My First Check-In

It’s been weeks since the invasion. Weeks since the skies darkened and the alien army arrived. As I sit down to write this, a strange unreality settles over me, the sense that none of this can possibly be real. The world I once knew has been irrevocably altered, twisted into a waking nightmare. The beings who rule us now resemble a grotesque fusion of razorback pigs and towering elk, encased in armor that gleams with an otherworldly sheen.

Today was my first mandated check-in.

A line of enslaved humans moved forward in silence, heads lowered, bodies rigid with fear. We shuffled beneath the watchful presence of the enforcers, the air thick with tension. Each step closer made the danger feel heavier, more intimate. These towering figures hold absolute dominion over our lives.

When I stood before one of them, its eyes locked onto mine with cold intelligence. In that moment, I felt impossibly small. Its power was undeniable, its strength unquestioned. We have all seen what happens to those who resist. Defiance is answered swiftly, and lethally.

Every word spoken, every movement made is measured against the constant threat of punishment. We are pawns in a game governed by rules we do not understand, enforced by creatures who feel no hesitation in ending a life.

And yet, even here, beneath the weight of fear and submission, something survives.

In quiet corners and stolen glances, whispers move between us. The idea of resistance spreads, fragile but persistent. We may be imprisoned, but our spirits have not been extinguished.

Now I’m back in my makeshift shelter inside an abandoned office building, the walls offering only the illusion of safety. Still, I feel a grim resolve taking hold. We are living under alien oppression, but as long as some of us are willing to fight, hope has not fully died.

As long as there is breath in my body, I will keep posting.

If you are reading this, please send help.