One Day Left

The world is going to end in just 24 hours. One day of chaos, suffering, and horror beyond your wildest nightmares. But a few people stand out. These are people who against all odds have found a reason to smile, and they discover lessons that most people never experince. These are their stories.

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                                 His Religion

The rain was endless, falling every way and direction like a hurricane. The veil that covered her was soaking wet and blowing with the breeze. She held onto it with a clamped hand and tried to see through the blur of madness. She had come across a mosque that had been left behind. It made sense. The building was home to spiders and cobwebs, struggling to hold on in such a storm, and this same building was in the middle of nowhere. It seemed like a suitable place to go pray before she died. To pray in silence.

She grabbed one of the large door handles and quickly rushed inside, trying to cover herself from getting any more wet. The door closed behind her. Inside of the mosque was decorated and lovely like a picture frame, despite the dust that had collected over the years. Some small lights were dangling, but the room was pretty dim. She wandered over to the middle of the floor and sat gingerly on one of the placement mats, fixing her long dress as she did so. She heard a voice.

"You hiding from the rain, too, huh?"

There was a man across the room. He was a tourist wearing some bizarre clothing, probably from America, and with a striking yet sincere smile on his face. His blue eyes sparkled like ponds of fresh water.

Her eyes remained on him for just a moment before shyly falling back to the floor. She said nothing.

"It kind of feels like a nightmare. Like we'll all just wake up soon." He continued as he recalled what had happened before. He didn't have any family. He just traveled the world like some kind of nomad would. He thought about all of the places he would never set foot in. It was only one more day until everyone would share a funeral. His eyes landed back on the beautiful woman. He watched her a little more closely now, taking in the details. Her hazel eyes speckled lightly with a tint of mystery, and her beneath her dark veil was clothing as dark as the stormy sky. Her head was covered, of course, but disobedient strands of wavy black hair seemed to fall around her face, framing it like a picture. After a moment he spoke once again, "A lot of people are gathering in churches, mosques, and temples. They're really crowded now."

"Ne?" The woman questioned blankly in Turkish.

He blinked dumbly and then let out a sheepish laugh, "Of course, you probably don't understand a word I'm saying! I'm sure you're a friendly woman, though. Dedicated to your faith, at least."

The woman blinked and her eyes seemed to fall on his bag. She pointed to it and then met his gaze like a pet wanting something from it's owner.

"Oh? This?" He asked as he picked up the soaking wet bag, clicking it open. The contents poured to the floor like paint from a bucket. He added sheepishly, "Most of my things got soaked in the rain. Sorry if you wanted something."

The girl looked like she wasn't even listening. Her focus was on something, like a pointer dog towards a bird. Her index finger was fixed to a book. This book was curled slightly on the edges from being damp, but was still legible. The man caught her looking at it and smiled sadly, "That's my bible. It's a smaller version I can travel with, but… it's gotten wet too…"

She didn't respond, but she looked back at him with intention in her.

He stared back for a moment before a light bulb went off in his head. The gears finally seemed to shift as a connection went into play. A little smile found it's way on his face, "You want me to read it to you?"

The woman seemed a little confused by his words, but as if by magic, he could read her expression. He picked up the book, leaving the other things behind, and casually stepped over to her. He sat down nearby some large wooden boxes next to the wall, and opened the book to a page with a bent corner. Without any cue or even another word, he began to read. The woman sat there listening. She couldn't pick up on the meanings of the word, but somehow she could understand the main points. The two cultures, the two languages, the two books didn't seem so different. After what seemed to be hours, she was sitting comfortably on the mat with her arms wrapped around herself. He spoke without a pause or mumble, as if the words were coming more from his heart then the print.

"Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." He continued to speak, his eyes scanning through the pages.

"Lord?" The woman finally seemed to speak. Her voice was as lovely as a singing bird, and yet it was soft and delicate, hardly even heard. She had a heavy accent, as expected, but it hardly even mattered. Her finger was pointing at the man. She turned her hand around and pointed at herself, "And Allah."

