Bleys Robertson

Text ©️ 2023 Bleys Robertson. All rights reserved.

It is not known, to the majority of people who reside on these lands, going to and fro, engaging in their affairs, that the human race was never from here. At least, that’s my theory. Billions of years ago, a voyage of sorts embarked through the void of space, towards a new Earth, that would sustain life. Even after billions of years, fragments can be found in the soil and on the shores, resurfaced from the circle of changes, of which this earth causes.

People who possess the intellectual superiority required to discover this are called mad and insane by people who seem too interested in their own affairs to listen to science. Even prolific scientists dismiss these theories, for the work required to research them takes too much valuable time. Learning and discovering information regarding these theories is imperative for me. It’s what I dedicate my life to.

Chapter One

I stood out in the open air, admiring the intricate landscape of the rocky beach where I reside. The tall cliffs were made up of details that could only be forged by the sands of time. I clambered over rocks and into the cold sea. The waves were very choppy and made it hard to stand in one place. Therefore I had to continue wading through the shallow waters along the shore, picking up samples to test back in my cottage, which was situated above the cliff.

After four hours of collecting samples, my legs grew tired, and I knew it was time to head back home. The rocks formed a natural staircase, which I could clamber up and get back to my cottage. My cottage was built in the 1880s and featured a sheet metal roof and a small veranda. My favourite part of my property was the small band rotunda in the backyard, which overlooked the sea. I always sat in there, reading books and doing research.

Before I could get to the door of my cottage, I was approached by Farmer Walkey. He was a local farmer, probably in his 60s, who often visited for a cup of tea and some scones. He always wore an old cardigan and carried around a small brown bag.
“Hello, Farmer Walkey,” I said.
“Hi, how are you?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Would you like some tea?”
“Oh yes please!” he said, in a delighted tone.

I unlocked the side entrance, and we entered in through the galley kitchen. I turned on the jug and prepared some teacups.
“So, how’s your research going,” Farmer Walkey enquired.
“Pretty well, if I do say so myself,” I replied as I poured the tea.

‘Pretty well’ is how I would describe the subsequent 10 years of my research. I made incremental discoveries, but I was never recognised by any scientists. In those ten years, I managed to get some fundraising from the Edmund-Gorman Foundation, which was a local charity which specialised in helping out the community. I also wrote my first book: ‘A Voyage of Time Gone By’. The book saw small success, but never really went any further than a few small bookshops in the area. I also got a few short appearances on television, but only on slow news days.

I must remind the reader that in ten years, not a single scientist even paid a seconds-worth of attention to my theories. The local bookstore owner, Martha Weybridge, informed me later on that the book had only been purchased by interested locals and folks who thought it was a science fiction novel, only to return it later. It seemed pointless at the time, and I don’t know why I kept going, but I guess there was hope, deep down, that I could make a breakthrough and prove the ignorant scientists wrong.

Chapter Two

As I woke up, early in the morning, it seemed to me that today was a completely regular day: consisting of collecting samples, doing research and maybe some leisure if one was lucky enough. But today was the day when everything changed.

Only seconds after finishing breakfast, which consisted of bacon and eggs, I heard a loud knock on the door. I almost mechanically spiralled into a panic. Old Farmer Walkey had been deteriorating at a pace that would worry even the most unworried of people, and I was concerned that this was the bad news we all expected. To my surprise, however, there was a completely random man at my door whom I had never seen in my life.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he said in a less than confident tone of voice. “Is this Mr Richards?”
“Yes, how can I help you?” I asked.
“I’ve been looking into your theory,” he said, as my heart started to race. “And I think that it is most plausible. My team is very ardent about this theory, and would love to work with you and see your research.”
“You know,” I said. “It’s been 10 years, and a scientist has never approached me. They all simply ignored me. You can’t possibly imagine the way I am feeling right now in this moment.”

