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A whisper in time.

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It started with a whisper. A subtle phrase ripening within my conscious mind.

“Devour the world,” it said.

Slowly I rolled out of bed and dragged my limp body across the weathered linoleum floor to the edge of the room. It was almost midday.

“Too early for that,” I thought to myself.

For hours each day I would lay there, half-asleep, staring at the flakes of dust that become visible only in the sunlight, in the decaying ruins of my childhood home, all the while, that voice would gnaw at my mind.

After such an exertion, I needed to take a nap. I struggled for a moment but managed to grasp the wicker basket which lay beside me. Flipping the basket over, I tipped out the corpse of the family dog and kicked it across the floor, before rolling head first into the basket.

For a few minutes I laid there, face down, my body stubbornly refusing to assume a more comfortable position. Eventually, however, I agonizingly shifted myself to one side; it was a tiring process and I soon found myself dozing off again.

It was but three days until the extinction of all life.

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