Joe Irvine

Written age 13
Douglas Academy, East Dumbartonshire

IN A PUFF OF SMOKE

He was just walking at that moment, a slight pop, somewhere around him. The smoke shrouded for a second, obscuring his vision until it disappeared into the air. It was normal to most people now, a regular, everyday, mundane bother. Like road traffic or loss of mobile signal. But to him it was more serious than the smiling faces of pale white men in lab coats let on. You see the disruption of atoms in the air could have the possibility of leading to the destruction of more than that, a grain of sand, a glass of water, a table, a car, a house, a field, a city, a country... the planet. For him it was frightening to even think of. That there could be a puff of smoke and everything would be gone. No warning. It was the apocalypse. Well, that was what the people in the streets were calling it - those with cardboard signs and scrawled handwriting, who would shout frantically at cars and pedestrians. They were not big apocalypses though, just puffs of smoke. They were happening more frequently now. The scientists on the news channels were saying it was nothing to worry about. They were saying it was only a single atom imploding, just one; but it's happening more frequently, which couldn't be good.

But he tried to focus on walking, the scene around him; there was a bright blue sky, there were finches tweeting in the trees. Road works, traffic and shouting; an average morning, he was not doing much though. It was Saturday so he was making his way to get the morning paper and some milk. He was humming a tune which he had heard the night before. He couldn't remember what it was called but he just had the chorus stuck in his head, so he repeated it again and again. It was about 9 oclock in the morning so the clock in the town centre was chiming away, waking the people with half moon eyes staggering home from a late night. He walked in rhythm to that infectious song. Beat by beat, step by step. He smiled, then suddenly smoke appeared again covering him in a veil of darkness, left to cough until the noxious gases drifted away. With several waves of his arms he pushed the smoke away. Still coughing he looked up at the sky. What was just a second ago the colour of purest blue was now littered with patches of deathly grey. The blue left in the sky was now draining away slowly. Bit by bit darkness pushed the light away until he couldn't see a thing. He crouched down and didn't move. His ears buzzed. He heard the sounds of bewilderment and confusion. He heard footsteps in the distance, and then he heard more. The sound grew and grew. People were running, screaming, yelling. The whoosh, light. The sun burst into the sky. He screeched in discomfort as his eyes adjusted. He looked around; people were staggering still from the new-found light. He stood up. He was standing on the left hand side of the road. Shops stretched ahead of him. One of the nearer shops was throwing out tons of sound. He turned to it. It was an electrical shop. There were TVs in the shop window. Each was playing NEWS1. There was panic on the screens. Scientists were shouting over and over. 'This is not serious - repeat - not serious. The ordeal is over, it will not happen again, do not worry, all is well.' This message blared all over the street. People started to walk around and get back to normality to the tune of the scientist's yelling, 'All is well!' He shouted at the people in the street, 'No!' No one even flinched. 'Don't you see?' he shouted again. 'This has to be serious.' They weren't listening. 'You'll regret this,' he yelled. 'You'll regret this!'
 

 
It was a week since the event. He was sitting in the street, clothes torn, cardboard sign in hand. He was shouting at the people passing by but they wouldn't listen. They were the naive ones, the gullible ones, the doomed ones. Though in a way he was no different, but he knew what was coming. It wouldn't hurt by the time it happened; no-one would know and all would be dead. It didn't bother him though; he was prepared. But that didn't make what was going to happen any better. The scientists, though, were still claiming nothing was wrong. They were filling the heads of the public and indeed the world with false hope.

His face was weak and tired, he had hardly slept. He was reminded of that day when everything changed. It was exactly a week. The bell in the town centre started to chime signalling 9 o'clock. A man walked past him. He jumped up and started to shout at him, tried to convince him. He backed away, scared. He told him there was nothing to worry about and that he was saving him by telling him the truth; showing him the light. He started to run, he did not follow. He saw the scared faces around him. He spoke of the tragedy that would befall the world and they started to crowd around him. Now he was encircled by the ones who wanted to listen. 'People,' he roared, 'you need to realise that all you know is coming to an end.' He looked around and saw their dismayed faces. 'The world is going to end and it will end quite soon.' They were silent: 'I don't know quite when but it will happen as sure as every grain of sand will be washed into the sea or every single cloud will fall as rain from the sky. Trust me, the end is near.' More people gathered around. 'The scientists on the television are lying - it is as simple as that. Every word they spew is worthless drivel invented only to keep the planet from panicking; a reaction which by all means is normal.' His voice was echoing in the wind, it was the only sound audible. 'No beliefs, no gods, no magic words can save you now. All I ask is that for your last day, hour maybe even minute, you see the world for what it truly is.' He looked up at the sky and...

Gone. And when time passed and creatures from beyond zoomed past where this humble planet used to exist, all they would see is one grain of sand fly pastthe glass, it will float across and then... in a puff of smoke, it will be gone.