The winning submission for the short story contest is Rhyme and Reason's story, "Bear and Goose". You can read the submission below. Thank you to all other participants!
The universe was old.
It had lived longer than anything else. But that’s obvious. It’s just common sense.
Nearly 10 trillion years had passed since the flurry of unknown power and origin produced the small, young universe.
The universe had seen a lot: empires rise and fall, civilizations dominate hundreds of stars and galaxies, and tiny plant life grow into massive planetary organisms. The universe had seen it all. Many times. It remembered everything.
It remembered the first time a sentient creature stood up and took its first steps. It remembered the sad day when the first start died. It remembered the first supernova to explode, the first black hole, the first space travel, the first civilizations to meet.
Trillions of years of memories.
And it was all coming to an end.
The universe was old.
The stars had begun winking out some time ago. Now more and more were going. Some exploded with a beautiful rage of colors. Other winked out with a quiet collapse. A few shrunk into singularities and ate everything around them. But they, too, puffed out and disappeared. The center of the universe, the most populated by stars and systems, was all that was left. Innumerable stars, and yet so few. On one planet, far within the center of the universe and orbiting all alone, remained just two figures: a bear and a goose. They were from two different galaxies, two different empires. Each had traveled here to see the end of everything. Close up.
“How long ago was it, that your planet was swallowed?” asked Bear.
“Oh, a very long time ago,” replied Goose. “You?”
“Yes, a very long time. The great abyss swallowed it what felt like eons ago. What was your planet like?”
“Oh, it was very nice. No sickness, no pain, no hardship. We didn’t even have those words in our language. How about you?”
“Yes, very easy. The perfect conditions for life, nothing hard, nothing complicated. That’s how we died in the end. No one but e realized the end was coming.”
“Me too. I alone escaped with the knowledge of my people. Did you bring anything?” asked Goose.
“Everything,” sighed Bear, heavily. “But what is the use? What can we do with all this useless knowledge?” Bear sat down and sighed again.
Goose joined him. She wrapped a small, knitted scarf, marked with the emblem of a key, around her slender neck and sat with Bear in silence. Both were pondering over the past and wondering of the future. Time passed, but the world seemed to stand still. Shadows passed over the faces of the two lone companions, sharing the moment.
“Say,” said Goose, breaking the silence. “Do you think we’re the last ones?”
“Undoubtedly,” moaned Bear, wiping away a tear with a handkerchief embroidered with a silver rose.
“And both of us know the history of our cultures and the stories of our pasts?” asked Goose, excitement rising in her voice.
“Well, yes,” replied Bear, catching on to what Goose was saying. “But we don't know each other’s stories, do we?”
“No!” said Goose, pleased that she and Bear had the same idea. “Why don’t we just pass the time until the end telling each other’s great stories! We have plenty of time.”
“Of course, explained Bear, now truly excited. “Please, begin!”
And so they sat, the two friends, under a dying sun, telling their tales of old as they waited for the end.
Time passed. The stories were long and enjoyable. Bear laughed at the comedic flair of Goose, and Goose applauded Bear’s dramatic retellings. They enjoyed each other’s company. Goose told the tales of the great Keeper of the Keys, and Bear told of the beautiful Silver Rose. And the universe got older.
The ground shook. Goose rose from where she was seated and Bear looked up at the dying sun. The shadows were now cast long. The sky was bathed in blood-red light as the star dipped one last time below the horizon. The light from the setting sun lit up the faces of the two companions.
“Goose?” Bear called, unable to take his eyes away from the last sunset.
“Yes, Bear?” she replied. “I’m here.”
“Goose, I’m scared.”
“As am I, friend, as am I.” She, too, had fixed her eyes on the dying star. “But it shall be over soon. And it shall not matter that we’re afraid.”
“Will it hurt, do you think?” asked Bear as the shining disk kissed the horizon.
“No, not at all” answered Goose.
“Then I’m not scared anymore, Goose. I’m glad we found each other at the end of the world.”
“Me too, Bear.” Goose paused. “Do you think there will be more? Another universe? Another chance?”
“Why not? Didn’t we come from somewhere?”
“Of course. I wonder if they will appreciate life more than we have.”
“Yes,” replied Bear. “We had it much too easy. Maybe they will appreciate because they will have to work at it.”
Goose chuckled. “Maybe.”
The friends sat in silence again as the sun began to fully disappear. Just a few moments remained. The pair could not see the few remaining stars wink out and the rapid collapse of the universe. They could not see the wall of existence quickly rushing towards them. They did not see anything but that final, beautiful sunset.
The universe was old.
Only a moment remained. The sky as quickly turning black, no stars, no light. Only a moment remained.
The universe was old.
The Bear and the Goose stood close together.
“I love you, Goose,” said Bear quietly.
“I love you, Bear,” replied Goose, softly.
The sun was just peeking over the horizon now. Like a swimmer about to sink below the surface, it seemed to be taking a deep breath before the plunge. It seemed to cling to the last strains of life as the great orchestra approached the finale.
“Goodbye,” said Goose.
The sun dipped below the horizon and disappeared.
All was black.
The universe was no longer old.