A story of Armageddon.

The ocean left while we were sleeping, swept away who knows where.

It took everything it had left after our arrogance with it, and before long, not a single drop was left here for us. Rain and tap water alike.

Before thirst seized us, the mountains shook themselves awake.

Some stood up — exploding upward to heights we could not fathom, while others crumbled beneath their weight to depths we could not reach.

Endless graves underneath the fire and stone.

When the lungs of the planet began to seize, the wind became a death rattle.

It blusters and pulls and prods and shakes all who are left, a lonely few thousand where billions had been the day before.