August 28, 2259
It's been six months since my three-year-old little girl died. Her name was Abigail, and I saw her body evaporate one morning.
Evaporate. Just like that.
I've decided to make a written account of what has happened to Earth since the bombs went off, all of them.
All of those goddam nukes went off
and my little girl disappeared into thin air.
Everything is gone: The buildings, the cars, computers, robots, everything.
And now, I'm writing on bits of burnt paper with a piece of charcoal, in field of dead and blackened trees. The explosion of heat didn't just kill life on Earth. It killed Earth
my compass points South now and it's always freezing, always. Every day is colder than the last.
This place used to be upstate New York.
August 30, 2259
Eight years ago the wars started. At first it was just nation against nation, but then it became ally against ally. North against South, neighbor against neighbor, then everyone started killing each other.
My wife died when someone threw a grenade through the window of our bedroom just after Abigail was born. It took her three days to die and the hospitals didn't have any medication.
After that I took Abigail and hid in the woods. I tried to get away from violence. The fumes of the pollution started to infect people. They started to see things.
Some people began to hallucinate but then the stronger they made the bombs the stronger the fumes became. People began to mutate. Some got faster, stronger, some just became deformed.
But I see things: people, if you could even call us that anymore.
I know when to move onto another location. I know when to hide, when it's safe to eat, I know who will die.
But I don't care. There aren't many people left anymore since the last blast from the nukes. I saw the wave of heat kill my daughter, but not me. I was further away from her, standing behind a cement wall.
We were playing hide and seek
That blast killed everything.
October 15, 2259
I found some more paper.
I have been on the move for two weeks straight. I can see those murdering bastards before they reach me. When my child died, the flash from the explosion, it did something to me. It made me see flashes of the future.
They almost got me once … ripped my right arm off with a dirty axe.
But it doesn't matter to them. They are even less human than the ones dropping the bombs. They don't just kill people, they eat them.
They eat anything; whatever they can get their hands on. The ground is blackened hundreds of feet down. No one can grow anything and there are hardly any animals left.
Whoever survived the last bomb has to keep running from mutants, cannibals, communists
you name it. People aren't safe inside their burned and broken down houses. You just have to keep moving.
Run, eat, move; that is what is left of the human race: mutants and bastards.
But they won't kill me. I can keep running. I can outsmart those things, things that don't even know what it means to be human anymore.
I can run and hide. I eat worms, or rotted animal flesh to survive. I won't stoop so low as to eat someone. No matter how inhuman they may be. I've stayed alive for this long, and even though I don't know if I will be alive tomorrow I know that I won't die without a fight. So even if I die and I have no wife or child, I can leave behind these shreds of burnt, bloodstained papers. They have my words of the last bits of the human race, the animals that we have become.
If someone is reading this, assume that I am dead. But know that there was someone out there who could still write. Someone out there who wasn't willing to give up what it means to be human: to feel, to think.
If someone is reading this: run, hide, and stay alive.
I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THE COPY, STEALING, OR DISTRIBUTION OF MY WORK. THIS PIECE IS WRITTEN AND OWNED BY LAUREN PARKER, KIKO-CHAN13, LAPARKER13, AND LAPARKER. YOU DO NOT HAVE AUTHORIZATION TO USE MY WORK WITHOUT MY PERMISSION UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, NO EXCEPTIONS! ANY UNAUTHORIZED USE OF THIS WORK FOR PROFIT OR DISTRIBUTION IS NOT PERMISSIBLE. ANY PARTY OTHER THAN THE AUTHOR OF THIS ORIGINAL WORK DOES NOT HAVE THE RIGHT TO EDIT, CHANGE, OR REPOST (by a party other than the author without full credit given to the original author) THIS WORK USING ANY TYPE OF TECHNOLOGY, COMPUTER, MOBILE DEVICE, TELEVISION, OTHER SHARING DEVICE, FUTURE TECHNOLOGIES, OR HARD COPIES. DO NOT USE WITHOUT EXPRESS CONSENT OF THE AUTHOR UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE. BY READING THIS WORK YOU HAVE ACKNOWLEDGED THE CREATIVE RIGHTS, AND INTELLECTUAL OWNERSHIP OF THIS PIECE BY THE AUTHOR LAUREN PARKER, KIKO-CHAN13, LAPARKER13, and LAPARKER.