The World After

By Nur Dinie Asfa

The world ended yesterday.

My name is Cassie Williams, and I’m a survivor of the City Killer of 2072.

The scientists assured us the asteroid had a ‘close-to-zero’ chance of hitting Earth. We should have known better than to trust them. I still remember where I was when it hit.

My class was on a field trip. We were at a museum, learning about dinosaurs and stuff. Ironic, since we were about to be hit with the same thing that wiped them out. When the news hit, my teacher rushed the class to somewhere safe. It was a miracle that there happened to be a bunker nearby. Not everyone was as lucky.

When they finally released us, I rushed to go home. Or what was left of it. Everything was destroyed. The roof I had grown up under. The living room where my sister and I would play. The walls lined with frames of memories. All of it, gone.

And my family was nowhere to be found.

The asteroid only affected New York. So no, the world didn’t really end. But as far as I’m concerned, mine did.

I don’t know how long I sat there in what used to be our yard, now littered with debris. I couldn’t even cry. It was all ripped away from me so fast, my brain seemed to struggle to catch up with the hole in my heart.

Someone eventually found me, and I was taken away to some place where all the refugees were staying. I wasn’t the only one who had lost family.

Everywhere around me, there were people looking for their loved ones. Some managed to reunite with theirs. Some stood alone. I stood alone. Before I found James.

James was a classmate of mine. I found him in the crowd, asking people if they had seen his family. I pitied him, so I went over. We asked around together, and only gave up when we went up to one of the guards and they said his family wasn’t in the system. He cried, and I stayed by his side comforting him numbly.

We’re both alone now. But we’re alone together, at least.

— 

The world ended last year.

I stand in front of the Williams’ grave. There were no bodies to be buried, so we made do. It was a tall marble grave reaching my hip, my family’s names etched onto the surface. I place my chrysanthemums on the ground beside it. Mama loved chrysanthemums.

I still miss them. I still weep on the nights that feel particularly cold without them. I still mourn the birthdays, the Mother’s Days and Father’s Days. The pain hasn’t gotten better, but I’ve grown to handle it better.

I hear the crunch of grass behind me, and I know it’s James. He comes to stand beside me, slipping his hand into mine. I give it a squeeze. It’s easier to bear the pain when he’s there.

Yes, my world did end last year. But I think I can start building a new one, one small piece at a time.

By Nur Dinie Asfa