Fiction, Sydney Poynter
As Sylvia walks down the street, purse in hand, a box of pastries in the other, she lifts her arm up and checks her watch. The time reads 3:35 p.m. “Perfect,” she whispers under her breath, lifting her head back up and looking at the street in front of her. Today is March 22, 2158; and the world is going to end.
Walking towards Sylvia is a blonde woman, whose hair is in a bouffant style. The woman is wearing a bubblegum pink-colored top, paired with tight white, ankle-length trousers. She is carrying a small white dog in her left arm, which looks more like a giant cat from far away. “Sylvia!” The woman exclaims as she approaches her.
“Sylvia, my darling, I’m so glad to see you!” The woman stops as she reaches Sylvia, and Sylvia shyly nods in response, saying “Well hello there Jane, how are you today?”.
Jane smiles, “I’m great,” she takes her free hand to graze Sylvia on her right arm, “And how are you? Big day!” Jane evinces her emotions surrounding the day, displayed with a smile that exposes both rows of her teeth.
“I’m just well,” Sylvia says in response, looks down at the dog in Jane's arms, and reaches out to touch it gingerly. “Oh hi there pup–”
“Marvin,” Jane interrupts. She lifts the dog up a little higher and says, “You can pet him. He was a gift from Marvin, you know, for the end of the world”.
Sylvia pets the dog's face softly while smiling and nodding. “Marvin got you Marvin, I see,” Sylvia says, and Jane laughs. “Well, yes. What did Mickey get you?” She asks in reply.
“Oh, well, we didn’t really know if we should exchange gifts since you know, we won’t be able to use them after…”
“Yes, I know”. Both women laugh, a laugh that borders on discomfort and pleasure.
Sylvia checks her watch again; 4 minutes have passed, making it now 3:39 p.m. “Well, I better get going”.
“Oh, of course,” Jane replies, touching Sylvia’s arm again. “Sylvia, honey, it was so good to see you one last time,” she says, smiling large once again.
“You too,” Sylvia replies, looking down. “Tell Marvin I said hello, and goodbye!” Sylvia and Jane laugh again. “It was nice meeting you, little Marvin.” Sylvia says to the dog, bending down slightly to pet it once more.
“Well, Ciao!” Jane exclaims,
“Ciao,” Sylvia replies, parting from Jane. As she walks towards her home, she takes in the space around her one last time. She stops every few feet to take special notice of her favorite shops and bakeries, looking through the windows at the empty storefronts. On each door, a sign hangs that says something along the lines of “CLOSED. Enjoy the end of the world, folks!” in bold, script lettering. In these brief moments, Sylvia wishes the businesses weren’t all closed, just so she could see the friendly faces of the owners and staff one last time.
When Sylvia reaches her street, she sees many of her neighbors coming home, most driving in with brand new cars, all shiny and bright–all of which have a big red bow on the roof. As she nears her home, she spots her neighbor Tim, who has just pulled into the driveway next to hers. “Tim!” She exclaims, and he waves back. “Like my new vehicle?” He says, smiling and patting the driver's door as he gets out. “It’s beautiful,” Sylvia says, walking towards him and the shiny new vehicle. “What is it?”
“This here is a brand new Ford Thunderbird, brand-spankin’ new, never been driven before”. He says, patting the car again.
“Well, I love it. Is Felicity home?” Sylvia asks, looking between Tim and their home.
“Oh, not yet, you know how it is. Last day on Earth, gotta get her hair done,” He replies and Sylvia giggles, touching her own hair. “Ditto!” She exclaims.
“Well, I better get going inside. I’m making Mickey a wonderful dinner for the occasion. Tell Felicity I said hello, won’t you?”
“You got it,” Tim replies. As Sylvia heads toward her front door, she suddenly stops and turns back around. “Tim?” She calls out. He stops just at his front door,
“Yeah?” he calls back.
“It was nice knowing you.” She says, her voice slightly wavering.
“You too,” he replies, smiling, and walks in the front door.
As she gazes in the mirror, Sylvia adds her final touches, finishing up the look she has prepared for and has even named “the end of days” look. She puts her pearl earrings on and remembers that these were the earrings Mickey bought as a wedding gift, 9 years ago. She pauses and reminisces on that time as she looks at herself in the mirror, remembering how young and eager they once were to get hitched–21 and just married. She chuckles to herself as she remembers the rumors that went around town, how so many people had approached her asking her when her due date was, and all she could tell them was that they weren’t pregnant, in fact, just deeply in love.
