The Beginning of the End

I still remember the day, when the bombs fell, nobody knew what to do, there was no safe heaven for us. Everything just, was gone… nothing left except crumbled buildings, the air became toxic, we had to find old gas masks. nobody could survive, only we survived… we hid in the underground, at least we could kind of breath there, we banded together to create our home, but I always thought there was more, other survivors, outside the underground, nobody would believe me, I often would go to check the radio, hoping there was other life somewhere out there.

In the aftermath of when the bombs rained down, chaos ensued, leaving nothing but crumbled buildings and toxic air. Desperation led us to seek refuge in the remnants of the underground, where makeshift gas masks became our lifeline. Despite the grim reality, a spark of hope ignited within me—I couldn't shake the belief that there were other survivors beyond our shelter.

In our sanctuary, a community emerged, born out of necessity and the shared struggle for survival. Yet, my restless spirit pushed me beyond the boundaries of the underground, driven by an unshakable conviction that life persisted elsewhere. I frequented the radio, yearning for a signal that would connect us to a world beyond our own, but my claims were met with skepticism.

Amidst the ruins, I clung to the notion that our survival story was not an isolated one, that somewhere in the desolation, other souls endured. 

But still… no one believes me.