My name is Bennett Miller. I am 19 years old, born on the 10th of October of 1975. I hope this diary finds you well, as this tells my story. Please keep it safe.
Before all of this happened, things were pretty simple. I lived in a small suburban neighborhood, the kind where everyone pretty much knew each other's names. I wasn't anyone special—just a kid trying to make it through high school with a dream to be successful.
My parents were teachers at the same school I attended. My father was the gym teacher, and my mother was the English teacher. It was kind of weird seeing them at school, but I didn’t mind. We always went on outings. Every Sunday, we went to the park, where my sister and I would chase each other around while laughing. I loved every single second of those moments. Life was ordinary yet enjoyable, and I would’ve never imagined the world I knew would be smashed to pieces in a couple of days.
Stupid politicians. I hate them. Their job was to help us, lead us, and make great changes, but instead, they dragged the world to chaos. They’re all so power-hungry, constantly yearning for more control over everything. For years, tensions escalated as world leaders fought for dominance. Their constant broken promises led to all of this.
When diplomacy didn’t work, they resorted to war. Sending missiles without any thought, to show off their power. They never regretted ending millions of lives—why would they? Their own people were mere pawns in their image.
But their own arrogance caught up with them. The very weapons they used to show off turned on them, sealing their fates. They died by their own hand, their own doing, just like the rest of us—victims of their own pride, trapped in the world they helped destroy. In the end, their hunger for control doomed them all, leaving nothing but death in its wake.
I remember that day clearly—the last day it would be normal again. I just finished school for the day, and I was excited to go back home and relax. I greeted my friends goodbye as I went inside my father's car.
“How was school, Benny?” he said.
“Today was fun! We had a lot of seatwork, especially English, but after that, we got to do whatever we wanted. Me and my friends were talking, laughing about so many things, you should've seen it!” I responded, laughing.
Dad chuckled. “Sounded like you had fun in school today. Mom made you your favorite food!”
My dad and I pulled in the driveway and finally got home. I couldn’t wait to relax and spend the rest of the day listening to music on my Walkman. As soon as I stepped in, I sniffed the smell of my mom's cooking. I greeted my mother and my little sister. They smiled and greeted me back. Wasting no time, I dropped my bag by the door, ready to do what I wanted.
I was sitting in front of the television with my little sister beside me, and my parents were talking, unaware of what was gonna happen next. The sirens went off, shattering the peace. Missiles started raining down from the sky.
Thousands of them pierced the sky like arrows, each one a harbinger of doom. When they landed, the ground shook violently, the noise deafening. Our house trembled like it was about to collapse on us. Explosion after explosion, windows shattered, sending shards of glass across the room.
The television flickered and cut to an emergency broadcast, but the sounds of people’s screams and the loud blaring of the sirens muffled the voice of the announcer. The ground shook. Explosions in the background grew closer and louder. My heart was racing rapidly.
My mother and father rushed into the room with fear in their eyes, their voices becoming more urgent. “Get out! Quickly!” they shouted, hastily packing what they could find. Time was ticking. They shouted at me to get out, but I just sat there, frozen in fear. My mind was blank. I was unsure what to do. It felt unreal, like a dream you couldn't wake up from.
My little sister clung to me, crying, her hands gripping harder every second. I tried to calm her down, to tell her that everything would be okay, but I knew that it wasn't. It hurt to lie. Everything we had—our home, our lives—was gone in an instant, without warning.
My father dragged us out of the house. His voice was sharp. “Bennett! Out!” I quickly lifted my sister but still felt paranoid. I thought to myself, Only a week ago, we were at the park, giggling while I was pushing her on the swing. Now, here she was—clinging onto me, sobbing uncontrollably. I was numb, but I forced myself to stumble out the door and escape.
I opened the door. The outside world was unrecognizable, in shambles. The streets were full of rubble and ash. The air was thick with smoke, and something was off… my skin started to burn and itch—radiation. The smell of fire was everywhere. Buildings collapsed, and radioactive fallout spread quickly like wildfire.
“This isn't real. This can't be happening!” I shouted, denial consuming my thoughts.
The noises continued—the constant wailing of sirens. People ran in every direction, their faces filled with horror. Some grabbed their children or their valuables, but others looked like they had no idea where to go. The atmosphere was filled with panic.
“Move it!” my father yelled. My sister trembled uncontrollably. I wanted to stop, unable to move, still terrified from what had just happened. But there wasn't time to stop, not with the ground shaking beneath our feet.
The once cheerful streets, filled with laughter, now lay deserted. But I knew this was only the beginning, the start of a nightmare that would haunt me forever. Little did I know I would be the only one left, the last life standing.