Sylvia reflects on how she and Mickey always intended to have children, but the time never felt right. And when it finally started to, the announcement came. Ironically, it came just after their first conversation about a baby in years; both bold, unstoppable, and life-changing. As she thinks about that day, she glances down at the vanity counter, remembering how loud the message came through the radio speakers. The message was loud, clear, and nerve-wracking:
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!
WE HAVE A VERY URGENT MESSAGE FOR YOU.
WE JUST GOT A REPORT IN FROM THE PRESIDENT THAT AS OF MARCH 22, 2158,
THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT WILL COME TO AN END.
WE ASK YOU NOT TO PANIC.
ALL LOCAL AUTHORITIES HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED AND WILL TAKE NECESSARY ACTION.
WE WILL KEEP YOU UPDATED AS MORE INFORMATION IS REPORTED.
As they listened to the announcement that day, Sylvia and Mickey sat on their couch, unsure of what to say. All they knew was March 22, 2158 was less than 12 months away, and that the idea of having a child and raising a family was gone. The following day, they went to the local shelter, adopted the youngest dog they could find, and gave it the name Sylvia always dreamed of naming her baby boy: Henry.
The faint Ding! of the oven timer rips Sylvia out of her trance. She gathers herself to run down the steps urgently to get the ham out of the oven. She scurries to the kitchen, grabs her oven mitts from the drawer, puts them on, and opens the oven. The smell of warm, baked ham engulfs the room as Sylvia pulls the pan out of the oven. She places the pan down on the stovetop and bumps the oven door shut with her hip, shedding her hands of her baby blue oven mitts. She places the mitts on the countertop beside the stovetop and glances at the clock hanging in her kitchen; it reads 5:45 p.m. She thinks to herself, Mickey should get home any time now. She sighs with pleasure, grabs the small bowl of ham glaze, and brushes the glaze onto the ham; leaving it shiny, a golden brown-pink hue, and appetizing.
She walks into the dining room with a few pieces of china, setting them down gently on their dining room table. Sylvia gazes at the table and thinks of the day she and Mickey had bought it together; just a short month after they got married. They chose the table with the darkest, shiniest wood because Mickey had found it to look “sophisticated”, but the table was soon covered up by a tablecloth, bought by Sylvia's mother, who thought that having a table free of a cloth was a “disaster waiting to happen”--as she called it. So, the tablecloth remained, to Mickey's dismay. He always told her that he thought it clashed with their chartreuse-colored walls, and that the dark wood paired with the walls so much nicer. Still, Sylvia kept the tablecloth on, afraid of what may have happened to the wood if she hadn’t.
Sylvia places the china down on one of the seats, deciding to remove the tablecloth for good. She thinks, Well, we’re gonna die anyway. Might as well make Mickey happy these last moments. After removing the tablecloth, she places the china gently on the table, a plate on each end of the long, oval top. She quickly grabs some candles from the kitchen and places them in the middle of the table, lighting them, then brings in the feast: the glazed ham, green bean casserole, peas, and potatoes. To drink, she has the ingredients for vodka martinis, her and Mickey’s favorite drink, set out. She keeps dessert sitting in the fridge: a freshly baked coconut cream pie.
As she looks over the table, set and ready for her and Mickey’s feast, she suddenly remembers her pastries and jumps. “Oh!” She exclaims to herself, “I almost forgot” she says, now looking down at Henry. She runs to the kitchen and quickly plates the pastries onto a platter, organizing the strawberry muffins, glazed donuts, and chocolate chip cookies nicely. She looks up and glances at the clock again, it now reads 6:07 p.m. “Hmm,” she murmurs to herself, looking down at Henry, who had followed her into the kitchen. “He’s late”, she says to herself; then says to Henry, “Where’s your daddy, huh? He’s late” in a soft, baby-like tone.
She walks over to the phone, grabs its light blue receiver, and dials his work phone number. She allows the phone to ring once… twice… three times… four times… five…. then finally gives up and hangs up, putting the phone back up on the wall. She walks into her living room and turns on the radio, listening to the announcer speak about the night's upcoming events. As she listens, she sits on her couch, looking around her living room with Henry by her side. The radio radiates through the space, filling the silence that Mickey’s absence has brought.
AND… FOLKS, WE’RE ON OUR FINAL HOURS HERE. RIGHT NOW, IT IS 6:10 p.m ON MARCH 22, 2158.
RIGHT NOW, WE HAVE SOME EVENTS HAPPENING HERE THROUGHOUT TOWN.
IN THE PARK, WE HAVE A CANDLE-LIGHTING SERVICE HAPPENING FOR ALL THE LIVES LOST FROM TONIGHT’S EVENT.
