The End | By: Nick Roberts | | Category: Short Story - Horror Bookmark and Share

The End

            “I’m finally going to kill you,” the man that calls himself Winston says to the man he has pinned under his right foot.  He looks down at the man on the ground, beaten and out of breath, shivering in the harsh frozen air of the world they now reside. “What does one even think when they hear something…like…that?” Winston asks, chuckling, obviously amused at this long overdue confrontation.

            The man on the ground, stares up at Winston with a fury in his eyes that is slowly burning out.  “I don’t know, Winston...when I think of something clever I’ll say it,” the man called Anton grunts, as he spits some blood and phlegm all over the ice cold pavement. 

            “I would say you have time to think about it…but we both know that’s not the case,” Winston almost remorsefully admits. “After all this time, did you ever think it would be me standing over you today…foot proudly rested on your broken chest?”


            “Do you feel forsaken?”

            “Not yet.”

            “I didn’t think so. You are a fool, you know.”

            “Maybe. But then again…”

            Winston lets out a long breath of accomplishment and looks up from Anton, at the surrounding landscape.  A rugged, frozen terrain of what used to be a dessert stretched out in all directions; an endless old highway running in two directions with marks of what used to be two faded yellow lines painted down the middle.  Winston is disgusted with what he sees.

            This is what you fight for?” he asks, gesturing with his arm at everything around them.

            “There’s more to it then what you could ever see.”

            “LIKE WHAT!!!” Winston howls as he bends over and gets right Anton’s face, the whiteness of his eyes quickly burning into dark red while two sharp teeth poke out from his bottom lip.  Anton, through all his pain and fear and exhaustion, finds the strength to slightly grin at the rise he’s able to get out of Winston.  Winston’s eyes widen and a deep, guttural moan starts pulsating from somewhere inside him as he grabs Anton by his shirt and lifts him up from the ground to meet face to face, Anton’s feet a good foot off the ground.

            Anton stares into the eyes of pure evil and fear starts to boil in his stomach, but he does not show it.  He just continues to look, completely emotionless, Winston’s demonic features no longer hidden under his human costume.

            “Meet me halfway on this old friend,” Winston says speaking English but in a non human voice, “and I promise I will make it easier on you than it has been already.”

            “I don’t have the authority.”

            “WHAT AUTHORITY!? Your kind is gone! You see?” he says as his hand grabs the back of Anton’s head by the hair and twists it so he sees the dilapidated planet.  “There’s no one left! I promise you Anton. I guarantee! No one!”

            “You don’t know for sure.”

            “YES I DO!” Winston bellows as he throws Anton twenty feet down the road, skidding and sliding.  Anton finally comes to a stop, leaving a six foot blood trail.  His left arm is dislocated at the shoulder and most of the flesh is ripped off, pieces of it stuck in the asphalt.  Winston somehow is already kneeling down beside him, staring at all the injuries.

            “This is pathetic. Anton, no one survived what happened. Your quest is meaningless, your rules…are meaningless. There are no more people. No survivors. You are alone. Engage me. Engage me right now, and I’ll make it quick…no more suffering.”

            Anton can hardly move his lips to talk, they are so busted and bloodied…his jaw cracked.  He should not be alive.  But somehow he speaks, coughing and bleeding in between words.  “If my rules…are…so…meaningless, why…can’t…you…kill me?”

            Winston stares at Anton for about five seconds before he decides that enough is enough.  He quickly rises up to his feet, lifts his right foot off the ground, and brings it down hard straight onto Anton’s throat.  He does it again, and again, until there is nothing between his foot and the road.  He looks at the remains and sees that Anton’s head is completely severed from the blood-pumping stump.  Pieces of ground up spine resemble a fine white powder caked into the road.  Anton is dead

            Winston looks around, nervous…as if waiting for something bad to happen.  Nothing does.  A sly grin slowly stretches across his face.  He looks up into the dark cloud-filled sky.  “I knew this would happen! There are no rules! You do not own anything anymore! You’re not even there! I don’t even know who I’m talking to! God? Are you there? Hello? Hah!”

            “You cheated Winston,” a revived Anton says, causing Winston to jump backwards from shock.  Anton’s head was somehow back attached to his neck.  The blood and carnage was still a stain on the road, but Anton was perfectly intact.

            “No!” Winston furiously screams. “I didn’t cheat because there are no survivors! I don’t need you to tell me that before we can fight! Even if there are rules, you being resurrected directly by God would be against them!”

            Anton stands tall and strong now.  “I wasn’t resurrected by him. I don’t know if there even is a god, Winston.”  Suddenly Winston is scared.

            “I came back by my own power!” Anton shouts as what looks like white electricity starts sparking all over his body.

            “That’s impossible, the only way you become powerful is if you defeat me,” Winston yells.

            “Are you that blind? I already have” he says as a brilliant glowing whiteness starts to fill Anton’s eyes.

            Winston cowardly chuckles, “Oh yeah? How so?”

            “Right as you were stomping my throat, I caught my reflection in the ice, and just as my head started to separate from my body, it hit me…I am the last survivor, no one else. There’s no one I was supposed to find. You were right all along.” 

            All of the white streaks of lighting all over Anton’s body quickly absorb into his hands as they stretch out into long sharp, serrated blades.  He continues to walk toward Winston as he makes a slash through the air connecting with Winston’s chest.  The white flames cauterize the flesh leaving a deep smoking black gash two feet long.

            “NO!” Winston screams.

            “Did you really think that evil would triumph?” he asks.  Before the demon can finish the newly formed angel spins around and slices the blade straight through the demon’s neck, sending his head hissing up into the air.  A blinding whiteness expands through all existence, changing the past which in turn creates a new present.  The only thing that troubled the angel as he watched the new civilization grow is what lay in the future.






                                                            The Beginning

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