The man stared into her hazel eyes for a moment before gently placing his own hand onto hers, as if establishing a connection. He smiled faintly as he slowly spoke, "No. Lord and Allah… like other religions. A mosque, a temple, a church. All for people wanting hope. All for the same."

"The same." She repeated slowly as she looked curiously at his hands. They were strong and muscular, and yet they held hers so gently and carefully, like he was holding a glass doll. She could see it now. Her brothers and sisters huddled in the mosques praying. Did this stranger have family? Did they speak of the Lord like they spoke of Allah? Suddenly, her eyes flickered with understanding and a soft smile crossed her lips. And she spoke, "Sağ olun."

The man didn't have a clue about what she had said, but the two seemed to share a level of understanding as he smiled blissfully back at her. Their interlaced fingers showed a tie between the two. A red ribbon of fate had tied them as one. Two that appeared so different, and yet, secretly had everything in common. Just like the books that guided them. The pounding rain had settled long ago. They had forgotten about it, and they no longer cared. They were together.

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                                Smile Of A Child

He wanted to get out of town. That was it. He wanted to get away from all of the madness. People were rushing across the streets of the busy city. Cars were jammed up inches away from eachother, and nobody seemed to know what to do. There was just 24 hours until the end of the world. He didn't want his last day to be lost in crowds of confused sheep.

He tried to drive at a steady pace, but he felt himself stop every five seconds due to the traffic. He growled bitterly to himself and honked loudly at the guy in front of him, cursing to himself silently. Once he got a chance, his foot shoved on the gas and he drove out of there as fast as he could. He was lucky. He managed to continue driving down the street until the small city was starting to become a picture in the distance. He glanced backwards and then grinned slightly at the sight. When he turned back around, he noticed someone on the road in front of the bridge. Not being able to react quickly enough, he suddenly slammed on the brakes. His eyes were tightly closed shut when he opened them against and looked around in a panic, searching for the victim. He shoved the car door open with some loud cussing and hurried to the front of the car. That's when he saw her. The first thing he noticed… she was very short. Young, too. Actually, it was a little girl. She had curly blonde locks and baby brown eyes, and seemed as adorable as a doll with her gentle face and small size. The man blinked dumbly before glaring and spitting his words out, "What're you doing out here by yourself? I almost didn't see you. If I had hesitated, I would've hit you! Where are your parents?"

The girl didn't seem fazed by his words, but she frowned a little at his last question. Her voice was high-pitched and innocent, "My parents? I lost them, mister."

The man stared at her for a moment before sighing stressfully; running a hand through his tightly ringed black hair. He liked to refer to it as black, anyway. It was starting to become more grey then any other colour. He was actually a man in his 40's, although he appeared much older. His words were desperate and miserable, "Everything is so insane… to think… I run into some girl who's lost her parents…" He ran the hand down his face like an actor in a drama, and then fell back to reality as he asked her, "Where were they when you last saw them?"

"We were going through some crowds of people on the street and I got lost. I couldn't find them after that."

"Then they're probably still in the city… don't see why you're at the bridge…" The man mumbled as he whipped an ancient phone out of his pocket. He was about to dial the police when he realized that they were probably flocked with calls, if they were even in service. He growled bitterly and shoved the phone back in his pocket as he marched back to the car. Over his shoulder he told the girl, "Common, I'm going to help you out. Get in the car."

"Thanks, mister!" The girl said cheerfully as she hurried over to his car and hopped into the backseat. Once seated, she threw on her seat beat and her eyes looked at every corner in the car. If you could call it a car. There were holes in the seats and the floor was dirty and had some trash. Her eyes were so big, however, it seemed like she was in Disneyland. The man yanked roughly on the gears and the car huffed slightly. Then he began to drive the way he came. He didn't even know why he was helping. It was unlike him, seeing as he wasn't much kinder then the Grinch. But it didn't seem morally right to leave her there.

