Sunlight Gone by Oliver Meres
The music was pouring through the apartment.
I was lying on my bed with my arms stretched wide and the silhouettes of my surroundings were my only company. It was dark. Only the blue light of a distant lamp cast shadows on the bedroom floor.
I realized that the darker it got, the more I noticed the music. In the silent darkness, I could hear even the slightest changes and variations of the sound, all of the little details that I usually don’t notice at all. It was almost as if I could touch the sound itself travelling throughout the room.
Maybe it was also because I tried to focus. Maybe because nothing else mattered at that moment.
The night already lasted for too long. All of the plants in the window were slowly dying, leaving behind only dry, dead, paper-like brown leaves as a memory of something that was once green.
Two days earlier, I had woken up with a feeling that something was wrong. Not only did I feel suspiciously rested, but when I looked out of the window, there was no sign of sunrise. I looked at my watch – it said it was noon. I figured it was broken, so I checked the living room clock.
Cold shivers ran up my spine as I realized it really was noon like any other, except one thing – there was no sun outside. I didn’t know what to do. Panic? Act like nothing happened? I wasn’t prepared for anything like this. Nobody was.
It all went downhill since then. People were confused, scientists came up with pretty much nothing, everyone was just observing the night all around, everyone was just...waiting. Waiting for what was going to come, and fearing that there was nothing to come at all.
Now it seems it’s going to be just like this. The question is for how long. I’m no optimist when it comes to matters like this, and indeed, it’s not an optimistic situation at all. Every further minute of darkness is a nail to the coffin of mankind. But what can we do? All we can do is wait. And pray, if we still have the balls to believe.
Maybe when I wake up I’ll be blinded by sunlight. Who knows.
All I can do now is lie here like this and listen to the music. Maybe these are the last minutes of music I will hear, so I’ll try not to spoil them with dreadful thoughts.
There’s nothing more I can do.