After I showed the scientist, who I learned was named Professor Dommett, my concise plans, he left to discuss these with his team. I was left feeling hopeful and overwhelmed with joy and happiness. This was the day that changed my life. Soon I would no longer have to rely on donations to fund my extravagant projects! Oh joy, maybe I would even have a team! The prospect of such a thing was enough to make anyone joyful and excited. For once I felt a deep sense of optimism, which followed me around for the remainder of the day.

Chapter Three

It had been two days since Professor Dommett’s surprise visit, and I still could not get over my excitement and joy. The Professor had changed my life, and it was at that point that I realised this fact. Suddenly, to my surprise, there was a knock on the door, and my heart started to beat with excitement. I could not help myself from thinking about all of the great things that might happen when I opened that door.

I opened the door, and suddenly my heart sank. It was Farmer Walkey’s wife, Janet Walkey.
“Hello Mr Richards,” she said.
“Greetings Janet!” I said, trying to be optimistic.
“Unfortunately, Old John has been transported to the hospital,” she said. What truly surprised me, was that I had never heard Farmer Walkey’s real name, but John seemed to suit him.
“Go on,” I said.
“He might not make it, unfortunately,” she said, as she started to cry.

I felt a deep sense of emotion, and I too started to cry. There was a sad emotional aura around the village after that. The vicar, Reverend Paul, encouraged the townspeople to send thoughts and prayers, which I took part in. I started to lose hope in the research and spent my time sitting in the rotunda, contemplating John’s life. He was a brilliant man, and the thought that I could lose him broke me.

This was the lowest part of my life. One day, I simply had had enough and headed towards the cliff face. I looked down at the rocky beach that once brought me such joy. It was now dark and depressing due to the stormy weather. I suddenly heard a voice behind me.
“Oh, Mr Richards,” said the voice. “You know as much as I do that that is not the way to go.”
I turned around and was overjoyed to see old Farmer Walkey standing there in the rain. His glasses were fogged over and his clothes were drenched, but he simply smiled at me, as if oblivious to the outside conditions.
“Shall we go back to my place?” he asked.
“That sounds splendid!” I said, as it just started to sink in that he had just saved my life. I will be eternally grateful to him for the great deed, he did that day.

I perhaps spent about 2 hours at Farmer Walkey’s house. It was an old Victorian house situated on a small hill, surrounded by farmlands. The house was made of brick and weatherboard and featured intricate detailing on the frieze. We sat in the parlour drinking tea, and discussing my research, and it was this moment that regained my hope. Life was starting to look worth living, and I was filled with a new sense of optimism.

Chapter Four

It had been about two months since Farmer Walkey saved my life. I made some interesting discoveries such as fragments found in Invercargill, which was aided by my new team. Farmer Walkey had been recently diagnosed with dementia, which was upsetting. I often visited him and observed his condition. He was starting to become more noticeably forgetful.

“Hello there John,” I said, as I entered the Walkey’s homestead. Farmer Walkey was sitting on a rocking chair in the entranceway. I sat down on an ottoman next to Farmer Walkey, and we had a very deep conversation.
“What happened to Iris and Duncan and all the rest of them?” he said in a concerned tone. He was referencing his parents.
“They’re dead, John,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “They’re dead.”

We often had conversations like this, where his confusion was very noticeable, but it did not take away from his personality. We went down to the pub on a Sunday after church to see his friends. We loved visiting the pub and enjoyed watching football on the new black-and-white television.

He became quite occupied by reading books, such as the book ‘Animal Farm’ which had been published that year. He often sat in the sunroom in the Walkey homestead, and every time I found him here, he appeared as if he was in another world, hypnotised by the literature he had in front of him.

After noticing Farmer Walkey’s newfound interest in literature, I decided to visit Martha’s bookstore to buy some books for him. Martha’s store was built in the 1880s and featured large bay windows on either side of the front door. I walked in and looked around. The shop had tall bookcases with all of the latest books, and even featured a new section with the latest books, such as ‘Animal Farm’, ‘The Pearl’, and ‘Cannery Row’. The store was in the centre of the village, and was the home of literature for the townspeople, and was frequently visited by university students.

