Armageddon Notice.

This one is actually complete. But it's not really a story.
t
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The sky is on fire. To the east, I see it. An incandescent ball of fire so hot I cannot even look directly at it. Every time I try to, the primeval explosion sears my eyes and I must look away. A temperature inhuman, a landscape unimaginable awaits our world. It is approaching, and it is beyond our weak, infantile powers to save our world from this ancient monster out of legend and rhyme.




But there are other things on my mind. The lawn must be trimmed. That section by the fence is particularly unkempt. I'll have to get it done by noon, so I can relax with a movie after lunch. I hate working after lunch. Especially with the sun on your back. Its positively infernal today. I mean, it was hot yesterday, but this is almost insane. I wonder whats on the telly today.
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I find it incredible that we as a race spend our every waking day under the sun, an object of almost indescribable power and meaning, a machine from an age so distant it escapes the real of imagination, yet afford it no more than an adjustment of car shades.