Sunday without God

By Jacob Wilkinson - Year 11, Cromwell College

The air is thick with death and decay.

Rotting corpses litter the streets of a city reduced to ruins.

Grass replaced by dirt. Great oaks replaced by withered logs. Cars are left abandoned in the streets, broken and collecting rust.

Thick black clouds cover the sky.

Huge ravines crack through the ground, seeping magma like a flow of blood running from a cut in the earth.

The only thing left is a single rose, standing tall amongst the chaos.

And to think that this was once a beautiful and prosperous town.

There were once beautiful gardens with all sorts of flowers.

Parks with children laughing and playing without a care in the world.

Lovely neighbourhoods where everyone was kind to one another.

It was truly a perfect town.

But all good things must come to an end.

This perfect town was insignificant compared to the evil that clutched to the rest of the world.

God looked at what his creation had become, with disappointment.

He shook his head and said: "This world has been consumed by sin. There is no hope left for it. I must abandon it and start again.''

When God abandoned it, the world collapsed into chaos.

The ground shook violently, cities fell apart, great mountains were turned to rubble and the world was brought to its knees.

Everything was destroyed, nothing was left standing, not even the little town that still retained its innocence.

Nothing was spared from the destruction. Nothing moved amongst the cracked and uneven road. Nothing but the rose encased by the last remaining ray of sunlight.

As the sky darkened, the clouds closed over the ray of light, leaving the rose to wilt and decay into dust.

A man rose from amongst the rubble, wearing a black suit, his black hair slicked back with a goatee to match it and a pair of horns protruding from the top of his red face.

"This will be a perfect place to settle down and call home,'' he says in a deep icy voice.