I finally chose ‘Brave New World’ by Aldous Huxley, which had been written 13 years ago. It seemed like an agreeable book, as Farmer Walkey had previously read ‘The War of the Worlds’. As I left the store, I felt a peculiar feeling in the air, as if something was not right. As I walked down the street, it felt as if everything were silent. The usual sound of children playing was absent, the sound of birds had vanished, and the silence sounded almost loud. I tried to speak, but no sound was to be heard. Abruptly, I felt the ground shake, and as I looked to the sky, I saw I falling star heading straight towards the village.

I woke up with a sharp pain in my back, and my memory came flooding back to me. I looked around, but could not locate myself. I felt a throbbing sensation in my head, and every step I took felt so unnatural. I stumbled over debris and concrete and began to realise my location. I saw the local hills, the mountains in the distance, and the tall cliffs along the coastline. The village area around me was utterly unrecognisable. It looked like an explosion of some sort had occurred. I could still make out the foundation of the bookstore, and part of the spire of the church. What on earth had happened? I had no idea at the time, but I was focused on attempting to get home.

As I walked up High Street, the extent of the destruction became very noticeable. The village, which had a population of approximately 500 people, was almost completely destroyed. The village hall, which was situated on the hill, was still intact, so I decided to make my way there. I became worried about Farmer Walkey, who lived in the surrounding countryside. I worried about the townspeople, who were most likely all dead.
“Oh, God!” I said, completely aloud. “What did I do to deserve such a thing!?”

When I got to the village hall, I had an even clearer vision of the destruction. I could see destroyed houses, landslips, and blocked roads. There wasn’t a single person in sight, and I started to feel as if I was alone, banished to die in this horrible wasteland. I looked around, and saw my cottage on the other side of the hill, tucked away from the village. The side wall seemed to have collapsed and it was hanging off the cliff. The band rotunda was nearly off the edge and seemed as if one could simply push it off.

Without warning, I heard a horrible screeching sound coming from the village, and saw a peculiar craft, that almost looked like an aeroplane. Then I suddenly remembered my theory. What if this was the next voyage? New life sent to Earth through the vast void of space? This could be the destruction of humanity and the start of a new regeneration. I never anticipated such a thing, but it seemed so obvious. This was the end of the world as we knew it.

Chapter Five

That night I was restless, and could not sleep. I had made my way back to my cottage but at about 3 a.m., I woke to a loud, industrial sound coming from the village. It sounded almost as if one was hitting a large cymbal. I raced out of my house and headed toward the hill. From the hilltop, I could see the spacecraft I had seen the night before. It appeared to be opening. My heart started to race, as the cymbal-like sound grew. I had to get out of the village immediately.

I found a horse at the local common and headed toward Farmer Walkey’s homestead. When I got inside, I noticed that nobody was home. Farmer Walkey and his wife had likely escaped when the falling star struck the village. I noticed that the radio in the parlour was left on.

“Hundreds are dead in New Weybridge after a falling star struck the village. The entire town has been flattened with not a single building in the village centre standing. A bizarre object has been spotted in the village centre, and some people have reported hearing loud noises coming from this object. The council urges anyone in the region to leave immediately. Residents are already in flight, with 4,000 people fleeing to surrounding cities.”

I was astonished by the news. I started to ponder the possibility of intelligent life living inside the craft. It was not to be ruled out. After hearing what the radio had to say, I went on my way to Christchurch. It was a city with a population of 160,000 and seemed like a safer place to be compared to the village. After a 1 hour ride on the horse, I reached the closest railway station. The station was crowded with people anxiously buying tickets to Christchurch. There were scared children, and elderly people clambering onto trains.

Once I got onto the train, I saw a flight of people pursuing the train. I learnt later that that was the last train to leave the station. Those people likely didn’t make it to Christchurch in time. On my train ride, I noticed many people as far up as Ashburton clambering onto trains to escape the threat. When I got to Christchurch, I found out why. The craft had opened, and mysterious creatures had been spotted leaving the craft. When someone approached these creatures, it is said he was wiped out of existence with some sort of laser-like gun.

