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End of the World Party

“Let’s just enjoy the time we have left”.

By Ghostface WriterPublished 11 months ago 2 min read
End of the World Party
Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash

The city is buzzing, but not in the way it used to. It’s not the kind of excitement that comes from dreams of the future, from ambition, from progress. No, this is the last flicker of a dying flame—the desperate rush of people trying to feel something before it all goes dark.

The penthouse party is already in full swing, Oscar’s party - a sea of the wealthy and the elite, swimming in unbelievable luxury. Outside, on the steps leading up to the grand venue, a small scene is unfolding.

A stranger, an outsider - a kid whose only mistake is to be one of the unlucky ones that society starved and deprived, is being shoved back by the bouncers. He is not welcome. The suits, the gowns, the influencers in designer outfits—they don’t want his kind in here.

But then, a voice cuts through.

“C’mon guys… the world is ending. No need for this shit.”

Oscar steps forward. A young billionaire, too rich for his own good. Once, that money meant everything. Now, it’s meaningless. And tonight, all he wants is for people to have a good time while they still can.

He helps the stranger to his feet and gestures toward the doors. “Let’s just enjoy the time we have left.”

Inside, the moment he crosses the threshold, the DJ drops Empire State of Mind. The bass shakes the walls, and for a second, it feels like New York is alive again. The crowd roars, raising glasses, taking shots, spinning on the dance floor like it’ll never end.

Oscar hands the stranger a drink. “I’m sorry, man. I’m just.. I’m sorry. We just couldn’t stop wanting more. Now that I see clearly.. it’s too late. Too late to make up for what I’ve done. Too late for what I’ve become. Go on, man. Go on and enjoy yourself”.

Nobody knows why civilization is collapsing. No war, no asteroid, no virus. Just a creeping, undeniable truth settling over the world. Society is done. The systems that kept everything running? Gone. And when everything falls apart, money doesn’t mean a damn thing.

So they drink, they dance, they laugh. Not because they have hope. But because there’s nothing else left to do.

Microfiction

About the Creator

Ghostface Writer

Writing stories in my spare time. Daydreaming all the time. Welcome to the world inside my head.

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