A strange story that some how made its way here

(Warning:this is very long, but I think it is worth at least gazing over)
Post-apocalyptic. Without meaning they sound quite pleasant, although it is nearly impossible to think of them without immediately thinking 2012 or the Mayans or at least something about an evil disaster destroying the human race and all its achievements.
I wonder what it will look like. With nobody around. No children on swings. No shoppers milling around or tried looking mothers hold babies, nor any kind strangers who do nice things for no real reason except to be nice.
As much as I don’t really mind my impending doom everyone else is running around expecting they’ll live if they get far away enough from the source.
A week ago the international government told the ever chaotic world that they are all going to die. A electric shock or pulse or something will spread over the globe in a matter of days and everyone would simply die, leaving everything intact. At first there was disbelief. but it is very hard not to believe something is true when every government or political leader in the world is sadly shaking his/her head eye downcast saying that it’s true. Then yesterday everyone went mad, started rioting and looting and doing things that spelled out that it was the end of the world and the world was really really pissed off.
now today half the population it fleeing from their homes and into the country either to die in peace and acceptance or to live out their death in the blind hope that they will die. The other half remained in their homes or went to their churches and temples to pray for forgiveness or just to be somewhere with other people.
Spines stick persistently into my back. The sky is blue the trees are green and life at this moment, despite the current doom, doesn’t actually seem that bad, of course a large sum of the people on this earth would disagree with flying colors. But I am content.
The park is deserted. Nobody is here as I stare at the sky that I am sure will fall on me at any moment. I am completely unafraid for some reason. I entertain the idea that I should be up and pledging my allegiance to some god to get into heaven before I die. To me that just doesn’t seem useful.
I am alive. For now. And for now I am going to sit in a park and wait for what ever comes at me.
Nobody knows the approximate time that it will happen all people know is that it will happen today which, might I add, is incredibly unhelpful. I sit up a little and pull myself up so that I’m leaning against a large, old tree. Next to me is my old and battered ipod. If I’m going to die I am going to die with the most appropriate some possible an that means ACDC’s Highway to hell. The government says that we should get some warning before it happens. LIke a crackling in the air or a hell of a lot of static.
I sit and sit and sit pondering the idea of what it would be like. What the silence would be like and what the road would look like.
The whole world a ghost town.
Something crackles and the whole seven billion people hold their breath. For a second I do the same but then I remind my self that I am not afraid and busy myself with putting my ear phones into my ear and pressing the play button.
THe guitar riff starts to blair and I stand, a manic grin spreading, like the electric pulse, across my face. I run to the stone path and start to stamp my feet to the rhythm. As soon as the scream lyrics start up so do I. I stamp my feet as the air crackles with static. I am no longer waiting for the world to end I am embracing simply because this is the more fun alternative. For a second I know that the sun will shine tomorrow and just because I am not there to see it does not mean that it’s beauty is lessened.
Slowly I hear someone else’s shouting voice and another pair of stomping feet on the side walk. Then another and another until the seemingly uninhabited park is a roar of end of the world appreciation.
And then the world ends. It does not end with a bang nor any other form of sound The crackling stops and the world caves in. The edges of my vision fold in to blackness and my body jerks but I keep singing and stamping, because despite all my flaws I want to die doing something.

My name is Ivy and I am not a pretty girl. I am exactly eighteen years old, two months and three days or at least I think. I have absolutely no idea what time it is now. I red hair and green eyes. I am tall and thin and not much of anything. I am simply a girl.
So you can imagine my surprise when I wake up. Something gravely is under my hand. Sand? Dirt? I have not yet opened my eyes and have no wish to. I wonder vacantly if the rest of the world is waking up feeling slightly fazed. Probably.
I think it’s night time and I can’t help but shiver. I’ll need to get up soon and find somewhere to sleep. Of course the child in me almost immediately arks up screaming “but I don’t wanna” nonetheless,I slowly open my eyes.
I have always thought that opening your eyes would always lead to discovering something and almost always that something neither wants you to discover it nor warms you heart when you do. It turns out that I am smack dab in the middle right as rain.
When I open my eyes I see the sky. It is blue. Many people who have occasionally looked up from their phones to gaze at the sky usually find it is,in fact, blue, although it sometimes decides to be a rather depressing grey. For some reason beyond my comprehension this worries me.
I feel hungry and thirsty and cold and wet and generally hard done by. It seems to me that it is incredibly unfair that I am waking up, not dead after all that.
Very, very slowly I sit up. Beside me is a pile of sand. Crisp and white and probably the type that you would find on some tropical island. I can vaguely remember a man being there. Odd.
Hungry.
Hungry, hungry, hungry.
I stand slowly. Where is everyone? There were at least fifteen people here. Piles of sand are scattered around everywhere. My imagination goes haywire trying to make sense of everything. But no it couldn’t be that.
I make my way slowly and some what thoughtfully out of the park finding only piles of sand to fuel my already far fetched theories.
It’s so quiet. Suspiciously like the silence I imagined after everyone was dead.
I felt hazy as I started to walk.
I walked for hours. For hours I searched the city for somebody. Anybody. I’d take my high school english teacher who gave me detention everyday.
I found myself un-dazed surrounded by sand, on a church door step. I am not a believer, nor do I believe that just because it currently seems like the entire human race has turned to sand and I am a little bit hungry that I should suddenly convert.
It does not take a fool to figure out that somehow the world had turned to sand. Well obviously not all the world. Not me and if not me that presumably other people are alive as well. Then again if its just me than there must be like, four hundred people in the world.
The gods must of thought it hilarious that the one girl unafraid of death is alive and everyone else is dead.
And then someone starts to drunkenly sing.

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