Arthur In Apocalypse Wonderland (A Short Story, Together With Contemplative Listening Pleasure) | A Mixed Media Art Project

Once upon a time, there was no space. No universe. Then the world came into existence by The Majestic One. Then there was no more world. All that was left was a remnant of what the people of the world remembered to have existed. We envisioned a paradise where bliss ran rampant in our imaginations.

That the elders didn't heed the warnings of the world's climatologists was a sad and unfortunate day in our history. This was told to Arthur, one of the young survivors by his father, also a climatologist.

What was left was a desolate wasteland, with millions of tons of unspoken wreckage. Billows of unsanitary smoke spewed into the atmosphere. Once majestic skyscrapers emanating magical lights dimmed, then went black. The aurora borealis twinkling over the nights' skylines vanished. Barren lands scattered with rotting corpses left little room for clean living spaces.

But the world survived. Different, but survivable.

The exodus of people from his city who did survive left a mark on Arthur. No longer a cheerful lad of fourteen, he could no longer remember his extended older family.

One day, Arthur worked to morning that dawned not as gloomy as in the past.

"Arthur, let go outdoors!" an excited ten-year-old Alyshea pronounced, as she tugged on his arm.

Remembering days when they frolicked in the fields daily enjoying the animals, sights, and sounds of summer, he almost succumbed. But the scene didn't materialize that day. Instead, under the hazy afternoon, ash dripped to the ground without a care.

Arthur desperately wanted to believe. Not wanting to disappoint his only sister left, they donned their handkerchiefs across their faces covering their nose. The acrid smell grew weaker each day, but still came each morning.

"It's raining. Don't you see it?" Alyshea screamed in delight once outside.

"Rain is no more, silly girl." Arthur frowned, then heaved a remorseful sigh.

Suddenly, music spread across the festival infusing a foreboding into Arthur's thoughts. His pulse raced, as he scoured the landscape. A festival of old. What manner of delusion is this, his panicked thoughts sprung up.

Alyshea danced around him, taking in the eerie music, then pulled away and dashed off to locate the semblance of a ferris wheel as butterflies fluttered in the sky.

A festival for Arthur in an apocalyptic land.