And then I am standing outside the room. Although I cannot recall leaving the room I sense it is behind me. I am staring up at the violet and fuchsia clouds as they rush through the sky to an unseen point. An unseen horizon. And then I hear the screaming. Wailing. Shrieking. Both men and women crying out in agony, in fear and in the hopeless realization that the world is ending. There are a few scattered palm trees. The ground I am standing on rises in a gentle grade to my right and there is a road or street there. And I see people running. Running in the direction of the clouds. Pushing other people out of the way in a mad frenzy. Some of the people have stopped, fallen or collapsed. They lie on the ground, some silent and some wailing and moaning. I do not feel afraid. I only KNOW. And I marvel at the beauty in the sky. This impossibly fast moving sky that has seemed to suck all the color from everything else. The people, the palm trees, the earth. Everything but the sky is a varied shade of grey.

This is what it looks like when the world ends.