Alternative Ending to “Finis” By Frank L. Pollack

Alice crept closer to the man as the grey light rose upon the watery air.

“Kiss me!” she whispered suddenly, throwing her arms around his neck. He could feel her trembling. “Say you love me; hold me in your arms. There is only an hour.”

“Don’t be afraid. Try to face it bravely,” stammered Eastwood.

“I don’t fear it—not death. But I have never lived. I have always been timid and wretched and afraid—afraid to speak—and I’ve almost wished for suffering and misery or anything rather than to be stupid and dumb and dead, the way I’ve always been.

“I’ve never dared to tell anyone what I was, what I wanted. I’ve been afraid all my life, but I’m not afraid now. I have never lived; I have never been happy; and now we must die together!”

It seemed to Eastwood the cry of the perishing world. He held her in his arms and kissed her wet, tremulous face that was strained to his.

The twilight was gone before they knew it. The sky was blue already, with crimson flakes mounting to the zenith, and the heat was growing once more intense.

“This is the end, Alice,” said Eastwood, and his voice trembled.

She looked at him, her eyes shining with an unearthly softness and brilliancy, and turned her face to the east.

There, in crimson and orange, flamed the last dawn that human eyes would ever see.


A town had prepared for this very moment, moved the whole city down miles, far enough that the new star would not harm them.

A new society is created from the ruins dawning fear that anyone who tries to go to the surface will be destroyed in seconds.

300 years passes, their supplies drop and population rises.

The people from the ruins have never seen the day of light in 3 centuries, so they have no clue as to what is happening on the surface.

A group of activists protest and request they check on the Earth’s surface once more.

However, the majority believe it is still dangerous to go up.

War erupts below the surface and casualties go up every day.

Finally, the ruler of the surface dwellers gave in and allowed a team to go up to the surface to see the current conditions.

Weeks pass by as they prepare a recon team to go up the the surface.

The day comes and the recon group come to the large rusty door, the size of a two story home, that has not been open for 300 years.

It budges open after some hard and determine turns.

A soft white light emerges from the crack and the recon team could not believe what their eyes see…

Green and blue…

Alternate Ending to “There will come soft rains” by Ray Bradbury

In the nursery the jungle burned. Blue lions roared, purple giraffes bounded off. The panthers ran in circles, changing color, and ten million animals, running before the fire, vanished off toward a distant steaming river…
Ten more voices died. In the last instant under the fire avalanche, other choruses, oblivious, could be heard announcing the time, playing music, cutting the lawn by remote-control mower, or setting an umbrella frantically out and in the slamming and opening front door, a thousand things happening, like a clock shop when each clock strikes the hour insanely before or after the other, a scene of maniac confusion, yet unity; singing, screaming, a few last cleaning mice darting bravely out to carry the horrid ashes away! And one voice, with sublime disregard for the situation, read poetry aloud all in the fiery study, until all the film spools burned, until all the wires withered and the circuits cracked.

The fire burst the house and let it slam flat down, puffing out skirts of spark and smoke.
In the kitchen, an instant before the rain of fire and timber, the stove could be seen making breakfasts at a psychopathic rate, ten dozen eggs, six loaves of toast, twenty dozen bacon strips, which, eaten by fire, started the stove working again,hysterically hissing!
The crash. The attic smashing into the kitchen and parlor. The parlor into cellar, cellar into sub-cellar. Deep freeze, armchair, film tapes, circuits, beds, and all like skeletons thrown in a cluttered mound deep under.
Smoke and silence. A great quantity of smoke.
Dawn showed faintly in the east. Among the ruins, one wall stood alone. Within the wall, a last voice said, over and over again and again, even as the sun rose to shine upon the heaper rubble and steam:
“Today is August 5, 2026, today is August 5, 2026, today is…”


A man with a fedora, satchel, whip, and looks similar to Harrison Ford enters the home.

He scurries around the house looking for a place to hide with seconds til doom.

At last he finds the best suitable shelter to hide in to survive.

He opens the refrigerator door and empties the contents.

The earth is rumbling, sky is blinding bright, and can feel his demise.

He successfully closes the door!

The man, woman, and children are incinerated in seconds.

The refrigerator flies through the sky, tumbles several times til it lands miles from the blast.

The man pops open the refrigerator and crawls out, first thing he sees is a prairie dog.

Then taken by the government and is washed down by a radiation team.