"You were there.  Can't you remember?,"

shouted Sarah.  It was late autumn, and as the sun receded, a
breeze sent cold waves through both of their bodies.

"Honestly, I don't remember, I might have been asleep, or away,"

Jason considered aloud.

"No, you were there.  I remember you talking about the stars."

Sarah's proposition seemed surreal enough.  Somewhere he seemed
to remember the incident in the rusted, purple station wagon.  As
his memory returned, the dangerous canyons, brilliant reds,
oranges, yellows, fiery and vertical filled his imagination.  As
the large wagon swayed to and fro, to and fro, the road became
dangerous and as wild as a lava rapid.  It ran high above the
rest of the world, on a sheer, red, canyon wall.  And after the
car soon crashed and became stuck, narrowly bridging a descent
straight down into infinity, Sarah, Jason, and Ann emerged from
its wreckage.

As they sat, chilled by the brittle desert air, they talked.
Soon they noticed how incredible the sky is, black with an
infinite intensity.  Then three small, dull red objects, visible
from space, drifted peacefully above them.  In a moment the sky
opened up, functioning as a giant lens.  Three planets drifted
above them in amazing grace.  Objects of interesting color moved
in perfect orchestration across the sky.  The stars themselves
moved for a trillion years time.  After five minutes, as quick as
it had occurred, it ceased, and the three red objects drifted
into the blackness again.

"I was there, Sarah," recalled Jason, "but somehow it seems to me
like it must have been a dream."

"I once thought that too, Jason.  But now I believe it really did
happen."

As they talked their attention again fell to the sky.  After just
a few minutes, both were nearly asleep when they saw three small
red point-like objects drifting through space.  Only their speed
seemed to suggest they were not staying at the azimuth as they
had before.  Soon it became apparent that the objects were
falling towards the ground.  They continued to fall one after the
other in perfect trajectories towards the western horizon.

Soon the first and farthest fell out of sight, followed almost
immediately by a soundless, blinding red light.  Regaining their
senses, even as the suburban earth swayed to and fro, they
witnessed the second drop under the horizon.  Having prepared,
they made use of the light to observe the infant mushroom cloud.
In curiosity they looked up to see the last atomic bomb
descending a few miles from where they were.  And as the last
struck, the entire earth turned red.  They found it
uncomfortable, but they soon were able to weep their last, and
lie down along the red road.

In the morning they awoke with the knowledge that Ann was gone.
Their hearts bled, as did their eyes.  The sky and everything
else was ironically shaded blue, and green, a even touch of
purple [sic].  These colors were unfamiliar.  They were bright
and painful. They created eye-sores and aches and pains.  Both
Jason and Sarah wanted only to sleep.  They managed to pull each
other from their spots in the road, and headed towards the porch.

Later that night, Ann awoke Jason and Sarah.  As they began to
stir, Ann gave them three small beads from which to remember her.
She told them of what heaven is like and about each of their
fates.  They listened intently but were too weak to stay awake
for long.  So, kissing them each goodnight, she tucked them into
their beds.  She was pleased at how soundly they were sleeping.
She said good-bye to each loved one as the family slept, and then
lovingly departed into the recesses of their lives.