(A planet far across the stars)

   I don’t know why, but every time my mind wanders or whenever something is right on the tip of my tongue and I’m racking my brain for that thought I can’t quite grasp, one image pops into my head. It’s always the same, It’s always there. A blazing phoenix, darting across the room alive with it’s bright yellows and bursting reds, awash in flame.

    It was 11:50pm, exactly 10 minutes to midnight so naturally my whole family gathered around the living room table. My father, as always, was seated at the head of the table with his signature expression of stubborn determination. My mother sat next to him saying a silent prayer for innocence. I turn around and see my younger brother sitting promptly on the floor playing with his trucks. He had just turned eight, still under the age of frequent memory loss. The gun was in the middle of the table just as it had been the previous night and the night before, and just like all those other nights everyone, (except of course my father) stared at it with fear and worry in their eyes. Then as alway my father gave the same speech, “Come on, you know it’s better than the alternative… the pain… no one wants that''. After this he pauses, waiting to see if any of us will pick it up. But as usual, no one does. With a sigh my father picks up the gun and points it at his head, then with a loud bang and a collective flinch from everyone in the room. He collapses, lifeless, a cold and hollow husk. He was always the first to go. He was always our rock, but I know that deep down he’s suffering just as much as the rest of us. Next up was my older sister, her expression also one of determination but with a hint of fear… no, sadness. A hint of sadness. Not long after my mother and little brother would join them. Leaving me to myself, alone in a room of hopeless corpses. It’s not as bad as it used to be, now I don’t cry anymore. I pick up the gun, and turn to see that the clock says it’s 11:59pm. I close my eyes tight, summon all of my courage, and raise the gun. I pull the trigger, Bang! I’m dead. 

       All of this may sound dark but that’s just how it is to live in a world that never ceases to end in a dramatic flash of fire only to be reborn the next day. Some say that the destruction only occurs when a sin has been committed, which leaves most people with little hope of breaking the ongoing cycle of annihilation. Although opinions vary on this subject, there are some things that people can agree on. Like how other than a few exceptions no one over the age of 10 remembers what happened in past days before the rebirths and how no one has ever been able to recall the pain of the fiery death itself. Sure, almost everyone can recolect at least a day or two of the year but no one has ever been known to remember even half of it’s events. (However, I suppose I am living proof against that thought.) But somehow everyone always knows, nay, senses the coming obliteration, how this is I (and everyone else for that matter) have no idea. Like the phoenix our world dies each night, only to be reborn at sunrise from out of the ashes.