It was also said that these creatures soon were hard at work creating land crafts which were as tall as a cathedral spire, and stood on four legs. These crafts were made of metal and had four rocket-powered guns situated on each corner of the craft. After hearing all of this, I had an urge of some sort to go back to New Weybridge and observe these crafts. After all, it was I who originally came up with the origin theory.

As I embarked on my journey back to the village, I saw massive lines of refugees, fleeing the impending danger from the creatures from space. I still to this day ponder how these creatures from hundreds of millions of miles away, through the gulfs of space, found their way to Earth. After a long train ride, I arrived at the village. The entire village was decimated. Every house, shop, church and warehouse was flattened, and all that could be seen was rubble and dislodged bricks on the streets. As I walked into the village, I saw the crafts. Their enormous bodies of steel and iron towered high above the flattened landscape and must have been at least 80 metres tall.

I climbed up Hall Lane, which was covered in landslides, and made my way up to the hilltop, where I felt safer. I camped out at the village hall and watched carefully every action that was made by these creatures. I wrote all of my observations in my diary, which I kept safely in my brown leather bag. What I observed during this time was highly alarming. The creatures were disembarking from their newfound base and heading towards Christchurch. As soon as I noticed this, I sent a telegraph to the local council in Christchurch, alerting them of this situation. And soon after that, 160,000 people began to flee Christchurch. Where to? No one knew.

The next night, I was awoken by a loud sound, and I looked outside to see what was going on. To my horror and distress, I saw the last craft leaving the village. I started to realise the scope of the calamity that was most certainly going to be caused by these extra-terrestrial creatures. The village was now forsaken, and the overt silence was almost unbearable. I decided to follow the craft and take note of its activities. Before I left, I went back into town for the last time.

As I walked through the streets, I saw a familiar sign. It read: Martha’s Book Company. I could still see the foundation of the building, but there was not a single book on the ground or body in sight. The ground was covered by cobble and concrete and was hard to walk over. After a thorough investigation of the premises, I went on my way to follow the craft.

Chapter Six

It was the beginning of winter as I started on my journey. I found the horse that I had ridden when I was fleeing New Weybridge in an old farm building. I rode as fast as I could in pursuit of the land crafts. But, for all I knew then, the entire country could be destroyed. As I headed through the surrounding towns, they too were flattened and destroyed.

I stopped in one of these towns to let the horse rest, and it was a remarkable sight. The entire village was destroyed, and in the distance, I could see an old grain silo, which was partly destroyed. I headed towards it to analyse the damage. It was a very disturbing sight, with broken plaster and stone surrounding the structure. As I entered it, I could see that the metal machinery inside the silo was melted and broken.

This was so disheartening, and it brought more anger to me. Why didn’t the other scientists foresee this? They went around claiming that the chances of anything coming from an extra-terrestrial planet were 1 million to one, and yet this had happened. Just as I was thinking about this, I heard the sound of footsteps coming from outside of the grain silo.

“Who’s there?” I called, hoping that this would scare any malicious person away.
“Mr Richards!” said an excited voice. It was Farmer Walkey. His cardigan was ripped and his bag was missing. He was covered in soot and dust, most likely a by-product of the destruction.
“What on earth going on?” he asked.
“The regeneration has started,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “There are creatures from the void of space, who have fighting machines which can destroy villages, and kill thousands of people. They’re heading towards Christchurch.”
“My God!” he exclaimed. “This is the end! The day of reckoning! We are all doomed to burn in hell, Satan has arrived!”

After a long conversation with Farmer Walkey, he explained that he and Janet had sought refuge in his cousin’s cottage in Springfield, but he had the necessity to go back to get some supplies from the Walkey homestead. He told me that the land crafts were close to Ashurburton, and were wreaking havoc on towns and villages along the way. The devastation was awful to behold and left me in complete and utter shock.