THE ART MUSEUM IS ALSO HOSTING A SPECIAL EXHIBIT, BASED ON THE ARTWORK THAT LOCALS HAVE MADE EVER SINCE THE ANNOUNCEMENT.
THE LOCAL WINERY IS HAVING A WINE-TASTING EVENT, FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO GO OUT PROPERLY MEDICATED.
AND FOR THOSE WHO HAVE CHILDREN, ALL LOCAL ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS ARE HOSTING AN “END OF DAYS” BLOCK PARTY, SO THAT THE KIDDOS HAVE A GOOD LAST NIGHT.
STAY TUNED, FOLLOWING THE MUSIC, FOR MORE UPDATES AND EVENTS AROUND THE TRI-STATE AREA.
AND REMEMBER…
ENJOY YOUR EVENING.
Sylvia listens to the man speaking on the radio, whose voice is bright and optimistic as she looks around the room. The room is bright and lively, with nothing existing without color. The walls are a light yellow to match the dining room, and her couch is soft and plush–and also vibrantly orange. On the mantle, photographs of her and Mickey on their wedding day sit in their frames. Sylvia peers at them from the couch. As she looks at the pictures, her eyes begin to well up in tears.
Ring! Goes the phone, jolting her out of her emotional state. Ring! It blares again throughout the house, causing her to jump up and run to the kitchen. As it rings a third time, Sylvia grabs the receiver, and pushes out a breathy “Hello?”.
“Hey, honey,” comes Mickey’s voice through the phone. “Why do you sound so out of breath?” he asks.
“Oh, I just ran to grab the phone,” she replies. “Oh Mickey, it’s so good to hear your voice. I tried calling your office but there was no answer,” she says. “I was just wondering when you’ll be making it home. I know you said 6:00, but it’s-“ She looks up at the clock again, it reads the time 6:19 p.m. “It’s 6:19…” she begins to say, but Mickey cuts her off.
“Yes, honey, I know. I’m sorry I’m late. I just stopped by to see Joe,” he says cheerfully, and Sylvia’s heart drops.
“Stopped to see Joe?” She inquires, curious of his motives.
“Yes, well honey, I know you’d understand,” he begins to say, and pauses. “We’ve been best friends since we were little and well… I wanted to say goodbye. I thought it was important.”
Sylvia nods to herself, “That’s fine, when will you be home?”
“I should be fairly soon. We’re just going to play a game of cards real quick, for one last short game night.”
Sylvia’s head begins to spin at this statement, and she asks him sharply, “Just you and Joe? That- that’s not your usual game…”
“Yes, I know, well Mark just came over as well, and Ted is supposedly on his way as well, so it shouldn’t really be too long.”
Sylvia stays silent on the other end of the phone, taking in this information. She looks at the ham, sitting on the dining room table, growing cold. “How late…? When will you be…?”
“Count on me by 8:00,” he says.
Sylvia looks at the clock again, which now reads 6:26 p.m. She taps her foot impatiently as Mickey speaks, but keeps her sweet disposition, hoping to not ruin the night.
“Of course, honey, just have a good game night.” “Sylvia?”
“Yes, Mickey?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Now just hurry home, I miss you." “Of course.”
Sylvia hangs up the phone and lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders moving up and down with her exhale. She shakes off her frustration, brushing the skirt of her dress down, and looks down at Henry. “Well, I guess it’s just me and you for now, kiddo,” she says to the dog, bending down to pet him and allowing him to lick her hands. To pass the time, she sits back on the couch and decides to grab her favorite book, “The Lord of the Rings”, sitting out on the coffee table. She opens it up from the beginning and begins to read it. She had meant to re-read it once again before the world ended but had lost track of time. As angry as she finds herself in this moment, she realizes that it is the perfect time to settle down and read the book one last time.
She quickly becomes engulfed in the world, forgetting all of her troubles and the impending doom that hovers above her and everyone she has ever met. She forgets about Mickey and the world ending. She forgets about the fact they never had children and Mickey’s lack of interest in her over the past years. She forgets about the pangs she felt when her friends would tell her the good news of their pregnancies and the romantic gestures their husbands did for them; while she had none of those experiences herself. Instead of pain and disappointment, she allows herself to be swallowed by the story and feels a sense of peace rushing over her.
Sylvia is jolted awake by a loud Ring! Ring! Ring! throughout the house. She snaps her eyes open and stumbles to the kitchen, answering the phone.
“Hello?” She asks once again, still groggy from her sleep.
