drown yourself (in me) endoftheworld!au (insp by; 'there will come soft rains' by dysanial on LJ.) +UNEDITED. part one. something’s wrong when you regret things that haven’t happened yet. -1940, The Submarines. // “It’s raining,” she says quietly, fingers curling in the bouncy blonde locks as she stares outside. The rain dances against the blacktop while the worms crawl out, lulled by the aroma of fresh earth. Brownish pinkish creatures, they wriggle against the ground, struggling in the heavy downpour. “So? What’s so important about rain? It rains like every other day, it rains like yesterday, and the day before yesterday, and the days prior to that,” her mother says in distaste, bustling herself with china plates covered in layers of grease and grime. “Stop daydreaming at the window and help me with the dishes.” She doesn’t complain, nodding as she parts away from the cool glass, settling down next to her mother to dry the wet porcelain. Her fingers trace across the roses, all ornate and dainty against the white plates. “Dolly! Mother!” The door flings open, and Dolly looks up, to find her young husband and older brother soaked from the rain. With a soft click of her tongue in disapproval, Dolly dries her hands on the dishcloth, hurrying over to strip away her husband’s jacket. “Darling, why didn't you use the umbrella I bought for you?” she frowns, cupping Jacob’s face with her pretty hands, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “You could’ve gotten sick!” He laughs, making Dolly’s frown deepen as she pulls away, grasping the end of her dress and making way towards the bathroom for towels. “Mother, you should really hear all the conspiracies and theories downtown! Some are so bizarre, while others you can’t help but laugh at.” her older brother, Henry, chortles. “I was visiting Taylor as to give her a bouquet of flowers, and her family is in an uproar about the rain.” “You know, mother, most folks think that we’re going to drown. Drown!” Their mother chuckles. “As if we could drown; this is a desert we live in.” Dolly listens, yet says nothing as she walks up and drapes the towels over her brother and her husband. She is a believer; she believes the the world is ending, and the world will vanish. She sets the dishes down, listens, smiles, and converses, yet her gaze always directs itself back to the window. Towards the rain. // It’s been raining for nearly eight days without stopping. Though Dolly’s family’s skepticism about the world ending decreases, no one says anything about it. The house grows solemn and quiet. What was once a place filled with freshly baked muffins and melted chocolate turns into an earthy hovel, the scent of roasted chicken and golden apple turnovers no longer overpowering the rain outside. The laughter and music during late evenings is replace by the static of the radio, as everyone is desperate for a word of what happens outside of their home. Cold infiltrates the clothes and penetrates the bones, no matter how high Henry cranks the heater. Eyes stare out the window, and Dolly watches as the worms slowly disappear from their nirvana, perhaps, afraid that too much goodness comes with something disastrous. “Jacob?” “Yes, sweetheart?” They lay side by side on clean linen sheets, Dolly’s eyes gazing at the troubled look on her husband’s face. “Do you think the world’s going to end?” He stares at her, brown eyes seemingly searching for an answer, before laughing quietly. “You’re exactly like a woman. Women always worry, even though nothing’s happening,” Jacob hums in confidence, though Dolly can hear the slight shake in his voice. “The weather’s unusual, Jacob.” The laughter falters on his face and Jacob’s smile subsides. He grows quiet, eyes blinking as he keeps them trained on Dolly’s blue irises, who gaze back just as intently. Silence is heavy, yet none of them are strong enough to break it. “Go to sleep, dear. You’re tired,” he says after a long pause, pressing a kiss against her forehead. Although it’s meant to be a reassuring gesture, Dolly doesn’t feel reassured at all. // Henry and Jacob stop going out for runs of supplies. The weather’s heavy and the storm rages outside. Rain slaps and hits against skin, the coldness crawls through their pores and bathes in their muscles. It’s frightening. “What if it doesn’t pass?” Dolly whispers fretfully, her face growing paler and paler each day. She’s been growing sick, and Jacob worries that she’s caught a disease from the