"Hey, mister, you have a nice car!" The girl exclaimed brightly all of the sudden, once she looked at the entire thing.

"Yeah, sure…" He grumbled, barely audible. Then he glanced slightly over at her, "Listen, I'll bring you back to my place and get you some food. Then we'll try to find where your parents are. Sound good?"

"Mister, Do you have a TV in your car? Some people have car TVs!" The girl asked as she pointed to the ceiling. "Can I watch Spongebob? I love Spongebob."

The man grumbled something under his breath, but decided to not answer. It seemed to be a cycle. The girl would bring up a topic, but it would be shot down with a bullet, and the car would fall silent again. The man would always have a foul look on his face, as if he just saw someone do some gross dare. The girl was always smiling brightly like it was her birthday. The two were polar opposites, to say the least.

Eventually the man pulled into a building and parked the car. He got out of the car, and the young girl copied him by doing the same. The two headed up several stairs to his apartment. He struggled with the keys for a moment before the door gave in and clicked open. His apartment wasn't much better then his car.

Everything was covered with a blanket of dust and dirt. There was junk thrown around the tables and on the floor, and there were only two rooms. Both of these rooms were small, making a guest feel more like a caged dog then a welcomed visitor. But the blonde girl's eyes didn't shrink at all. They were still as large as watermelons.

Her feet landed on every corner of the room as she explored this new playground. Her eyes darted back to the stranger, who was in the kitchen. The grumpy man opened a few cabinets, mostly seeing booze and some cheap canned stuff. He tried to remember what kind of forgien substances kids liked to eat before the young girl piped up, "Do you have Macaroni and Cheese? Or Lucky Charms?"

He growled something under his breath about how most single men didn't buy Lucky Charms for themselves, but luckily it was too silent for the innocent girl to hear. He shut the cabinets and turned his gaze back to her, trying to be polite, "Is a sandwich okay?"

"Sure, I love sandwiches!" She said cheerfully. There didn't seem to be a thing in the world she hated.

The man turned and began preparing the sandwich. Usually he ate TV dinners and other cheap food, so it took him a little bit of time to fix one up. Once he was finished, he walked over to the small table. He plated the plate there, and was about to say something when he noticed the girl had found a photo album. It was the only photo album he had, and he always kept it under the short table. The girl didn't seem to notice the food, but she noticed him right away. "Who's that?" She pointed to a girl. "Is that your wife, mister?"

"Yes… she was my wife." He mumbled, a little sadly as he stared at the old picture. The two were standing in the parking lot of a skating rink. He was leaning against the car with a big grin on his face, and she had her arms wrapped around him, and seemed to be laughing. The picture was unexpected, but that was why it seemed so natural. They were young and stupid back then. They wanted to have kids and grow old together, but her life was tragically cut short by her disease.

The girl blinked and then looked at him curiously, trying to read his expression with her constantly bouncing eyes, "What happened, mister? Did you get a divorce?"

The man gritted his teeth slightly and snapped a little at her, "No, we didn't get a divorce. Why are you asking questions like that?"

The smile didn't leave her face, but a hint of sadness shone in her eyes. She averted her gaze back to the book as she told him, "Well… the truth is, I didn't really lose my parents."

The man seemed surprised, and also confused. "What? Then what happened? Why were you alone?"

"Well, my parents spilt up when I was too little to remember. Since mommy says the world is ending today, and she doesn't want to see me, I wanted to meet my daddy. So I went to look for him. Maybe he is looking for me too. Maybe we would go to the zoo. I love the zoo." She explained her story with simple yet honest words. One of her hands remained on the photo album as she spoke, "But I can't find him. I wonder if he loves me too."

