The Swing at the End of the World

Fwoosh

Creak

Fwoosh

Creak

The old swing that I sat upon swung back and forth steadily. I was on a small Island. Barely 20 feet across. The ground was primarily gravel on top, but I knew there was some soil beneath the surface.

The only thing on the island was an old oak tree, a swing and me. I had sat here since the beginning of time and I would remain here until the end. Just steadily swinging back and forth.

Fwoosh

Creak

Fwoosh

Creak

Time traveled differently here. My every movement dictated the world. Every time I breathed in, a birth. Every time I breathed out, a death. 

Each kick of my legs caused an action. Swing out: war. Swing in: healing. Swing out: famine and disease. It went on.

The twitch of my finger created a great storm. A twitch of my wrist: an earthquake. If I should for some reason move my entire arm, catastrophe.

A random thought about how silly money was caused what you call "The Great Depression."

It gets lonely here. The only company I have are the souls of the deceased that pass by me on the way to to the afterlife.

They don't say much.

They just keep drifting on by. Not knowing. Not seeing. Not hearing. Not feeling. They're empty husks until they reach their destination, wherever that is.

I sigh shortly. If I think too much, bad things happen in the world. People die. A moment here may be many years in yours. 

My existence dictates yours. My every action, however small, will have great effects on your world. 

One time, a shiver ran up my spine from the cold mist swirling around me. I hear it made the ice age where you are.

I cannot complain though. It is nice here, I suppose. Very peaceful. 

I just swing. That is what I must do until the end. 

I can't ever tell when the end will come. I just look around at the souls. They have an eternal flow. I'll know the world has come to an end when no more souls pass my threshold. That means that everyone has died. Everything is gone.

You may think how unfair it is that I control you. But it's quite the contrary. Your thoughts are your own. I have no control over that. It's funny actually.  Sometimes your thoughts control my actions.

You see, on a very rare occasion, one of the spirits is actually vaguely aware. I'm never sure why they're like this. But they'll talk to me. Tell me what's happening in the world. I'll change what i'm doing to make it better for you all. Or, at least, I try. 

Once the end comes, I will finally be able to stop. I'll slow my swing to a stop and climb off from perch. I'll stretch out my stiff limbs and walk the same way the spirits did. My job will have been completed.

I am the past, the present and the future.  Here since the beginning and here until the end.

But until then, i'll be here.

Fwoosh

Creak

Fwoosh

Creak

(498 words)