A Year in the Shadows

It’s been a month since my last post, and I’m still alive, though that word feels temporary these days. For close to a year now, I’ve existed in this nightmare, and each day the weight of it grows heavier. I’ve made it this long by staying quiet, by laying low, and by not drawing the attention of the soldiers. To provoke them is to invite suffering, or worse, death. I’ve witnessed enough of both to know the line is razor-thin.

Today, a new delivery of people arrived freshly kidnapped humans torn from their homes, lives, and everything they knew. They came in battered, terrified, and clutching each other like fragile lifelines. Some were still crying, others frozen in a daze, unable to process the hell they’d been thrown into. It never gets easier to see, and I’ve seen this happen more times than I can count. Each new face, each pair of wide, fear-filled eyes reminds me of the day I was brought here.

The questions from the newcomers never change, but they hit like shrapnel every time.

“What is this place?”
“Who are they?”
“Why are they doing this?”
“Is anyone coming to help?”

My ears go numb as they speak, and my throat tightens with words I’ll never say. My voice freezes because I have no answers. None. I’ve been here for nearly a year, and all I know is that death is the main outcome. That’s the only truth I can offer, but I don’t. I can’t. Telling them the truth would shatter what little hope they cling to, and hope, fragile as it is, seems to be the only currency left among us.

The world outside these walls feels like a distant memory, yet I know it’s there. It has to be. Someone out there must see what’s happening. How could they not?

From above, downtown San Francisco is unrecognizable. The aliens have transformed it into something grotesque and alien. Acres of pods stretch across what was once a bustling cityscape, now a barren terrain carved into a twisted nightmare. Huge trucks roll in weekly with supplies, guarded by soldiers in their gleaming armor, their antlers cutting the sky like blades. Surely someone has noticed.

But maybe they haven’t. Maybe no one’s looking. Or worse, maybe they’re complicit. Is our military under their control? Have they surrendered, or are they fighting a battle we can’t see? The questions claw at my mind, but there are no answers, only silence.

I don’t tell anyone here about my computer. If they knew, they’d rip it apart in desperation, hoping to send out a plea for help. I tried, of course. I’ve sent messages to my family, the police, anyone I thought might listen. But the responses never came. Only silence.

So, I keep posting here. I don’t know if anyone is reading this. I don’t know if this is reaching anyone at all. But I have to believe it is. I have to believe that someone out there is paying attention, that someone will see this and do something. Because if I lose hope, I fear the queen will smell it.

She’s always watching, always waiting, feeding off more than flesh. She knows when hope fades. I’ve seen it in her victims, the way she picks those who’ve already given up. Their shoulders sag, their eyes dim, and she knows.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this. The weight of it all, the fear, the helplessness, the endless waiting is unbearable. But I have to keep posting. I have to believe that someone out there will find these words and understand the urgency, the terror, the reality of what’s happening here.

Please, if you’re reading this, don’t forget us. Don’t let this horror stay hidden behind these walls. Whatever you do, don’t stop looking.