The Book of a Thousand Endings (working title)
an excerpt

The sky was on fire. Flames licked at the clouds; their edges curled back on themselves, smoldering and dark. Chunks of ash drifted down like rain or snow, and everything below was bathed in ashy residue and the red glow of fire. The people living below had long ago fled, since the very air was toxic and wreathed in smoke. While the air itself was not on fire, only the clouds, there were no stalwart souls willing to remain for this apocalyptic sight.

None but one. One person remained. He was standing on a hill, watching. He was outfitted in a full-body suit and mask so that he could breathe, but he did not move as he watched the awesome sight unfolding across the sky above him. In one hand he held a small book, wrapped in plastic so it would not be damaged. After a while, almost as though shaking himself awake, he almost abruptly pulled it out. Procuring a pen as well, he wrote something on its pages: “Suddenly, the fire ceased.”

Suddenly, the fire ceased.