I soon needed to continue in the pursuit of the land crafts. As I resumed my hopeless pursuit, I saw the devastation first-hand. Towns and villages were reduced to rubble, with destroyed cobble on the streets and collapsed shingles everywhere. As I passed through Timaru and was aghast to find find the town of 19,000 people had been completely wiped out. There was not a house, shop or grain silo in sight that was not contorted out of recognition. There were few people in the town, and those who remained were covered in soot and rubble and wearing ripped and dirty clothing.

Many surrounding towns that were in the crafts track were completely destroyed as well. Towns such as Ealing, Temuka and Geraldine were now deserted wastelands of concrete and cobble. It was as if this entire new reality was some kind of twisted nightmare. Nothing made any resemblance of sense, and anyone living in this new world had to adapt or be brought to their early demise.

Rich folk were now refugees and mingled among the poor. The creatures didn’t care about wealth, race, religion or any other factor. They killed anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in the range of their horrifying weapons. No one was truly safe, and I knew that I could be killed, but I didn’t care, because I was better off dead. Even the most optimistic person would know this. This was the regeneration, and if one didn’t adapt to these new circumstances, death was inevitable.

Chapter Seven

I joined the lines of refugees, but not to flee from the creatures. I was heading directly towards them. It was an imperative move, and I was prepared to die for my research. As I continued up the highway, I saw the land crafts. They were presently destroying the town of Dunsandel, which was worryingly close to Christchurch. I saw it destroying an industrial yard, and once it had finished, it looked towards Christchurch. Anyone who was still in Christchurch was doomed to perish at the hands of the creatures.

The next day, the creatures made their way to Riccarton Bush, where they took their time destroying historic homesteads, ripping up newly paved roads, and killing anyone in sight. They had left a trail of fire and destruction along the rail line, and I, who was observing them from the safety of the bush, was alarmed when I realised that the bush was now on fire. As I went to escape, I saw the true calamity that the creatures were causing. The Riccarton House was now too on fire, and I felt a deep sadness to see such a beautiful homestead on fire and destroyed.

To my uttermost horror, I saw the crafts turn towards Central Christchurch. Their huge bodies of steel towered over the surrounding city, and they embarked towards the central city. Even the newly constructed New Zealand Express building was no match for their colossal size. They tore apart offices, banks, shops and cottages as if it was some kind of sickly sport.

As I entered the central city, I saw the cathedral on fire. The left wall of the cathedral had collapsed, and there was a sea of bricks and stone covering the square. I travelled on past Victoria Square, which too was destroyed and covered in flames. The giant oak trees were lit up with flame and were as black as coal. I then continued up until I got to High Street. It was usually bustling with shoppers, but it was now abandoned. I look up, and to my horror, I saw the guns of the craft come down upon High Street. I was knocked down, and when I woke, the entirety of the city centre was destroyed and reduced to rubble. Cobble and debris covered the streets and collapsed buildings made navigation nearly impossible.

The sky was blood red, from the flames that covered the city, and the air was filled with the scent of burning wood and rubble. I now saw that the hills were alive with flame, and saw the towering figures of the land crafts climbing the hills, presumably heading towards Lyttleton. I was filled with emotion, and I felt helpless.
“Why on earth is this calamity happening?!” I yelled, completely aloud.

The creatures were indefatigable, infallible and undefeatable, and everyone knew this. There was no sense of hope and no optimism in the air. Every person knew that there was no use in hoping for something that could not be achieved in any reasonable situation. I made the decision to head away from Christchurch, and towards Springfield to join old Farmer Walkey. As I set off on my journey, I noticed that the countryside was deserted, with not a person in sight. There were abandoned farms, empty homesteads and burning fields.