“Sylvia, honey, look, I know I’m late, I’m sorry. The game is running a little long. And we really just want to appreciate this moment, you know?” Sylvia shifts her eyes to the clock in her kitchen, and the time is now 8:39 p.m. She does not respond.
“Sylvia?” Mickey’s voice emerges from the receiver. “Honey, please don’t be upset”.
She clears her throat, “No, no, that’s okay. Just please get home soon, okay?”
“Of course,” Mickey replies, “I’ll see you soon. Call Joe’s phone if you need anything.”
“Yes, of course,” Sylvia responds, “I’ll see you soon.”.
She stumbles back to the dining room and blows out the candles, which have burned a fair amount by this point. She grabs the pan holding the ham and brings it back to the kitchen, placing it on the stove and preheating it to 350 degrees. She knows reheating the ham will possibly cause it to dry out, but she begins to not care. It is his fault, after all, she thinks, he’s the one who decided to come home over two hours late.
She walks up the stairs to freshen herself up from her nap, Henry following at her feet. She walks into the bedroom, clicks on a lamp, and sits at her vanity. She looks down at the dog again and says, “At least I have you to keep me company”. Henry seems to understand her speech and whines in response. She leans down, pets him on the head, and looks back up in the mirror. Her makeup is surprisingly messy for a simple nap. Her foundation seems to be faded, her lipstick is almost completely gone, and her blush is nearly nonexistent at this point; leaving her skin pale and without color. Down her cheeks, a few black lines run from her mascara. She hadn’t recalled crying in her sleep, but given the emotions that had been emerging throughout the night, she finds herself not surprised by this discovery.
Her hair, what was once in perfectly neat waves, is now frizzy and messy. She grabs a brush and smoothes the frizz down, fixing her hair, but brushing some of the beautiful curls out in the process. She assesses herself in the mirror and points out all of the things she must do to fix her “end of days” look. She decides that the first step would be to remove the mascara from her cheeks, so she runs to the bathroom, grabs some tissue, and begins dabbing at her skin where the lines run.
As she cleans her cheeks of the mascara, she takes in her features underneath the bright, sterile lighting of her bathroom. She looks at her skin, fair and freckled, and her smooth, lightly curled strawberry-blonde hair. She reflects on how during her adolescence, she always hated the slight red tint her hair always held, yet it was the one thing that attracted Mickey to her the first time they met. She suddenly forces a smile at her own reflection, and just as quickly drops it. She allows herself to be honest with her emotions for the first time since the announcement came, and sits herself on the toilet seat, beginning to weep.
Henry, hearing her cries, waddles into the bathroom, sitting down in front of her and looking at her. “Oh, Henry,” she says through her sobs, “Where did it all go wrong?”. The dog continues to sit and stare at her, and she continues.
“I just wanted to be a happy…” sob,
“Family,” sob.
“Now, I’m not even sure if Mickey loves me anymore. I’m not as interesting as his friends or his card games, or the people he works with,” sob,
“I just wanted one last night with him,” sob,
“One last good night, like how we used to be.” sob.
She allows her emotions to flow out of her, not caring about her “end of days” makeup or the questions Mickey will ask upon her appearance when he arrives home. She allows herself to cry over her lack of motherhood and her failed marriage with Mickey. She allows herself to cry over the fact that this would be her last night on earth, spent mostly alone, crying in the bathroom next to an overweight dachshund named Henry, who would be the only child she ever cared for.
As her cries wind down to a stop, she hears the phone ring one last time. Instead of rushing to grab it, she walks slowly down the stairs and grabs it after its 10th Ring!
“Hello?” She says into the receiver, her voice tired and dull.
“Sylvia, good, you answered. I am so sorry,” Mickey’s voice says through the phone.
“Oh, that’s fine,” Sylvia responds, glancing at the clock. “It’s 9:07, are you coming home?”
Mickey pauses, and there is silence over the phone. “The game is going a little longer than expected,” he starts slowly.
“Uh huh,” Sylvia responds. “Just tell me Mickey, are… you… coming… home…?”
Mickey is silent once again, then says hesitantly, “I’m sorry honey, I can’t make it to the end of the world.”
Sylvia does not respond and instead takes this information in. She breathes in heavily, then exhales into the phone. “That is fine,” she says.
“I wanted to call to tell you that I love you…” Mickey begins to say.
“Uh huh… Love you too Mickey, goodbye now.” She says and hangs up the phone, not giving him a chance to say any more.
