2003.

It has been two years.

Two years since that fateful day.

The day that every plant life on the planet withered up and died.

No one could explain the global phenomenon, logically. No virus or bacteria responsible could ever be found. It just happened as if the world was cursed.

As if we are cursed by God.

We are cursed by God!

Without a single plant growing anywhere in the world, the land becomes barren. The animal kingdoms become depopulated within a single month. Plants-eating animals first, then the meat-eating ones.

And within two months, paper money becomes completely worthless as the world economy collapses.

The Government is still holding onto what little power and control they can muster, but at the current rate, they too will be gone.

Everyone hoards as much foods and supplies as possible, hoping to wait out this trial – this deadly trial from God as the Church has repeatedly claimed.

Only the faithful may be given salvation. But the faithful continues to die of starvation each and every single day, no matter how many prayers and atonements were given.

This is no trial from God, for he has abandoned us.

That is the truth, isn't it?

Isn't it?

I am at a loss to what to do now. Joining the mass and praying did not solve anything.

It never did.

And more and more people are beginning to understand that now, deserting their shepherd as their faith begins to wane while the ravenous hunger takes hold.

We have taken everything for granted. And now there is no food left.

No food for me or my children.

I have sold everything that is worth anything just to survive another day, and I have done thing that I am not too proud of, all to feed myself and my children.

My wife has left me, leaving me heartbroken when she left. She has never loved me! She has told me that herself when I beg her not to leave. She has even taken my oldest daughter with her.

My adopted daughter.

I truly hope that Stephanie have something to eat these days, unlike me and her younger brother and sister.

I am at my limit. I don't think I can last another day.

"Dad. We are hungry."

Joshua calls out on the floor. He has become so skinny after all these months. His younger sister, Misha is also the same.

My youngest daughter is too weak to even utter a single coherence word. She lays there on the couch, panting faintly.

"I know that you are, Josh. I am as well. But please try to hang on. I will try to find something for us to eat soon. Just hang on."

I response and try to hold in my tears. Seeing my children like this simply break my heart. I have failed as father. I have failed as provider. I truly have.

Taking my shotgun, I head back out into the street along with many others, all searching for something to eat. Just something to eat. Just something. Anything.

Water is plenty as it constantly rains and floods thanks to the destruction of the ecosystem, but foods is nowhere be found.

Not even a single bird could be seen or heard. Not even a worm digging in the dirt. Anything that can be eaten have already been eaten.

Likewise, the supermarkets have been stripped absolutely clean months ago. There is nothing left on those selves.

Despite that, people are still wandering and crowding at the supermarket, looking for a deal with what little scraps of food they have. Foods have become the new currency in this new world. With food, a person can buy anything and everything.

Just seeing an expired can of bean for trade makes me drools.

But I have nothing of value to trade. My strength is failing me. I could barely stand upright.

"You look like you won't last much longer. Where do you live? Anyone is living with you?"

A tall and fairy broad person asks me from behind. He looks like he won't last much longer either, and his dark eyes show his desperation.

I don't really want to think too much about it, but many of my neighbors have disappeared.

They obviously didn't die, and their home seems to be broken into. They were taken. Their family were taken.

Oh God!

I need to leave. I need to leave here. Leave here as soon as possible.

"Hey Mr. Connors."

Someone calls for me as I pull myself from the crowd.

I turn towards the young woman, who is dressing far too provocatively. She is a friend of my daughter, Stephanie, back when they were in high school.

However, they have a falling out after graduation over a boy, so the girl doesn't show up at my house anymore.

"Susan."

I response as Susan approaches me. Unlike my youngest daughter, Susan still has some meats on her frame. She is faring better than most people thanks to her beautiful look.

"Where are you going, Mr. Connors? Do you have any food? I can make it worth your while."

Susan asks me, leaning forwards, allowing her long hair to stream around her bare shoulders. And for anyone else younger than me, they probably take a good look at what she is offering under that loose tank top of hers.

But for me, however, I am too preoccupied with my own problem to even notice. Like every girl living in town, she is doing whatever she needed to in order to survive. In order to survive another day, just another day.

Perhaps, tomorrow will be better. Perhaps, tomorrow this nightmare will finally be over. One can only hope. By God, one can only hope.

I shake my head.

"I am sorry, Susan, but I don't have anything for you. No anymore."

I tell her and continue my retreat, without ever looking back.

I have tried to help her as much as I can with what little I have stashed away, but currently, I am in no position to help anyone. And no one will help in return.

