An endless arctic landscapes stretches in every direction. The frozen wasteland has an nasty beautiful quality to it. The thick snow has the ground in a tight hold. Other than that the weather is unnervingly calm. There are no clouds in the sky, not a the lightest gust of winds tries to disturb the vast tundra.
Almost nothing ever happens. All the snows had fallen, all the water has frozen, all the life is apparently gone. Ruins of a thousand civilizations lie buried beneath the snow and ice, never to be found. Even with all the secrets of the universe, none survived. I did say almost though. And that is the focus of this story - last, unlikely survivor.
Somewhere in the arctic desert that spanned across every horizon a single tiny flower was barely alive - an artifact of a world long gone, struggling to exist. Plants fortunately are blessed with having existence without all the needless complications of anything more than the most primitive awareness. This little flower had no idea it was the last living thing on this world, nor it needed to know. It had to will to live in the post apocalypse. Unfortunately the time of this tiny spark of life was coming to an end. The gentle petals lay motionless in the snow. The stem was shriveled and almost transparent, a single leaf was still attached to it but with every second the relentless force of gravity was mercilessly pulling it down.
There was a soft snap as the last leaf broke from the little flower, then it made a quiet thumping sound as it crashed down to the ground. The finality of the moment was hardly dramatic. So every life on the planet came to an end. The flower would stay broken in the snow for eons, until, if ever, something happens to move this dead world once more.