I slid behind an empty crate as enemy fire flew behind me. The large metallic creatures pounding all around me. I took a breath and then another. Hoping, praying I wasn’t spotted because, being seen means death. Resistance means death. Hope means death. In my world just walking out of your house means death.

They’re everywhere. There’s no hope of escape, not that there would be anywhere to escape to.

We have people everywhere fighting against the enemy. Its not like it helps anything, they just keep coming. The only reason we fight is because, it’s our only option. It’s how we’ve found meaning in our lives. With death. Death. Death. Death. It’s everywhere. It surrounds me. It’s all I see when I’m awake and it’s all I can see when I’m asleep. And even when I get moment of peace. The creatures come back.