The Dying Stars

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Curtis reached the edge of the cliff and settled himself down on the grass. He dangled his legs down over the rocks and opened his first can of beer, sipping from it.

The night was much darker than usual. Curtis looked up at the sky, the almost-full moon shining brightly on the world around him. He turned his attention to one of the brightest stars in the sky, then took a second, longer swig.

Someone was screaming from somewhere far behind him. People had been running around like crazy for the last few nights, screeching and wailing. Curtis had been one of them at first, but by now he had grown tired of it all.

He kept his eyes on the brightest star in the sky, lonely and pitiful. It was not dissimilar to Curtis himself.

The star blinked at him for a few moments. Then, it vanished altogether.

Curtis raised the can to his mouth and supped again. The screams seemed to increase in volume, but he paid them no attention. What was the point in screaming, anyway?

It was not a bad way to go, Curtis supposed. Each star burned and died, though at a rate suddenly so fast that in a single blink its extinction could be missed. A bit like people themselves, really.

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