Drabble 142 – Eschaton

A photo of ivy growing against a cement wall.

I’m not a good gardener, but I try. I can’t keep mint alive to save my life. I keep letting my precious raspberries get eaten by birds or my dog or simply turn purple and drop off the vine because I’ve forgotten to go out and pick them.

Still, I love it. I love seeing the raspberries there, even if I don’t pick them in time. I love seeing things growing, even if they’re the weeds I’ve neglected to pick out. Something is working, even if it’s not by my hand.

These are things I never thought I could do. At some points in my life, I’ve been convinced that everything I touch will crumble, if not literally than figuratively. As it turns out, that’s not necessarily true; sometimes things grow in unexpected ways, and that, too, can be a gift.

Anyway, here’s a drabble.


(n.) from Greek ἔσχατος, for “last”

The final event in a divine plan; the end of the world.

Many thought that the end of the world would be the end of humanity; that grass and cows and things would continue on, not being part of the divine’s grand vision of the afterlife. Some found that comforting; it was humanity’s fault things had gone so poorly, so it only made sense to leave earth to those who were just trying to live.

Of course, nobody could say what happened, nor even if the world had ended. The signs had been there, each omen aligned. But things carried on, as they always had; if the world had ended, nothing had changed.

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