I feel sick as I write this… My throat burns from another acid reflux. I hope I haven’t contracted any disease from any chemical-laced food that we found recently. My hands have been shaking slightly for the last few hours, but I put this down to fear, stress and hunger.
When the attacks first happened we all saw the hatred and ruthlessness that accompanied them. I thought that I would welcome my death, hopefully pain-free if possible. But now that the human race is on the brink of total destruction I feel incredibly angry.
Our species is almost gone. Shall I disappear without a whimper? After all, who cares when you’re dead, right? Yet the other half of me wants to fight. Fight to protect every great piece of music or song ever composed, to protect every great book ever written, to protect every fantastic movie ever made. I want to protect every great and wonderful memory every person has ever had or shared. How dare they attack our homes and destroy our lives, and everything that we, as a race stand for! But who am I? An insignificant speck of dirt who merits no worth to these monsters.
I can hear heavy rumbles above the ground. I think it may be an approaching unit of Squawkers and their machines. The rumblings feel like they’re getting closer. I don’t think this is a scouting mission as I can hear the sound of marching feet. There must be many as their footsteps are thundering over the humming whirs of the machinery. There must be hundreds of them, otherwise they would have energised directly here. Pieces of dirt and concrete are starting to crack overhead under the oncoming weight, falling like grey hail stones.
I can now see down the long stretch of sewer from one of the many makeshift offices here, and all I see is intense fear. Every face I glance at has the petrified look of “is this the end?” painted across it. Some of the younger children are trembling badly as they try to shield their heads from the concrete rain. Others are vomiting what little they have left in their malnourished bodies.
I have just been sick again and the sweat is pouring off me. I can hear explosions close by, I think they have found us and breached the compound. I can hear my fellow humans screaming in agony as they try to fight. I’m scared, shaking as I hear the children crying. Our gun fire is pathetic, no match for the extreme alien weaponry as the noise gets louder, closer.
Oh no, I can see gold swirls materialising everywhere… they are making me dizzy as I stare at them. They are here. I can see Squawkers stepping out of thin air down the tunnel, there are lots of them. I’m very frightened, but it’s pointless trying to run, I’m trapped anyway. If there is a God, I hope he’s waiting to welcome us home.
Oh Christ, there’s a blinding white light beginning to flood the tunnel.
I’m sorry about the stains that may blot some of this letter, but I can’t stop the tears. I gaze at them, hypnotised as I watch the blue ink blend with the wetness as all around me begins to illuminate. But it’s okay, the words that I write shall linger long after, whatever form they may take. My heart aches as I know that the end of me, the human race and everything we have ever known is at a violent end. I finish this letter with the fact that I now understand why we are so special. No matter what anyone has ever done in life, good or bad, know that as a unique species, I forgive you. But most importantly, I love you all.
Yours truly,
James Robert Jones Jr
Age: 19, occupation: human, resistance (K. I. A.)
Bibliography
Kurtus, R, School for Champions, (2015),
Centripetal and Centrifugal force (modified by myself),
www.school-for-champions.com
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Contents
Chapter 1. The Room
Chapter 2. Forced Hands – Daniel’s Story
Chapter 3. Unrest
Chapter 4. Judgement Day – Tom’s Story
Chapter 5. Lost Hopes and Plans
Chapter 6. Interview with an Alien – The General’s Story
Chapter 7. We Don’t Know
Chapter 8. The Angelic Deceit – John’s Story
Chapter 9. A Final Conversation
Chapter 10. Backwards Glance – Mark’s Story
Chapter 11. Checkmate
Chapter 12. The Last Letter – James’ Story
Bibliography
Blurred Vision: Seven billion voices about to be silenced Page 21
