[ WP ] The world is slowing being erased by a void . How do your characters spend they 're final days/hours/minutes on Earth before being erased ?

Life is bizarrely self-referential. We've created and consumed all of these movies and books and plays about everything from the magical to the mundane, putting characters and towns and whole *planets* into being that otherwise would have never been. Words on paper, creating new worlds. It's strange, then, that the possibility of life's current events had never occurred to anyone before now. 
 
 Or maybe they had and I just do n't remember. 
 
 Texans would have told you it started in Texas, but it started in India long before that. No one knows where it truly originated, because where it truly originated does n't exist anymore, if it ever really did. It was noticeable when it first began; buildings that used to be there suddenly were n't - people we used to know suddenly disappeared in front of us. Our world was being erased. 
 
 Now no one can remember what used to be. There are pockets of life missing from our memories, which used to be filled with people or places that disappeared and dragged all of our memories with them. It sounds sad, really, but I like to think that maybe they were erased from this world to be written into another. 
 
 Campfire and copper pots fill a tiny barn. A girl with excited eyes starts to tell a ghost story but then forgets that ghost stories are something people tell at campfires. The boy she grew up with hands her a marshmallow, and she stuffs it in her mouth. The boy laughs. 
 
 `` Someone ought to teach you about campfires someday,'' he says, sticking a marshmallow onto the end of a stick. The girl looks sheepish, but ca n't muster a response with her mouth full of marshmallow. 
 
 We're in Iowa right now, which I know by the note I wrote myself at some point which reads: You are in Iowa. Names for places do n't matter much anymore, because there are n't many places left. But I still like knowing where I am, because I ca n't remember where I'm not. 
 
 I like these kids who are here with me, as much as I can. They remind me of something I've forgotten. They think I remind them of their mom, but they did n't remember what that was before I explained moms to them. My own mom had died before the void came, so her memory ca n't ever be taken from me. 
 
 To pass the time, I write a lot, and we watch a lot of movies to help put life together. They let us know that some things used to exist. Like, apparently there used to be some towers in a place called New York that we mourned when they fell. And in another place there was a huge white house where someone important lived. I try to include these in the stories that I write, because they're in so many stories that have already been written. Even though I know that eventually I, too, will be erased, perhaps I'm creating realities in other universes where my stories can live, until they're erased. Words on paper, creating new w