The man frowned at her words. Not out of anger of being lied to, but out of another feeling he couldn't remember; sympathy. Every day he woke up in the morning, scowling about the singing birds, and every night he went to sleep, ignoring the loud cars outside his window. He didn't feel bad for anyone but himself. Not until this kind little girl stepped into his life. This little girl, who always seemed to be smiling no matter what her situation was. She was probably just six and yet she had wisdom far beyond her years. Her words echoed through his head. She wanted to meet her father since it was her last day on Earth. She wanted to do something as simple as going to the zoo. That would make her the happiest girl in the stressful city of chaos and misery.

"Tell you what," He suddenly said as he closed the photo album. The faintest of all smiles crossed his face, but it was real, and familiar. "I'll be your dad until the end of the day. I'll bring you to the zoo, and let you watch Sponge bob when we get home."

The girl's face brightened like sunlight, "Can I have macaroni and cheese too, mister?"

"Sure, I think we can do that." He said with a slight laugh as he gently placed a hand on her head. Some of that sunlight reflected in his own face and she giggled with glee. He hadn't felt that way in such a long time. It was amazing that he felt happy. Real happiness. He never thought he would smile ever again, and it was even odder since life was on a clock now. Both of them had suffered, and yet, they were the only ones laughing in a world of misery.

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                                 Music Of Hope

The end of the world. You would think that everyone would be spending their last moments huddled around family members and friends, but that wasn't always the case. Some people preferred to drink their troubles away, mostly drunks who had no loved ones.

"Another, please." The girl mumbled as she pushed the drink aside. The bartender was cleaning one of the glasses when he took hers and served her another shot. He wasn't taking any money from any of his customers. Money was useless. Even if he spent all of his money within those last hours, nothing would make him happy. He only continued working because his profession provided him with the smallest amount of pleasure.

His sadness reflected on everyone else like mirrors. The drunks were slumped over chairs, drinking until they were sick. They almost wanted to feel sick and vomit, hoping it would take their mind off such a horrible thought as death. There was very little talking and no laughing. It was worse then black plague and worse then a funeral.

The girl drank down the shot quickly like it was water. It was refreshing. Her green eyes landed on the man who sat next to her, whom she had not noticed before. He was turned away from her. He was a black man with short hair and broad shoulders. He was a tad heavy, but it hardly detracted from his strong appearance, like a bull. He looked completely different to herself, for she was a pale girl who was scrawny and average in appearance. Next to him was a saxophone case, sitting dully and leaning against the wall.

She pointed a curious finger over to it and randomly asked, "You play the saxophone?"

The man blinked suddenly. He slowly shifted his head over to her and responded with a deep voice, "Yeah."

She flashed a slight smile, "That's neat. I love the sound of a saxophone. I've never played one, but I know some friends that have."

The man stared at her for a moment before returning his attention back to his drink. He hardly made eye contact with her. His head seemed so heavy that you would think there were bricks tied to it.

The girl tried to start over again, "How long have you been playing?"

The man couldn't respond with a yes or no this time. He frowned slightly and mumbled, "A long time…"

The girl made a face like he just said he was born on a different planet. She seemed to be getting impatient as she commented, "Not much of a talker, are ya?"

"What's there to talk about?" He said with a slight sigh.

The girl's eyes flickered from the man to his saxophone case. She stared at it for a oddly long time before her eyes widened to the size of the moon, "I'm curious."

The man raised an eyebrow and finally glanced at her. He was staring blankly, his eyes black holes. He waited for the question.

"Why do you play the saxophone?"

The man was silent for a few moments, considering a reply, before he slowly responded to her question, "I like to. It's fun… something to do to pass the time…"

"You ever play in front of crowds? I'm guessing you play for tips and such, right?" The girl questioned with an amused look on her face. She was hanging onto his every word as she interviewed the stranger.

He shook his head. There was silence for a moment, so he decided to fill it in by adding, "I play by myself. It's more of a hobby."

"Aww, but why keep such talents to yourself?" The girl seemed disappointed in him, like a parent who saw their child's bad grade, "People love to watch musicians. Music makes people hopeful, don't you think?"

