Option ADesperate to keep her husband warm, Lois grabbed the old, broken wooden rocking horse. Its worn, smooth surface felt strangely cool against her trembling hands.
Clark’s breathing was a shallow rasp, his body had been icy beneath her touch. She could feel him slipping away, and she had to try.
She heaved the horse into the dying embers. The dry, old wood caught quickly, flaring with a brief, furious burst of orange and red light, casting dancing, macabre shadows across the room. For a few precious moments, a wave of heat radiated outwards, a fleeting warmth that momentarily pushed back the encroaching chill.
Lois got back under the covers and huddled closer to Clark, pulling him tight against her, trying to give him every ounce of the fleeting warmth. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. A weak, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he looked at her. "Lois..." he whispered, his voice barely a breath. "You... you always knew how to... keep me warm."
"Just hold on, Clark," she begged, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the sweat on her brow. "Just a little longer. We'll make it."
But the warmth in him was already fading, consumed too quickly by the vast, unforgiving cold. The single, bright burst of flame had been their last flicker of hope. The kryptonite had done its work too well, spreading through his system, preventing his body from healing, stealing his life force. His eyes, fixed on hers, slowly lost their light, their focus blurring into a distant, empty gaze. His body went limp, a dead weight in her arms.
Lois screamed, a raw, primal sound of agony and despair, but there was no one to hear it. Only the wind. She clung to him, pressing her face against his chest, listening for a heartbeat that had ceased to exist.
Behind her a sharp gust blasted in through the shattered window, scattering hot embers like sparks from a struck match. Without the spark guard - forgotten in her panic - there was nothing to catch them. One ember landed on the rug. Another found the hem of a curtain. And in the blink of an eye, the room began to burn.
She didn’t feel the heat. Only the silence. Smoke curled thick around her as the flames spread, hungry and fast. The rug smoldered. The curtains ignited. The rocking horse - splintered, charred - was at the center of it all, feeding the blaze with memories and wood too dry to resist. Lois sank to the floor beside him, arms wrapped around what she couldn’t save, as the fire closed in.
When the firefighters reached their brownstone it was already too late.
And the snow continued to fall, burying the house, burying the world. Their families, on their way to reach the cabin through the impossible storm, never arrived. Their cars, lost in a white-out on an unseen patch of black ice, slid off the treacherous mountain road, plunging silently into the ravine below. No one would find them, no one would ever know.
Only the blizzard remained, a silent witness to the end.
Congratulations - you’ve chosen the Tank Ending, everyone is dead, you really shouldn’t have burned a piece of Clark’s childhood. The End
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Fictathon Prompts:Want:- Angst
- A snow storm
- A wooden rocking horse
Don’t want: - Lex Luthor
- The Superman revelation
- Children
TOCComments (FDK)Fictathon Master List~~~ \S/ ~~~
