so many years ago, was just a warning, like Heimdall’s horn before Ragnarok. I still suffered its damages but there had been no sudden death event since. Lucifer was caged again, and the souls in the sky twinkled happily, where he had raged. The sun was dimmer now, on low charge from its attack. It was sort of nice.

The end. It had happened for some. Others like me were gone. Mourning echoed through highways and all through the sky. I hadn’t known them, but I knew they were younger than me. Everything was wrong.

The end. After all those deaths, the world was beginning to feel much emptier. I was travelling now, towards the nexus. It was where people like me went to die. Now that the others were gone I couldn’t hold myself in place for any longer. Not with the darkness it brought. I was healthier though. I was clean again, and my skin was flourishing. Little systems were beginning to form, assisting my functionality. I didn’t want that though. I didn’t want to hurt anything else with my death. It was mine. For me to mourn. For me to feel. For me to have.

The end. It almost got me. I, like Icarus, flew too close to the sun. But my wings did not melt. My body did not fall. I remained strong, unmovable. The ecosystems on my body did not manage to follow my example. For that, I was guilty. For that, I was glad. It meant that it wouldn’t be my fault when I died, that they died too. I couldn’t hold that in my conscience. They were the last ones to stay with me, and they did not deserve to see me go.

The end. I found it. It is dark, and endless, and welcoming. Magnetic even. I am lonely, but I know that in the darkness I will be at peace. My body is old, older than I know. It is scarred, and damaged, and scorched. It worked tirelessly. It, and I, deserve a rest. Maybe forever.

The end.