Published by: April Despi
Date published: April 23, 2022
Time published: 10:28 AM
Category: Prose
Theme: The World’s End
Synopsis: Regrets, wishes, and more. What would you do if the world decides to give you another chance at making things right?
Toto’s face was colored with shades of purple and pink as the glare of her computer screen continued to shine on her, static and unmoving. It had been exactly three hours since she typed her last word, the cursor blinking on the last letter she wrote, appearing and disappearing in the white space—almost as if it was mocking her lack of drive to finish the assignment she had sworn to turn in today.
It had been an easy question really; a question born out of pure curiosity from their teacher, a question that could have been answered immediately. Toto’s screen read: “If you had the chance to write your autobiography, what would have been your closing statement?”
There was a lot to choose from. She could have been poetic and insisted on saying something like ‘the world will know of my name’ or ‘I hope I will always be remembered’; she could have been funny and wrote down ‘I wish I could bring my cat to the afterlife’; she could have been incredibly dramatic—Toto had a lot of secrets, shallow or deep, humorous or just straight-up horrifying - but sometimes, even if Toto was known for having a soul too big for her body, her own secrets scared her.
She could have just been silent, entirely. It was a language she was the best in.
Even then, her silence could only get her so far, especially in an assignment that required her words.
Toto sat down on the brown leather couch in their living room, pressed the 'turn in' button on the top right of her laptop screen, and listened to the soft ring of the television playing in the background.
In a week, she finished her assignment, turned it in, and didn't reread whatever she had written down.
In a month, the world will end.
—
The first time Toto heard the news, it had been from her mother.
She hadn't believed her so easily. As someone who had been skeptical her whole life, she needed evidence, something reliable to tell her that this phenomenon was actually going to happen. "But didn't this happen before, Mom? The 2012 prediction—and it wasn't real," Toto stopped to exhale as if there was something weighing her down, her shoulders felt quite heavy. "I'm still here. You're still here."
"You," her mom started, uncharacteristically quiet that it was borderline eerie. "You, out of all people, should know that I'll never lie about this, Toto."
And she was right, she always was. Up until the world's end.
The second time, Toto saw the words 'world' and 'end' on a news headline. Something about the atmosphere slowly deteriorating, something about the carelessness of humans—everything about the carelessness of humans.
Toto decided to stop reading the news that day.
In a month, the world will end.
—
It had been painful, to say the least.
Toto called her mom almost every day—if not to bask in the static of the red landline in her ears, then it was to ask her mom how to cook meals for herself. "I didn't know you needed the world to end before you decided to learn how to cook," her mom had chuckled over the line.
Sometimes, she didn't know if the tears came from the onions she had been slicing or from the fact that she'll never have the chance to hug her mom goodbye.
Her mom noticed, though. It was like she knew everything when it came to Toto. Every so often, Toto had heard her breath hitch even just for a second, then she was back to telling her the next step for the recipe.
Toto wished she had done this earlier.
In three weeks, the world will end.
—
It had been a mess outside; people stood atop bridge railings and when Toto tried to look for them in the next second, they were suddenly gone. The skies didn’t look blue anymore, hence Toto decided to stay home for most of the time she had left.
The plants on her windowsill wilted and Toto found it hard to get rid of them.
So, she lets them linger there as if any amount of sunlight could cure them miraculously. She knew within herself that they'd still be brown and slouched even if she watered them, but Toto still sprayed them every morning. consistently. Routine, she'd like to say. Denial, her had answered.
It's not as if she was willingly ignoring what's happening—what's to ignore if all there was left were trees without leaves and deconstructed buildings surrounding her? It's just—well, it was easier to live her last moments if she didn't think of what the end would mean to her.
End. Such a small word for a big thing.
In two weeks, the world will end.
—
Toto should have just let herself starve in the comfort of her own apartment, really. It would have been safer.
Her mom had stopped picking up the phone three days ago and Toto was left with nothing but a landline phone as the last memory of her. The fridge was empty. She had run out of ingredients—and even if she had them, she'd probably kill herself in the process of trying to remember what her mom sounds like rather than the recipes she had been reciting over the phone.
She leisurely walked to the convenience store that was only a few blocks away from her dorm to buy some more food. Instant, this time.
Once she arrived, the cashier did not greet her nor did he spare a glance in her direction. On the way out, Toto insisted on paying, placing the money on the countertop. "You don’t have to pay."
"It's okay," Toto smiled. She looks back and in the process, saw the old man break into a smile too; it's the warmest she'd ever been these days. "Thank you!"
In a week, the world will end.
—
There had been a lot of regrets, Toto thought.
Now that there were mere minutes left before her surroundings destroyed everything within it, Toto wished for a lot of things.
She wished she had just stolen the oranges from the convenience store because she didn't have enough money. She wished she had at least cleaned her room before going here, laying on blankets of grass and under dots of stars. She wished for more time. She wished she had loved more. She wished for silence and noise all at the same time.
She wished to turn on the laptop and rewrite her assignment once again.
She'd most definitely answer a different thing now. Maybe she'd write about how much she loved her mom and how she desperately wished she had the last chance to tell her. Maybe she'd write about the old man in the convenience store, how he embodied the sun with his warmth. Maybe she'd write about herself because she felt different here—the end was so near and yet it felt so far when you were experiencing it alone.
Maybe she'd write something funny, like how the grass tickled her skin as it got harder to breathe.
Here, Toto settled for the last words she'll write in her autobiography.
I'm sorry, Earth. Let me give myself back to you.
The world had ended.
—
The world begins again. It wants to send you a message:
Do it right this time. Save us before it's too late.
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