The earliest memory of my Father.

I'm really young and it always starts while I'm in the middle of a conversation with my Dad he claims never happened. We're riding in his truck and I'm too small to see anything but sky out the windows with the occasional curved lamppost which now look oddly familiar.

"You see, son, the world is going to end it's going to happen soon." He tells me without taking his eye off the road. "You need to be ready for it."

"When is this going to happen?"

"Soon." His voice sounds different than it has before or since. It's gentle, with just a touch of sadness.

"Why?"

"Because everything must end."

"H.." I swallow hard, "How does it..."

"The last time it happened He used water. This time it will be fire." My head is flooded with images which still haunt me today and I feel like I'm going to throw up. "You have to be ready."

This is the last thing I remember.