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"Finally Theirs" (c) Demelza Watt

My computer tells me I wrote this in February of this year, but unfortunately I backed up my computer at that time, so I have no idea when i ACTUALLY wrote it, but my guess would be sometime in the later half of last year. wink

[The Prologue]


Insurgents had been broadcasted all over the news. A battle for world dominance had long since begun. Fleets had approached the banks of alien harbors, blasting nuclear warheads into what would become unknown and barren lands, void of all human existence. The foreseen apocalypse had begun within a few short hours and soon after the far reaches of the globe reported an unsurpassed barrage of great deaths in their cities. People and livestock were dying in uncountable numbers, and water and food supplies had been quickly poisoned by the radioactive atmosphere, carried to its final destination on man-forged winds. Women and their children quickly grew sick, and men watched on in horror as their lives, too, came to an early end.

The respective governments released into the public sectors self-called Suicide Boxes. Each contained four hypodermic needles, and four vials of morphine. One vial alone had within it enough drugs to kill three grown men. It had been the governments' wish to bring a hasty end to their peoples' suffering. The end was to be painless and quick. The suicide boxes did this for them.

Many millions of innocent lives ceased to be; except the few who were strong enough to survive. Those that could had survived in underground bunkers, others; in the great depths of the ocean, submerged in life-saving submarines, filled with enough food and oxygen-creating machines to last two or three lifetimes.

As the first generation passed, the stories of how and why the devastation occurred grew more decadent as their lives faded and the next generation of uncertainty took their place.

Psychosis had begun to develop deep inside the bunkers and submarines; people wanted out, and they wanted out fast.

From the bunkers spread across the planes of the world, men and women alike scrambled for the freedom their mind was so desperate for.

It was only when the third generation came to be that the bunkers and submarines were given the alarm. Freedom was finally theirs. They could seek out the wastelands above, search and try rebuilding their rightful lives, free from the walls of steel and stone that had surrounded them since the moment of their birth.

What their ancestors had prayed and hoped for would finally be theirs.

Your work is flawless, and I look forward to reading more. It really is good because I don't usually go for modern day stories but these are really good.