Creative Writing Student Portfolio 2020-2021

THE SUMMER OF THE ALMOST ALWAYS NEVER ATHENA HALLBERG (AB’21)

Then it was the day of the apocalypse. We went to the final service in the morning. Before it started, people milled around talking about all the things they would do in Heaven. Roy was telling anyone who would listen, “I always knew I would live to see the end of the world. I’m just shocked it took so damn long!”

When the service began, our leader stood at the front of the church and gave his speech, as the collection plate went round and round. I don’t remember his name. He wasn’t from town, but he had family who was, a sister, I think. But I remember his booming voice and eyes flashing without disappointment. “Save yourself! Give up all wealth. Don’t hold back. If you are holding back, then you are holding back from God. After today it will be too late! Only true believers will be saved, honest people who speak the truth. As they say in Revelations only those will be saved who follow the lamb for ‘in their mouth no lie was found, for they are spotless.’ I follow the lamb and you must follow me.”

Our leader kept reminding us, “It’s tonight. It will happen at Midnight.”

Midnight, it will happen at midnight, we all seemed to think as one.

I remember that evening, sitting around with other End-of-the-Worlders at someone's house. I'm sure it was chosen because the owners had a VHS player. They only had The Sound of Music, which we watched over and over again. A group of us kids crowded around the TV set close enough to touch it, while the adults moved about passing between the kitchen and the living room. We ate pizza and birthday cake, even though it wasn't anyone's birthday.

It was six o'clock. Six hours left. Then it was seven. An old man was crying. He had been trying to convince his daughter for weeks, but there was still hope she might convert before the end. His face was ugly and strained, the tears running down his wrinkles and catching in his beard. I had never seen anyone that old cry before.

Then it was eight, where was my father in all this? I can't see him. I don't remember. Roy was telling anyone who would listen that he had given up smoking and drinking. He wanted to be clean before going to Heaven, but other people were smoking and cigarette smoke clouded the air.

It was ten, the movie crooned “Edelweiss, Edelweiss, Bless my homeland forever!” It was almost time. Some people wouldn't stop talking. Others couldn't seem to say a word. One woman was talking in the high screech of the crows we sometimes saw outside our house, “First day I get to heaven I’ll give my departed Jack a big kiss in our house of marbled gold.”

It was eleven o'clock, and the movie had started up again. We wouldn't have time left to finish it.

Then it was almost midnight – half an hour left – Someone proposed a toast. “To the End!” A man said and champaign glasses clinked.

twenty minutes –

ten – a woman was singing a song about the land of milk and honey. Her voice was high and out of tune, “Nights we all will dance!” It was hard to hear the movie.

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