A Letter From the End of the World

A Letter From the End of the World

November 28^th, 1949

     I understand now, I accept. I will try to spend my time wisely. I will die with my wife, and she with me. That is what we have always wanted, to die together. One could not bear the loss of the other. The television and radio have both stopped broadcasting. The last we heard the time frame was set for next week. When that time has passed the bomb will drop.

     When we first heard the news we were sure it was a hoax. When the reports told us otherwise we began to feel helpless, we cried. I remember the last time I felt this helpless. It was the day my mother died. I'm glad she isn't here to see this. In an odd way it's nice to have one less person to worry about.

We were warned last month that this could very well happen, that there was a real chance. We were told to gather with our loved ones. We are half a country away from ours. It is just my wife and I now. We have no way to reach our families. Public transportation has shut down and the riots have made it impossible to safely go outside. We are trapped, like mice.

     Seven days. That is all they gave us to process what will happen. They said that it is the East Coast that is targeted. The West Coast should only receive minimal radiation effects. God bless them, I hope in time they can rebuild what is left of us, once the radiation levels are safe; only a few hundred years. The mid west will have it the worst of all. The blast won't kill them but the radiation will. Many will die long painful deaths. We will have it lucky compared to them. Boston will be a hole, it'll only take a second or two. We will die quick deaths.

December, 2^nd

     I came to terms about everything this morning. I can either die afraid or I can die at peace with myself. You should not fear what is inevitable. When the phones went down I was upset that we had not had an opportunity to call our families; we never said goodbye. Now I understand that it is better this way, our last conversations were joyful.

     I'm writing this for myself. I know this will never survive the furnace of the heat, no more than I will.I wish that there were someway to preserve it, to save it for future generations. I'd like them to know. It's a shame. Each culture has it's own cautionary tales, this is right that is wrong sort of thing. I wish we had listened more closely to them, taken them to heart. We could have done so much with what this world gave us, instead we chose to kill each other.

December 5^th

     It's going to happen today. They said it should be right around dinner time. I hope I can have one last meal with my wife, maybe we will eat early. She is so scared. It's hard to tell her that it's going to be ok, because it won't.

     I've spent the day reflecting on my short time here. There is so much that I've done but I wish that I had done more. I wish that I had seen more of the world; maybe if I had I would better understand all of this. Maybe this world would make more sense.

     I'm beginning to doze off, I have't slept in days. Each time I sleep I expect not to wake up. I don't want to sleep, I will have plenty of time to rest in a few hours. The last few nights I have just been lying there, staring at my wife while she sleeps. I think she is pretending to sleep, she think's it helps me, puts me at ease. 

     I try to shut my eyes but my nerves won't allow it. I can't handle the darkness, not yet.

I remember how happy I was when I graduated. I was thrilled that I wouldn't have to write anything else. This will be the last thing I ever write. This will be the last record of my existence and it will be destroyed. No one will ever see this, I'm beginning to feel that it was pointless to do this.

I'm going to have dinner with my wife.