Susan will find another person. She always does.

I hope Stephanie isn't the same. Oh God. Please don't let my daughter be the same. Death would have been better.

Darkness slowly descends as I wander the streets and roads, looking for anything to eat. For anything to eat at all. There is nothing to eat. Not even a blade of grass.

The shotgun in my hands stops anyone with ill intention from getting close to me.

They rather stalk easier prey, such as the countless girls.

Rape is rampant now days, and cannibalism is on the rise from the amount of people are missing every day. Young. Old. As long as they have some meats, it didn't matter.

This is what society has been reduced to. This is what we have been reduced to.

Everywhere I look, houses are emptied and looted and torched. There is nothing left.

Nothing left but enter the merciful night.

I return home emptyhanded like yesterday and the day before. Joshua and Misha have fainted. They are still breathing. Still breathing barely. There is nothing I can do for them except an easy release.

An easy release from this suffering.

God. Please let my children into your embrace.

Just let their sufferings stop even if I am burning in hell.

I pray and pray before spilling gasolines around the house. This is the best I can do since I am unable to give them a proper burial. Even if I have the strength, I don't want them to fill someone's stomach.

Oh God. Oh God.

Tearfully, I check my shotgun. Two shells stare back at me. Then one shell. Then there was none. Only ringing sound in my ears accompany my sorrow. My overwhelming sorry.

"Please forgive me, Joshua. Please forgive me, Misha. Please for give this father of yours."

I call out repeatedly as I load another shell into the shotgun. Flames burn brightly all around me, and they reveal what sins I have committed.

What I have committed!

Oh God! Oh God!

Taking a life is a sin. Taking one's own life is a sin. I am going straight to hell for what I am have done, for what I have done.

I truly am, but at least I can send my children to heaven instead.

It is the only thing I can do for them.

It is the last thing I can do for them. Please forgive me. Joshua. Misha. Stephanie.

With the barrel in my mouth, I pull the trigger and enter the night.

I have thought that is the end. I truly have!

But I found myself waking up on the couch with my head and brain completely intact.

They were not splattered all over the wall and floor before a raging inferno takes me into hell.

However, they are hurting.

It feels like a massive hangover as if I have been drinking my body weight in alcohol last night.

A scream pulls me out of the couch and out into the corridor.

It was Stephanie. She is yelling at her mother.

Tears running down her face along with overwhelming anger.

She is angry. She is furious. She is full of hatred.

Hatred towards her mother. Her adopted mother.

My wife is utterly shocked. It is like she has seen a ghost.

I have the same expression as her, seeing Joshua and Misha standing up the staircase. My beloved son and daughter are as shocked as me.

"How could you! How could you!? You gave me to those monsters! Those fucking monsters! And for what? For just a can of food!? For just a can of food!?"

I am unable to comprehend what is happening.

It was all a dream, right. All a dream, right?

"Dad! Oh God Dad! I am so happy to see you! Please don't let her take me away! Please don't let her! She is a monster!"

Stephanie hugs me tight, and my wife remains speechless. Utterly speechless.

Guilts and fears plaster on her face, and she immediately run out of the house.

As my wife did so, violence erupts throughout the streets with people crashing through their windows and rolling on the withering lawn. The lawn that once has been covered with lively green grasses not just too long.

Countless people are shouting at each other, cursing each other for all the things they have done. For all the things they have committed. No. For all the things that they will committed.

It isn't a dream. It isn't a dream. Not a dream at all.

With Stephanie in my arms, my eyes look towards the calendar hanging on the wall. My heart almost gives out.

1st of January 2000.

It is too late. It is already too late.

The world will fall into ruin after this day, and there is nothing anyone can stop it.

My arms tighten around my daughter, realizing that I will have to kill them again. Not just two of my children, but all three of my children.

I cannot help but cry. But cry at the inevitability.

Why God!? Why!? Is this my hell? My personal hell?

But before tears could stream down my eyes like unending waterfall, the world rumbles heavily and the cloudless sky casts a massive shadow over the entire neighborhood.

People in the street have stopped what they are doing and stare at the sky in utter shock. This includes my wife, who just didn't know where to go.

What are they all looking at?

What? What?

I need to know.

Once I slowly exit the front door and stepping on the withering lawn, I look upwards with my children.

All our jaws slacken as a massive spherical spaceship blocks out the sun and much of the sky itself. Not just one ship, but dozens of titanic ships.

They are moving slowly across the sky, and they are shaking the entire world as they did.

"Wow. It's Independent Day!"