Apocalypse by water take two

For some reason, we all knew when the world would end, but no one knew how it would end. (It turns out we were actually one day off, and initially celebrated only to find out that it was really the next day).

Some people thought the sun would suddenly become so overpoweringly hot and bright that it would melt our retinas and we’d all just somehow disappear in this blinding white light. This way wasn’t so bad really. For some reason, there was no melting involved, no worrying about the extreme heat that would inevitably accompany the sun. People ran around on the beach, wearing these huge, dark glasses, specially made for the occasion.

Other people had other theories.

At one point, we discussed that it was strange that no one really seemed to be espousing the religious apocalypse thing. There was no big deceiver and surprisingly, little panic about religion or about anything really.

I was at the ocean’s shore when I saw it—a strange site. So many ducks in the water, rolling towards us in a breaking wave. Mallards. In the ocean. It struck me as strange because of course mallards are fresh water ducks, but I didn’t have much time to think about this since I quickly realized that all those beautiful ducks, rolling towards us at a disturbingly fast pace… they were all dead. Every last one of them.

"Oh no!" someone shouted. Anyone. It didn’t matter who at that point. We were all thinking it silently in our own heads as he pronounced the words, ‘It’s not the sun at all. It’s the sea! It’s full of death, and it’s coming towards us to claim us, too.’ As he said those words, the odor hit us in the face. The odor of millions of dead animals, and the water started lapping impatiently at our ankles.

“Run!” someone shouted. We were on the beach front of Fripp Island where my grandparents lived for many years in South Carolina. We picked out the tallest beach house (as if that would make a difference) and took off. It was the one with the elevator in it. We bounded up to the top floor. (I remember being surprised that Leslee from the Strand could run so fast).

We could see the water rising. I asked if we should try to find higher ground, but this was struck down. The water was level with the windows now, and it was starting to leak in. There was another family next door on the roof of a house: a mom, dad, and little boy. The boy was sobbing, so I walked over to him (the roofs were connected) and tried to comfort him before I launched my own tirade of, “We’re all going to die. We’re all going to die.” Over and over.

Then I woke up.

(Note: This is pretty much what I wrote down in the middle of the night, but I left out the references to NPR people - interestingly, I was mostly surrounded by NPR people in my dream.)