The air was filled with the scent of smoke and flame. It was the sort of scent that could fill one’s nose, and not leave until you were miles away. As I continued on the horse, I saw a motorcar, abandoned on the side of the road. I decided to take the motorcar, as it was a much quicker mode of transportation. As soon as I started to drive, I saw a land craft emerging from the hills. It fire its gun towards me, and I felt as if I was certain to perish at the hands of this horrible machine. As the projectile headed towards me I turned the motorcar abruptly towards the burning fields.

Surrounded by flame and smoke, I expected nothing but death, but by some sort of miracle, I survived. The craft headed away, towards Christchurch, and I rejoined the road towards Springfield. I passed livestock farms, which were now abandoned, with dead animals covering the fields, slain by the guns of the land crafts.

I then passed through Kirwee, which was completely abandoned as well. The houses were destroyed and the town hall was in flames. As I passed the pub, I noticed that it had been looted and defaced, and bottles of beer were scattered on the sidewalk, but now, there was no person in town but me. This was the reality for all the towns. The people who remained in town were hiding indoors, in cottages in homesteads, fearing their inevitable deaths.

Chapter Eight

I continued up the perilous road towards Darfield, and once I arrived at the once prosperous town, all I could see was rubble. Unlike Kirwee and Christchurch, there was not a flame in sight. Suddenly I was struck with a wave of panic as I noticed a spacecraft, which had landed in Darfield Reserve. The spacecraft was completely silent as I passed it, but I knew that the silence would not last for long.

As I left Darfield, I noticed that the land crafts were heading up the hill. I felt a sense of relief, as I realised that the crafts were no longer heading towards Springfield. As I continued up the road, I heard the screams of people in Coalgate and Glentunnel. Soon after, I arrived in Sheffield, which was silent as ever, and I sensed that the residents of the town had most likely fled over the hills.

Finally, I arrived in Springfield and headed towards the cottage where Farmer Walkey was in hiding. I parked the motorcar and approached the cottage. It was built in the 1890s and had a prominent bay window in the front of the cottage, which made the property quite appealing to anyone who happened to walk past it. I had small yellow flowers in the front yard and a small manicured front lawn.

I walked up to the cottage and knocked on the door, and Farmer Walkey opened it with a joyful smile.
“Hello there, Mr Richards!” he said, with a tone of optimism in his voice.
“Hello, Farmer Walkey”, I said with less optimism.
“You sound very pessimistic,” he observed.
“Have you looked outside,” I responded. “We’re doomed. I’m starting to envy the dead.”
“There must be something worth living for,” he said, now sounding concerned.
“There is not,” I said. “There is not.”

I entered the cottage and saw Janet and Farmer Walkey’s cousin sitting in the living room. They looked very concerned and were sitting aside from the windows. As I went to join them, I heard a loud industrial sound. When I went to look outside, I witnessed a land craft destroying some houses. It was worryingly close and began heading towards the cottage.

I ran towards my motorcar, but as the craft came closer, I realised that I could not escape. I quickly headed back towards the cottage, and into the cellar. It was an incongruous room, which was starkly contrasting with the ground floor. It was a dark room, with wood panelling on the walls, and creaky floorboards. There was a dusty pianola in the corner, which had been ripped open, presumably for a repair which did not go to plan. Janet closed the cellar door, and when we all sat in the far corner of the room: away from the door, and far out of the path of any large objects.

Abruptly, I felt a large vibration in the ground, which felt like an earthquake. The pianola promptly slid to the other side of the room and violently crashed into the wood panelling. As the shaking grew, the wood panelling started to rip away and gave way to the plasterboard, and as abruptly as the shaking started, it ceased. I looked around to see Farmer Walkey, his wife and his cousin looking understandably shocked by the event which had just taken place.

When I opened the basement door, I was hit by a strong light, which tingled my skin. It was sunlight. As I looked around, the cottage was gone. If not for the foundation, no one would have known that a residence had ever existed on the plot of land. As Farmer Walkey’s cousin saw this, he started to cry. His cottage was destroyed, and so was his livelihood. I observed that the motorcar, too, was not there. It must have been destroyed along with the cottage.