cold. “It will. Next thing you know, silly child, there will be a rainbow outside,” their mother scolds, her frail hands running through the grey roots of her hair. Despite her firmness, worry is shown the moment she gives a glance towards Dolly. “Go sleep, dear. You’re looking quite...ill.” Dolly, full of fear, nods and scuttles off to bed. Anxiety whispers negative thoughts in her head as she tosses and turns—desperate for sleep. // She is not sick. It’s pregnancy. // Tension is thick as Dolly rubs her stomach, huddling close to her mother. Henry has gone out alone for a quick and final supply run. Initially, Jacob was going to go with him, but after hours of crying and begging from Dolly, it was inevitable that he had to stay. “Oh, mother, we should’t have ever let him go out!” she weeps quietly, her fingers flying up to wipe away the stream of tears. Three days has passed. Three days of rain, three days with no word from Henry. “The signal’s getting worse,” Jacob announces gravely, stepping out from the living room and into the kitchen. “The static’s eating up the words. Parts of the world are slowly flooding. The dam over at Hopeslot is already reaching its limit.” Their mother stumbles forward, Dolly’s tears merging into sobs as she wraps her arms around her mother and supports her weight. “Henry...Oh, my poor, poor Henry..” Dolly looks up and exchanges a tearful gaze with Jacob, as she leads their mother to the couch. Silence is heavy, and this time, no one makes an effort to cut it. // “Jacob?” “Yes, Dolly?” “Do you...do you think the world’s ending?” “Yes, my dear, I think so. But we’ll pull through; it’ll pass. We’ll be fine.” // Dolly flutters her eyelids shut with a soft smile, her arms resting against her stomach as she lies against her husband in their bed. The faint aroma of roses fill the air as the candles burn, illuminating in the far corner. The rain is a constant reminder of their dying world, but in the small room filled with various memoirs, Dolly feels as if she’ll always be alive. It’s not much; nothing extravagant or luxurious, but it's homely. “Mother’s taking an awfully long time taking a bath,” Jacob comments, pressing a quick kiss on top of his wife’s blonde curls. “Relax, she’s only taking a bath,” Dolly leans up to pat his cheek reassuring, a small smile resting on her lips. “Maybe, but let’s go check in case.” Dolly whines, nonetheless, sitting up. She smoothes the edges of her night gown, stretching a bit, before swinging her legs off the bed, taking a bit to adjust to standing. The blonde takes small steps towards her husband, almost immediately snuggling against his torso as the two of them walk downstairs. Her eyes take across the room to their front door, her heart feeling heavy with sadness as she diverts her gaze elsewhere. “Mother!” she calls out cheerfully, Silence emits from the bathroom, as the pair exchange dark glances, before Jacob leans over and knocks on the door with a coarse fist. “Mother? Are you there?” ... “She’s not the type who'd fall asleep,” Dolly trails off with a frown, biting her pink lips as her hand reaches out to rest against the doorknob. She crinkles her eyebrows in thought, fingers rubbing against the brass. “Mother?” Water trickles out from under the door, beading up against the lamination of their floors. Dolly’s blue eyes widen, not even hesitating to open the door this time. The tub is overflowing with water, spilling onto the floor and seeping out to the hallways. Next to it, the sink is also filled, water dripping down its sides. Their mother floats on top of the bathtub, her naked body unusually still. The smell of Dolly’s sweet pea shampoo fills the air, mixed with an odd, putrid stench. The two take several cautious steps closer, and Dolly covers her mouth with a hand, muffling the small gasp from her lips. Her body shakes at the sight, watching as Jacob presses two fingers against the side of her neck. The grave look on his face says it all. Though she is shocked, Dolly is not crying. Her eyes linger across the bathtub, resting on the faucet. The blue irises widen, her mouth parting into a small “o” as she points a shaky finger towards it. “J-Jacob, the faucet...” The faucet is not on, but the water still flows, spilling onto the tiles. “The water, it’s..it’s...flowing upwards from the drain...It’s flooding, Dolly, it’s flooding.” ( )
lol, i wrote this on another app and readjusted it. but i've written this all & never "stole" it from someone.