"Hopeful?" The man repeated her words with a strange flicker in his eyes. He had forgotten what that word meant, ever since he heard the end of the world was near. There was nothing they could do to stop it. Every human had to accept it and cope like some bad disease. Such positive emotions had been painfully lost. "I… I don't know." He turned away and brought his attention back to his drink. He had ended the conversation, building a wall to block out the idea permanently.

But the girl wanted to break down the wall, and build bridges. Countless bridges. She continued to speak up, "I have an idea to make this place a bit more cheery."

The man naturally shuffled his body away from her slightly before muttering, "I'm not really—"

"Now, common, enough of that." She pestered as she grabbed his arm. Without thinking, he grabbed his saxophone case as a defense. She was dragging him across the barely lit room, and onto a small stage. The only light above them was a lone light bulb, dim in brightness and resembling a sad orphan. Nobody had turned from their barstools or small circle tables. Nobody had shifted a muscle, or flickered an eye.

The man seemed a little irritated with the lady at this point, "What do you expect me to—"

"Get your saxophone out." She whispered quickly over to him, before turning her attention to the people. She grabbed the microphone that was standing perfectly in front of her, and exclaimed, "Hello, everyone! I've got a little performance to show you all! Hopefully we can see a few more smiling faces in here, huh!?"

Some people glanced over at the sound of her voice, but most didn't even bother to look. The bartender frowned. Usually he would discourage anyone from using the stage, but at this point, he was as lifeless as a zombie. It didn't make a tad of a difference anymore.

She smiled like a superstar, showing her pearly whites, before adding, "Now, keep in mind, this isn't rehearsed. And I'm not the best singer around, but… hopefully you'll enjoy it! Or at least, be able to stand it!"

The man behind her was holding his saxophone, and the case was placed on the wall. Despite the fact he wanted to be anywhere else but there, he didn't want to be rude, either. He sighed, knowing his life was going to be over soon anyways. There wouldn't be any harm.

The girl looked back at him and smiling knowingly. Her eyes sparkled in a way that told him he should start.

And so he did.

His tune was a sad one and yet a beautiful one, like a tragic poem. At first, nobody seemed to notice, but eventually heads would turn one by one. The girl started to sing along once she got the beat down. Her voice was by no means perfect, but when she sang to the lovely instrument, the saxophone seemed to cover that. The two flowed together in perfect harmony, like they had done it a million times before.

'There's only one day left, yes one day left,' She continued to sing. The lyrics were natural to her, but only because she followed his lead, and was a quick thinker. 'But it's a day to remember, not a day to forget.'

By the end of the song, all eyes were on the stage. The black man frowned at their silent reactions. The girl waited with a expectant look in her eyes. And that's when it all began.

One of them began to clap. Followed by another. And then another. First, the clapping was uncertain and forced, but soon their true feelings showed through as they began to clap loudly and with pride. Some of them cheered, some of them were crying. All of them could feel hope pounding through their heartbeats.

The man put aside his saxophone and felt a surge of emotions throughout his veins. The girl cheered with sheer delight, before suddenly turning and rushing towards the handsome stranger. She brought him into the most random and most passionate kiss he had ever felt. It was just a second long and yet it was powerful, and magic like a fairytale. She pulled away, still holding onto him as she waved to the small crowd and continued to laugh cheerfully. The man smiled faintly despite himself and copied her by showing a small wave to the delighted customers.

They could all feel it. They were so hopeful they were acting reckless, carefree, and silly, like children. It was just because of a little tune. Some music had gone by their ears and brightened their hearts. Soon the bar was lively again, like a rainbow after bad weather. Even the bartender was smiling and serving up drinks in a delightful manner. The handsome black man and the pale girl spent the rest of the night together, chatting away and speaking to some of their new fans. When the bar finally closed and everyone was leaving, the two walked out holding eachother close, and she had his saxophone in her hands.