The World of Myth Magazine

She waits at the ocean's edge Sand shifts, indents. Her footprint will be Left there for perpetuity—bequeathed to the old life The only thing left of her.

The child by her side holds her Hand tightly. Tiny face, wet tears pressed Against her arm; woe streaks the grime; his mourn for the old life The only thing he can give.

Heavens brighten. Alien Ships descend. Sand whips. Terror reigns. Shrill voices scream as the world passes sub-zero.

Waves cease.

Abrupt silence.

Existence wiped.

-