Things just went downhill, after the Beasts came into my town. They were nothing we had ever seen, rotting and murderous, brutes, all of them. That's why we called them the Beasts. My mom and dad both died in the first attack, forcing me to care for myself for a few months. My name is Emily, Emily Warren. And I am one of the last females alive on our planet to this very day.
PLANET EARTH - CANADA - ONTARIO - APRIL 22th, 2053
I swung my legs over the fence, clutching my silvery knives tightly, slipping off the rotting wood, onto the dew covered grass underfoot. A low, tortured moan drifted to my ears, messy brown hair dangling before my stunning blue eyes. Rising into a defensive position, I crept around the corner, slender female body flexing neatly as I observed the empty street with caution. A single beast staggered from an ally, mournful cries drifting into the muggy afternoon air. Jaws tightening, I flicked the blades into position, creeping forwards. It didn't seem to hear or smell me, and than I noticed why it came out into the open. The body of a young child lay on the road, deceased for about a day, by the way the skin was still somewhat flushed. He seemed so petite and helpless as the Beast tore into it's left arm, blood dribbling from it's may as it filled itself on the child's flesh. I curled my lips in disgust, the rank stench of blood and garbage drifting towards me. Anger bubbled in my chest. This is a risk I have to take, I thought the myself, before lunging. I dug my weapon into the Beast's eye socket, before bringing my long leg into it's crotch, bringing back my knives before knocking it backwards with the blunt side of the knife, also known as the handle. It roared, spittle hitting my face, allowing me to see a revolting chunk of flesh dangling from it's jaws.
I cringed, but continued to swing forwards, starting at the bottom of it's stomach as sliding up, stopping just below the Beast's rib cage, spilling it's guts, which splattered my torn white t-shirt and jean shorts. As it collapsed limply, I wiped my dry hands down my bloodied clothes with disgust. Falling to my knees, I slid my slim arms beneath the male child's body, before standing again, lifting him into the air. "Sorry, kiddo..." I murmured, frowning. "You died so young..." my voice trembled, but I stood tall and walked away, the boy in my arms. Skirting into the shadows, I followed a familiar path, one I had followed many times. It lead towards a small shelter myself and a few other refugees had made our home at. Stepping into an ally, I knocked quietly on the door three times. It clicked, than swung open, allowing me into. The lighting was dim, although my eyes had adjusted over time. A boy around my age, assumed to be roughly sixteen, eyed the boy.
"Why do you bring this dead scum into our home, Emily? You must see this is pointless...you might as well be screaming for them hideous beasts to come!" he commented bitterly.
-to be continued-