It was a dark and stormy night again. Twentieth day of the month and it had been that way for nine-teen of them. On those rear occasions the moon was visible it was full and red. Maybe the crazy guy on the radio was right.

He said this would happen not long before the world came to an end. If he is accurate then the storms were going to stop in a few days, and it’s going to be unbearably hot.

A week later the storms all but stopped, and the moon was in full view. It seemed like it was bigger, getting closer to Earth. The days were steamy and didn’t cool any overnight. News reports said the fish were washing up on beaches and shores all over the world. From rivers and oceans. It seems like the tides are getting lower and lower with no high tide.

Food was getting scares, and each day got hotter. Power was being lost all over the globe, and the moon each night was getting bigger.

We were told to meet at the old airport by what used to be the river. It was like no other plane I ever saw. It looked more like a rocket ship with wheels, and as long as two football fields.

A flight attendant rushed me to my seat right before the captain’s voice came through the speakers. He explained where we were attempting to go.

As the ground got farther away in the window, it resembled an old dry desert.

The intercom clicked on, “Just relax and enjoy your ride to paradise.”

Published by authorjturley

R James started writing bad poetry in his mid-30's. While taking a couple writing courses he wrote short stories with interesting characters. R James has been published in, Creepies 2: Things that go Bump in the Closet, Deviant Shadows: Tales of the Parabnormal, among others. R James got sick of the northern winters, and writes from the sunshine state, where the sun sets into the Gulf of Mexico.

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