The Creation of Man

John woke and opened the curtains again to a red morning.

That great slow-moving shape was moving down.

Not directly to his home, but rather in a cornfield a mile away was what the government researchers inferred.

It had been there for about two weeks.

As far as John was concerned, he was used to it all.

The red sky (which today had been clear and without fog), the shape, and especially what happened to the people when the shape came.

They had looted and rioted, for they thought that this would be the end of the world.

Little did they know, however, nothing really happened.

Everything was typically the same, despite the massive shape floating from the abyss known as outer space.

John grabbed his cup of coffee and sat down to watch T.V.

TODAY’S NEWS: WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THE GIANT STRUCTURE TOUCHES EARTH?

T.V had become boring. All the news ever talked about was the changes in the sky and the shape.

John never really liked the color blue anyway. He thought the change was interesting.

John changed the channel to Sesame Street for a quick nostalgia kick.

Unfortunately today, the same rerun was playing over and over again like yesterday, and the day before, and repeat:

The “Dealing with Death” episode.

No one looked at the bright side of things anymore.

Everything became so… morbid.

John finally read yesterday’s newspaper and slept.

The process of John’s life would be like this for two months.

Rinse, repeat.

And it was closer still.

As a matter of fact, it was 50 feet in the air.

Johnny could see that the shape was… A hand.

A hand coming from space.

John kept a live-stream on his television showing the hand.

John grabbed the Pabst Blue Ribbon (for a struggling time) and chugged 6 bottles in the span of an hour.

John laughed with insanity and bravery made of fear.

“Take me now, God! I am ready!”

And the hand was closer.

And John cried still.

Then John slept.

John woke in the morning.

Hung over, he ran to his toilet and vomited.

John wiped his mouth, and looked at the T.V.

“Why couldn’t you take me?”, John cried.

The hand had started to deform.

It was pointing at the ground.

The hand seemed, all of a sudden, caring.

“Answer me, damn you!”

The hand had still pointed with its elongated finger.

And the hand was closer still.

The next morning John had seen the finger. It was “three feet away from the ground” according to the newscasters.

John needed to call his mother.

John picked up the phone and dialed his mother’s number.

The phone rang and rang.

“Hello?”

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey? Are you alright? Has the ha-”

“I’m alright, Ma. I just wanted to call and say that I love you very much, and that I miss you and wish that I could see you.”

“It’s alright, honey. We’ll go to heaven if we die”

“Mom! We won’t die, I know so! I just know it!”

“I love you, Johnny.”

“Mom? Don’t hang up don-”

The tone the phone made when hung up started, and felt like it never ended.

“No!”

Johnny threw the phone across the room. He sat in his chair and cried. He felt the end coming.

Johnny looked at the television, now silent.

The finger was about to touch the field.

Yes! It was there! It was-

The hand withdrew. It had completed its job.

The Earth had been populated once again.