“Well, Henry, do you like glazed ham?” She says, looking down at the dog by her feet. Henry only wags his tail in response, and she places the ham back into the oven to reheat it. The time is now 9:10, and the end of the world is set to happen at 10:00 sharp, in just 50 short minutes. Sylvia calculates her time and realizes that if she heats the ham up for 20 minutes, dinner will be ready at 9:30, she can eat until 9:50, and then spend her last 10 minutes reading, with Henry in her lap.
As she lets the ham heat up again, she pours herself a vodka martini, while snacking on a glazed donut. She never would have done this before but realizes that in 50 short minutes, none of her decisions will matter, so she allows herself to indulge.
She sits back on the couch with Henry on her lap, listening to the radio. On the radio music softly plays, until the announcer's voice cuts in again, loud and shrill compared to the soothing music from before.
THIS IS IT, EVERYONE!
WE ARE DOWN TO THE FINAL HOUR,
JUST 45 MINUTES LEFT TO GO UNTIL THE END COMES.
I WANT TO THANK EVERYONE FOR TUNING IN TONIGHT
AND FOR MAKING TONIGHT SUCH A MEMORABLE NIGHT FOR US ALL.
PERSONALLY, I WANT TO THANK MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY FOR ALWAYS BEING THERE FOR ME,
AND I WANT TO THANK ALL OF THE LISTENERS, TOO, FOR ALLOWING ME TO BE YOUR RADIO HOST EVERY DAY.
NOW, BACK TO THE MUSIC.
She listens to the music, lying her head back on the back of the couch. She pets Henry in her lap, who is oblivious to everything happening around him. The oven timer Dings! shortly, and Sylvia realizes that time has passed quicker than she realized.
She goes to the kitchen and pulls the ham out, then brings it to the dining room. She sets it down and begins to cut it into thin strips, placing some on her plate. She grabs the plate set out for Mickey and puts 3 slices of ham on it along with some green bean casserole and potatoes and places it on the floor, allowing Henry to have a delicious final meal. She sits at the table with the plate in front of her, lifts her glass to cheers! herself, and swallows the drink in one gulp. She gets up and pours herself another, then sits back down and begins to enjoy her meal. “Mmm,” she says. “If only Mickey didn’t miss out. I really have outdone myself.” Her mouth is full as she speaks, but she fails to recognize this or be fazed by this behavior. “Well,” she says, looking down. “At least you’ve enjoyed it.”
She slows her eating and allows herself to enjoy the moment. She enjoys the soft music in the background, the soft noises of Henry eating, and the clean, polished decorating of her home. As she looks around, she gives herself recognition, saying “At least I did one thing right,” she pauses. “At least I have the best-looking house of everyone I know”. She cheers to that in the air and finishes her second drink. The announcer comes back on the radio one last time, his voice booming through the living room and into the dining room where Sylvia and Henry sit.
ALRIGHT EVERYONE,
THIS WILL BE MY LAST MESSAGE.
IT IS 9:50, AND WE HAVE 10 MINUTES TO GO.
DO ME A FAVOR, WILL YA?
HUG YOUR LOVED ONES FOR ME.
YOUR HUSBAND, YOUR WIFE,
YOUR KIDS.
AND ONE MORE THING BEFORE I GO…
HAVE A HAPPY END OF THE WORLD.
THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS LISTENED,
THIS IS GEORGE C.,
SIGNING OFF.
And with that, the radio goes silent. Soft elevator music begins to play and Sylvia grabs Henry as she walks into the living room. She looks out of her front window and into her neighbor's windows watching them spend their last 10 minutes happily. She watches as her neighbors Eileen and Frank sit with their children on their couch, and as her other neighbors, Alice and Edmund, sit on their front porch cuddled up together.
She watches them for the last few minutes, completely forgetting about her plans to read. Instead, she thinks about them and wonders how they’re feeling. At this moment, she feels comforted by their slight presence. Even in the absence of Mickey, she feels calm. She allows herself to lose track of time as she stands in her window, holding Henry, stroking his back gently and reflecting on her experiences. She thinks about the good that has filled her life and the loneliness that has taken over the last couple of years. She realizes in that moment she has made peace with it; and thinks to herself, This is enough right here.
Then, at that moment, the world goes black.
Sydney Poynter fell in love with writing as a child, and has yet to recover. She is a 20-something writer based in Cincinnati, Ohio, and has a bachelor's in English at the University of Cincinnati, focusing on Creative Writing and Literature. With a background as a Copywriter, she is now pursuing her dream of becoming a published author, aiming to become a career novelist. In her free time, you can find her reading, enjoying a coffee at her local coffee shop, and snuggling her two cats.
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