The Notes of Ryla Mason

This is an excerpt from the writing I am doing. I have a character and I feel like these blogs she'll write. If I give her the reins I may just find out who she is. These are her notes about her book about the end of the world.

July 9th 2008
Around 2:10 pm today I thought I heard the coming of the end of the world. This happens on occasion. A punk in his low riding tricked out car follows the 25 mph speed limit on the road past my house and as it approaches with its loud muffler and booming bass music, I imagine the end of the world. I guess a tricked out Honda Civic sounds like the roar of the world's demise. A world killing tsunami wave or the mushroom cloud of a nuclear attack. As the rumbling of a the deep tones of the expensive stereo setup, I hear the inevitable and unpreventable approach of disaster. I imagine seeing a wall of debri or water or smoke, which is incidentally traveling 25 mph in this fantasy. I can do nothing. Say nothing. Feel nothing. There is no time. I die in my meaningless but rather nice spacious two bedroom home, alone. Sometimes in these fantasies, I burn alive, or rather in case of a nuclear apocalypse, I am incinerated with my two cats before I can blink. The end.
Or sometimes I drown in my belongings. The water wells and gushes up the the second floor windows of my house. The water forces its way into every crevice and every crack. There is nothing to be done. It happens slower than the burning scenario. But the death by water is very appealing. It's more peaceful. That is only if the water is clear and clean. If I were drowning in the mud and muck of those already killed and all the matter this storm collected, it sounds much less appealing. I drown among the comfort of my belongings. The water of the oceans is far away from its proper home there in my living room. Books and photos and pillows swirl around me in the churning water and swallow me up.
Or sometimes I imagine a blast of immense power and energy that sends the glass of my windows inward. I huddle against the wall between the windows of my dining room and living room as they explode in a spray of glass. I huddle with my two cats as the big impact hits. I cough and choke on the dust and floating debri. It steals the oxygen from the air, it soaks up the saliva in my mouth and throat, and clogs my nose. My eyes water and I cover them. My ears ring with the roaring of the explosion. I guess I don't die in this scenario right away. I might die from radiation later. Or the lack of water. The power is out. I have no heat. My only shelter is the decrepit apartment which is windowless, wrecked, and at the mercy of further explosions.
I imagine and concoct all of these scenarios in less than 10 seconds, and then I realize the roaring rumble of the end of the world was just a Honda Civic that has a stereo system that is worth far more than the car itself for sure. I go back to the mundane and routine of my normal life until the world end again as a plane passes over or the ground shakes. It's these times that I imagine the end as inevitable, hopeless, quick, and lethal. But there are other ways for the world to end. In fact, I am sure of it. I imagine those as well.

Until another end- Ryla