The end of the world by Sana Vasi

The End of the World “Total annihilation.” The words rang in Charlotte’s head with a force that sent waves of shock coursing through her entire body. She didn’t believe in doomsday predictions. At least, that’s what she told her friends at school after they found her clutching a pamphlet that the preacher had thrust at her in the street. He stood on the corner of a sidewalk; arms crossed, face open, as he recounted the sins of mankind. He was so earnest—so desperate to help strangers understand the wrath of God, that a little part of her couldn’t help but wonder: “What if he’s right?” “Seriously, Charlotte,” her sister, Abby, rolled her eyes from across the table. “How are you still obsessing over this?” She grabbed a slice of bread and stuffed it into her mouth; the crumbs stuck to her upper lip and fell into her long, tangled hair that spooled onto the placemat in front of her. “You’re disgusting,” Charlotte replied. She hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the crumpled brochure—the corners curled in on themselves—before continuing. “And I’m not obsessing. It’s just. It could happen. I mean, it’s not completely beyond the realms of possibility, is it? “Theoretically, yes. I suppose we could all die today. But we could also die tomorrow. Or next month. Or next year. Or fifty years from now. I just don’t think a prophecy from some nut job down the road is going to change that.” “But.” “Oh my God. The sun’s gone down. The day is over. If the world was supposed to end, don’t you think it would have happened by now?” Abby said, exasperated by her younger sister’s naivety. Charlotte shrugged, then bit her lip. Her nails dug crescent moons into the base of her palm. Desperate pleas to repent, and shrieked depictions of judgment day were still imprinted in the back of her mind—a reminder that her life was, in fact, finite. She was subject to the whims of a chaotic universe that didn’t care about the complexities of her fourteen-year-old existence. “Just go to bed, Charlotte. I promise you’ll wake up in the morning.” “You don’t know that.” “Yes, I do.” “No you don’t. You don’t know everything.” “I know this.” Abby exhaled. “Fine. Why don’t we go outside? We can sit on the porch until midnight, and then you can come to my room.” “Really?” Charlotte wavered, one foot already pointed towards the dusty, screen door. Then, she shook her head. “No. It’s okay. I’m tired, and I should probably get started on my homework.” “Are you sure?” “Yeah.” She paused. “But can I still sleep in your room?”