Happy New Year

2000 AD- post Apocalypse-

This can't be. It just can't. Gone, everything...

I'm one of the lucky few. One of the ones to survive the disaster. But I'm alone. My family, my friends... they all died in the Rain of Fire, the Day of Lavos. It's only been a few weeks since the Apocalypse. Just weeks ago, I could look outside and see a clear blue sky, the green fields around the domed city, the sunlight sparkling on the water and off the shiny domes of at least a dozen nearby towns. My biggest worry then was passing my final exams. It seems like ages ago, another lifetime ago.

Now I worry about surviving from one day to the next.

Everything around me feels dead. The haze blots out a cold sun, staining it's light a bloody red. Everywhere is grey, black, brown. Looking outside now, all I can see for miles upon endless miles are the craters, the slagged ruins, the broken skyline as a now-silent testimony to what was a flaming Hell on Earth. The air reeks of death, of poison, of decaying corpses, millions dead, killed by that... that thing-!

The rest of us who made it have come together, living in one of the few intact domes. We haven't heard word from anywhere else since the disaster. For all we know, we may very well be the only survivors, the two dozen or so filthy people who were able to crawl from the ruin. We've sent out some expeditions to try and locate anyone else, but all we've found is more ruin, and perhaps two or three others, barely clinging to life.

This motley band of survivors looks to me to lead them. I'm the Director's son, after all, and the oldest of our group- 19 years old. The burden is heavy and tiring. I try to tell them, promise them that everything will be alright. But we all know it's a lie. Already, creatures that were once harmless are changing, mutating. So far, our search crews have been able to fend these beasts off, but for how long? We've stockpiled what food we could find from the wreckage of the other nearby domes, but it's not much.

At first, we tried to give a burial for the dead... but there are simply too many, in so many poses and stages of dismemberment... we gave up, and have even degraded ourselves to resort to cannibalism, eating the dead like they were cattle. With a very limited supply of fuel, we can't amass an adequate force to move or make many repairs to the dome. We were able to scrap together a functioning Enertron, and have resorted to using that to sustain ourselves on a bare minimum of food to spare our dwindling supplies.

We're slowly losing hope. I want to break down and cry, but I have to be strong. For them, the children, who've lost everything as well. At night, it tears at my heart to hear them, hear the stifled sobs, the forlorn wails, the cries of the damned. They want a leader, to guide them through this darkness, but I'm just as lost as they.

We all miss the color. I know. Now our world is grey, black, brown, dead. It's like an alien world, pockmarked, lifeless, toxic.

We would have been celebrating the New Year today, running around the second ever Millennial Fair, welcoming a new millenium, shining with hope for the future, full of happy dreams of things to come.

But now, all we can look forward to is death. The youngest of the children vaguely remember the disaster, and ask me often what the world was like before. They hardly can remember what the color green is.

All we have to look forward to in the future is a fight to survive.

Happy New Year.