Fable "The End", by Sergio Nocedal and Luis Prieto

The End

It had to happen. Not a prayer in the world could stop it, no man or machine could flick a switch and start over. Everything was falling and burning, huge thuds like thunder from buildings half in ruins. Chills traveled through spines and eyes traced the path of destruction that laid ahead, leading to paralysis and then helpless death. This did not last, however, it took only a few moments to end the world, with only a handful of survivors. Maybe they were lucky, maybe they were chosen, by the gods, by destiny or maybe the world itself, it didn’t matter, though, not to them at least. And so, when everything died down, and there was almost no one left, a few stones moved and fell. Out from a fallen structure came a dog, walking with caution, scared but unscathed.


This dog looked around, the end had brought such peace and quiet to the earth, all that was left was the crackling of fires and the dirt moving beneath his feet. Gaining a little more confidence, the dog started walking a little faster, less fearful, looking for survivors. He had no luck for the first hours, then, light footsteps from behind him graced his ears. A cat, white as snow, approached him.




“Have you seen anyone else?”

“Alive? No, I’ve had no luck”

“Shame” The cat sighed.

“You can join me if you’d like. There doesn’t seem to be another living creature anyway”

“Yes, I guess I could. Suppose we could help each other.”


And so it began a time of mutual support that none of the animals were able to measure. Whereas the dog gracefully walked with innate strength, the white cat seemed to balance itself among trash and debris with instinctive ease. More than once did they survive those warm but icing hours, seconds that were not day or night but timeless reminders of chaos and destruction. It was that same bond that kept them alive, a union that could fight adversity through cooperation, each with their natural strengths, complementing their every weakness.


The dog advanced nervously as his ears were pounded by the sound of nearby thunders. Its tongue, dried as hell, hanged freely towards its filthy paws. Never had he been hungrier, never had a living organism been as starved as he was. Its stomach desperately craved food. The white cat was no different.


"There's no food left, its over"

“No, there has to be something left”


And it had to happen, it just happened. It's not a matter of evil, it's just reality at its perfect form. Someone had to take that anguish, someone had to take in that eternal guilt. Suddenly, the cat was no longer a cat. It wasn't a friend anymore, nor an animal, nor a survivor. It was, indeed, the only different thing up there in between the dirt, the burned ruins and the lawless sky. The dog felt its pupils change in size, its paws sinking into the mud and the air getting heavier for no reason. Blood squeezed through its veins as it felt its own inside the cat’s luring entrails.


“Now there’s no one left”


The dog wept, finding himself alone, he lay on the floor, next to the cat’s remains, once white now tinged with red. A world that could’ve been, a world that would’ve been was now lost between tempted fangs. And it was bound to happen.

WRITTEN BY Luis Prieto AND Sergio Nocedal

View luis_prieto's Full Portfolio