“You see what I mean?” I said, with desperation. “There is nothing worth living for.”
“There must be something worth living for,” said Farmer Walkey. “And there must be something worth trying for. Even something worth dying for.”
“How can you believe this?” I asked.
“I believe that somewhere in the spirit of man, there is some hope,” he said.

Chapter Nine

After the alarming experience at Springfield, I found a small abandoned cottage out of the path of the horrifying exodus. I started to write in my journal about my experiences.

The creatures have no prejudice, they simply destroy everyone in their path. The great exodus will be destroyed by them, as not one person knows where they shall go, or how they shall escape. If one is to flee without plan or order, they are destined to perish.

Over the next few months, the whole of the country was taken hostage by the creatures, and living became unendurable. The residents of this once-prosperous country were forced into hiding, for if they were caught by the creatures, they would certainly be killed. The great cities were reduced to rubble, farmlands burnt, hills flattened, and people exterminated. This was a new age, this was the regeneration of the earth, and this was a brave new world for the creatures.

The creatures started setting up dark factories and satanic mills in the cities and building residents for their fellow comrades. One could not recognise Christchurch now, as the city was eternally dark and full of soot and smoke, and above the clouds of grey were tall steel towers, which presumably housed the creatures. The towers were much taller than any building in New York and had small circular windows, and a circular shape. They were not like the hopeful and joyful architecture of the humans but were cold and dreary.

Earth under the creatures was a horrible time. Everyone you knew and loved had perished at the hands of those sick creatures, your home was destroyed, your life was doomed to end, and there was no hope. I often pondered how great it would be to simply die; to propel myself off a cliff, or overdose on some kind of drug, but somewhere inside of me, there was a small beacon of hope. Deep down, I knew I must live, or at least try to live.

From what I observed of the creatures, they seemed to have some sort of totalitarian society, one not too dissimilar to that of the Nazis or Soviets. I often saw creatures being executed by means of powerful projectiles and saw the flashing propaganda on their towers and factories. It seemed like some kind of disturbed dystopia. One where not even the creatures were free.

From the small amount of hope I still had, I fantasised about how the creatures would destroy themselves. I pictured their society becoming corrupt (if it wasn’t already), and causing a revolution from the creatures, which would destroy the society. I often thought about this but doubted it would ever happen.

Chapter Ten

I was awoken at once by the violent sound of gunfire. I rushed out of my bed and ran to the window. I saw that two land crafts were firing at each other. The real war had just begun. Over the course of a day, the entire population of creatures was destroyed by a bloody and violent war, which tore through their society. It was a joyful sight to see creatures fighting against each other, as opposed to against humans.

The fighting was all over the country, like a deadly plague of destruction and death. Creatures were being killed by the minute, factories were being lit on fire, and those dreadful towers were collapsing. What a sight: a 300-metre-high tower, crashing towards the ground, with a satisfying metallic sound. The hills were alive with fire, but instead of being worried and scared, I was overjoyed.

It only took one day for the entire society to collapse, for every last creature to burn and die. It was a stunning and remarkable collapse, unlike anything observed in human history. From the death and destruction, people started to emerge. They were leaderless, unarmed and unprovisioned, but they were ready to rebuild the country and the world. This was the true regeneration. The human race had emerged from the destruction and was victorious.

I returned to New Weybridge only two weeks after the great collapse of the creature’s society, and I was astonished to see it was being rebuilt already. The country was being rebuilt from the ashes of the past, and it was a grand sight. I saw old Farmer Walkey and his wife in the village, I saw Martha Weybridge and the vicar. The residents of the village were pouring back in, and the town was being rebirthed.

Of course, there was fierce debate about the possibility of the creatures coming back, and it was quite possible that the creatures would, but that was up to fate. One could not help themselves from being optimistic. If the human race could be as resilient as they were during the invasion, they could accomplish anything. Humans could venture to the gulfs of space, bring peace to the world, and solve poverty. Humans were unstoppable. Nothing could stop the human race now!

The end.