Extinction

Snow fell on the end of the world.

It wasn't the end of Chion. That planet would go on spinning idly in space, as it had for billions of years since its fiery beginning, as it would for billions of years until its fiery end, when it returned to the embrace off the star that birthed it. It was, however, the end of life on Chion, the end of world as concept, as the minds that carried the concept were fading into a soft darkness.

A little boy in a red parka ran along the sidewalk in a town like any other scattered across the human colonies. His parents walked behind him slowly. They knew the significance of this unseasonal snow. Knew what each flake carried as it floated down from the great swathes of gray that covered the land and prevented the sunlight from reaching and warming the surface.

They held hands.

They had decided not to tell the little boy about the end of the world. About the reason for the snow. About what the coming days held for them, as they and everyone they knew succumbed to the poison, or hunger, or simple despair.

The boy stopped in a baseball field. It was empty of other children and covered with snow. He leaned down and shoved the snow into a ball. As his parents stood and watched, he rolled the ball over the ground, building it up, until he had the bottom part of a snowman. The two adults joined in then, helping the boy create the figure out of softly glowing snow.

The boy threw snowballs. The parents smiled and joined in the play. Others were hiding at home, determined to eke out the couple more days of survival that avoiding direct contact would give them. The boy's parents didn't see the point in that, so they ran and played with the son, laughing through their tears.

Finally, worn out, the boy flopped onto the snow, his arms and legs outstretched. He flapped them up and down, creating a snow angel. His parents watched as the snowflakes drifted lazily down, covering their son, a slow burial. It had all been a failure, like every planet the human species consumed. Other stars held other chances for those prescient enough to have already left.

Silently, the parents lay on either side of their son, grasped his hands, and gazed into the heavens.