The cold is biting. Fridged air blows across my face, making me feel all the more hollow, as if it's blowing through me. The moon hides behind the thick dark clouds, enveloping the white, snow laden street before me in a shroud of black. I bow my head and stop my pace. I close my eyes. No difference. Closing my eyes, and opening again, it's the same: impenetrable darkness. It's as if the world has suddenly stop existing around me. I contemplate this thought for a moment. What if?
I shake my head at the notion, as my body again reminds me of the harsh chill through a quiver that runs down my back. The whistling wind continues to blow. A second more, and the light of the moon returns, a half crescent of hope. I return to my journey. The thought again comes to me. What if the world did suddenly stop existing? What would happen? What would cause it? It's hard for humans, like myself to picture themselves not existing, though, I'd suppose one couldn't. I'm press my brows together and stroke my chin, as I drift deep into thought. If I were to guess, it'd be much like this street, cold and alone, dark and emotionless.
I feel even more alone by this thought. I press tightly to my coat, and continue walking a quicker pace. I look at the carpet of purity laid before me, stretching endless off into the distance. It's untouched, and the only sign of anyone's presence are the footsteps left from my path. Again, I seem to be reminding myself of just how lonely I am, but I suppose that is the cause of my journey.
A Christmas party. Or was it something else entirely? I'm not sure. Now that I mention it, I'm not exactly sure from where I came. Amnesia? Surprised at my own unknowing, I look up in suspense. The wind immediately responds by removing my black cap, and carrying it off somewhere behind me. I turn and look back from whence I came. My footsteps lead off into the darkness, and it appears that my hat was carries off there, as well. I try to argue in favor of going after it, but it seems futile in the extreme darkness, and my body simply wants to press on. I feel that some poor lost soul will stumble upon the hat, and need it far more than I.
I continue once more on my journey, thinking back to why I set out in the first place, and from where. I know that it had to be someplace far warmer than this. Though I was not lacking appropriate attire, I was not dressed for an extended trek in this weather, by any means. Long black wollen coat, mittens, long, thick pants, and boots that leave deep imprints in the snow. From where I come continues to elude me, as though the thought is dodging my questions. I feel that I know from where I came, but I simply can not make of it. I tire from seeming complexity of the question. To where I'm going, I too, can not recall. A party? For what, I wonder. A time of celebration and joy, merriment and gift giving? What could there be to celebrate on such a cold, lonely evening and does seem that I, undeed, seem to be very alone. the darkness enshrouding my surroundings, as though they themselves are nothing but the dark. Alone.
The biting cold reminds me of just how alone I am. I look around more closely, but there still appears to be nothing but snow and darkness, aside from the half crescent moon, providing hope for this weary traveler. I walk calmly through the snow, leaving careful footprints in my wake. As I do, I come across a black cap. I stop and am a bit stumped by this one lone hat sitting in my path. I, again, look around, and there is no presence other than myself. I wonder what poor soul could have left a single black cap sitting in the snow. The wind blows through me as though I'm hollow. In need of more insulation, I kneel to retrieve the hat. As I do, the moon slips behind the clouds, and I am alone. Indeed, it's as though the world has disappeared. I ponder this notion for a moment. In the dark, I pick up the hat, and place it on my head. As I stand, the moon returns, and I continue my journey, with the thought plaguing my head: What if the World has ended?