The Change

When professional and amateur astronomers noticed the death rock in the sky, it was already too late to come together.

For two weeks, things went on as usual; people hustled by the homeless, politicians sent the poor off to war, white people killed Black people, adults assaulted their own children. It wasn’t until the world sirens started screaming that people suddenly changed their tunes.

The man who had spat at a homeless person suddenly double backed and wanted to apologize. He was met with a knife to the throat. The politicians were held hostage in their homes by the poor in their home countries for damning their kin by sending them abroad for lies. White people were sprayed with hoses and had dogs sicced on them when they tried to hug it out with Black folk. When the adults tried to hunker down with their family, the children spoke up and cursed and said they would rather burn up and die away from them and ran off into the chaos of the neighborhood to freedom.

Madness happened for three days before humans died. The sirens never stopped, it seemed. White mothers screamed for their lost children, only to go home clutching a ripped picture. Old, white military fathers banned together to keep their neighborhoods protected. It was absolutely destroyed in their neighborhoods, by their own people, from the sudden meth overdoses. Black people, however…

The “standard” Black families banded together and just had a cookout. Some even held small family gatherings for wrongdoings. Others didn’t bother and just drank brown liquor and played Spades. The Huxtables’ and the Banks’ met up in their McMansion’s and tittered and sniffled in their Pier 1 champagne flutes that were full of Arbor Mist. The runaway queer Black children, though?

They flourished in the second sun that was sent to destroy them and other humans, though. They worshiped the rock, dancing to its brightness day and night. The held hands and sang to it, laughing with it, feeling as if justice was coming down to smite the whole world for doing them wrong. They dressed each other in colorful fabrics, painting each other’s faces in glitter and the rainbow. For three days, they lived how they desired and more.

The last 14 hours dragged on and one with anticipation. Everyone started to realize it was the end. They sobbed and cried and raged. They sat in the dark, in silence, in tears. They loaded guns and died sooner rather than later. They held hands. They kissed. They made love. They fucked.

In the last 36 seconds of human life, 36 people gave birth. As the last baby crowned, the rock hit the earth with a force that would change the geography of the planet again. Windows shattered, people were burnt alive, some died from the impact of glass to their skull.

The oceans dried up, the people starved to death. When the last human took their last breath, the sky cooled and clouds came back, bringing hundreds of thousands of years of rain to wash away any remains of the destruction of the planet and of people by white people and leaving the many books, SD cards, servers of vital information of the hatred that white people have endured to Black people, original people, to the surface of the new mud that settled when the last raindrop fell from the sky.

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