I remember the day it happened...
"My name is..."
The day everyone in the world was dragged onto the same level...
"I'm the last survivor of what was once a group of seven..."
The rich became the same as the poor, royalty became no better than their subjects...
"For the past three days we've been chased around West High School..."
Everything we once followed: Money, religion, family, friends, everything was ground into the dust...
"I'm currently taking refuge in one of the higher rooms, where I've found this video camera..."
No longer were we people separated by social, political, or economical statuses...
"However, I know for sure that very soon I will not be a survivor any more..."
Now we were slapped with the cold hard truth that we were nothing but a bunch of animals...
"I'm recording this so that anybody who finds it will remember the group that fought along side me..."
It always surprised me that it took a crisis like this, faced with the inevitable, for us to realize this truth...
"Their names were..."
But what can we do when we call out into the air, and are greeted by nothing but the taste of death, the scent of blood, and the sound of silence?
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