Sometimes I Write Stories Because It's More Fun Than Facing Reality

Once there was a girl who sat at the bottom of a tree reading a book. She had short brown hair with blonde in it. It might have been blonde with brown in it. It's possible that this girl is someone you know. It's possible that you know this story because this might have happened to your planet.

It could have been smallearth. It could have been China, if China was its own planet.

The day the girl sat under a tree the planet began to blow away. Imagine Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It was kind of like that. People wore goggles to protect their eyes but soon it was useless, like people wearing masks to ward off the swine flu. Yeah, the swine flu got everyone there too.

The earth swirled and fell away and the planet got smaller and smaller. People fell off and disappeared, they just disappeared into nothingness and we don't know where they went. Do you ever get confused about space because it's so huge? What exactly is it? Where is cyberspace? Is that where you go when you die?

The girl remained at the bottom of the tree reading her book. Chaos ensued around her. The earth was steadily shrinking. Bits of it were falling away at an alarming rate. She kept reading. Go on, ask what she was reading. It was a book called "Across the Universe" by The Beatles an anonymous author. You can look it up but you won't find the book she was reading. She was reading a non-existant book.

The earth was being shaved off, as if God was filing his planet nails. Everything just fucking blew away, just gone, just like that. Soon there was only a tree attached to a clump of dirt and a girl reading a non-existant book on it. She finished reading and stepped off the planet.

What happens now? Everything I love is gone.