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WithOut A Touch [Monologue] by Hakeem Ali-Bocas Alexander

(He breathes heavily, his voice is low and trembling as he speaks into a small, flickering video recorder, the dim light highlighting the fear in his eyes.)

Here I am, in what feels like the final chapter of a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Outside, the world is unrecognizable—a silent battlefield under a sky too dark for midday, haunted by dangers we never saw coming. They came from beyond, these… these entities, these invaders, turning our blue marble into a ground zero for an invasion we were never prepared for.

I’m trapped in my car, my supposed sanctuary, now just a fragile bubble of safety amidst chaos. The streets are deserted, save for the eerie movements I catch from the corner of my eye, movements that vanish when looked at directly. The air is thick with an ominous hum, almost electrical, like the atmosphere itself is charged with impending doom.

Fugitive Recovery Agent

What are they? What do they want? Questions with no answers, not that it matters now. Our military, our weapons… nothing made a difference. We’re not fighting flesh and blood but something else—something beyond our understanding.

My family… I can only hope they’re safe, hidden away like I am, waiting for a dawn that promises some kind of salvation. But as each minute ticks by, hope fades a little more, swallowed by the growing realization that salvation may not come.

Why am I recording this? Maybe as a testament, or perhaps as a warning, if anyone ever finds this—if there’s anyone left to find anything. I’ve seen what those things can do, the havoc they wreak without a touch, without a sound. Our greatest achievements, our tallest monuments, now just playthings for their amusement or perhaps their disdain.

I’m scared. I won’t lie. Not of dying, but of dying alone, in this car, my world reduced to four windows and a locked door. The irony isn’t lost on me—a planet full of people, and yet isolation finds us at the end.

So, to whoever finds this, know that I hoped, I feared, and I fought in my own way. And if you’re out there, still fighting, still hoping… know you’re not alone. Not really. Our stories, our struggles, they connect us, even in the darkest of times.

(Looks directly into the camera, a determined spark in his eyes.)

We are more than the sum of our fears. Remember that.

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