And on the last day it snowed, or rained, or didn't. Rivers flowed to distant oceans where fish, unaware of the shortness of life or its sweetness, continued to swim, propagate, and become cat food. Life went on as it always does; no turning the page, no dire predictions of eternal nothing to disturb the deer, the buffalo, the eagle.
There were moments unseen in the darkness when Something crept nearer, touching this soul and that one gently, lifting them like fine silk and away into a new darkness. Babies were born. In barns everywhere horses stirred in their sleep, or chewed a favorite stall door, and cows moved against the walls restlessly, as they always do. Chickens laid sleepy eggs, searched their feathers for snacks, clucking softly to themselves in the cold.
In hundreds of dwellings all over the earth people gathered up their possessions and set fire to them, in a glorious ritual of penance, despair, and terror. Some gave their belongings to neighbors, friends, family, the 'nonbelievers' who would not be there anyway to appreciate the treasures they had been given. The nonbelievers, no fools they, said "why thank you" politely and locked their doors.
Darkness came, the moon rose behind heavy clouds. People bid each other tearful farewells and fell asleep knowing this would be the last day of their lives.
The next morning there was the sound of rejoicing, and then the great hush of Mortified Silence as all over the earth people went forth to reclaim their furniture, clothing, and livestock. Outrage and lawsuits rang forth, and the lawyers rejoiced.