So, this week I’m going to be taking a look at another Ray Bradbury story, one that’s a little more obscure than the previous one I wrote about. That story is the 1951 tale, “The Last Night Of The World.”

Be warned, though, it is kind of a bummer.

Our story opens on an unnamed husband and wife, talking while they watch their two daughters play in another room. The husband asks the wife what she’d do if she only had one night left on earth. The wife explains that it’s not really something she’s thought about, and the husband tells her that she probably should, considering that the world is going to end sometime that night.

The wife is somewhat taken aback by this, and asks him if it’s because of bombs or war. The husband says no, then explains that for the past four nights he’s been having dreams saying that the world would end. He also talked to a bunch of the men in the neighborhood, who it turns out had all been having that exact same dream.

The wife admits that she and her colleagues were having the dream as well, and notes that there doesn’t seem to be anything in the paper about the world ending. The husband says that there would be no need for that, because if everyone had the dream then they should know already. They then wonder a bit why no one’s screaming in the street, and the husband responds that fear is a reaction to the illogical, and the whole thing seems pretty logical to them.

They wonder for a bit about what they should do on this last night of their lives, then decide that they should probably do the dishes. Then they put the kids to bed and wonder for a bit if they should leave the door open, as well as if the kids know what’s about to happen. The husband doesn’t think they do, since they didn’t bring anything up, and they wonder if they should tell them. They decide not to, and to let them spend their last night in peaceful ignorance.

They kiss for a time, and the husband asks his wife if she wants to cry. The wife says that she doesn’t, and seems very accepting of the whole thing. They go through the house, turning off all the lights before getting ready for bed themselves. They lay down, but the wife then realizes something and goes back to the kitchen. When she returns, she explains that she left the faucet in the kitchen running, and had gone to turn it off.

The two of them find this extremely amusing, laughing for an extended period before saying good night to each other.

This story seems to be a little less apocalyptic than most stories about the apocalypse. There’s no great cataclysm, no wailing or gnashing of teeth, just a quiet end that our two main characters accept with dignity. Rather, they just go through their nightly routine, doing chores and putting the kids to bed.

As mentioned before, this story is a bit of a bummer: stories about the end of the world usually are. At the same time, though, there’s a kind of comfort throughout the story: the husband and wife aren’t facing the end alone. They have each other.

I think that’s a pretty powerful thing.