"Reports have shown they are coming closer." The reporter was in the middle of the street of New York City. His face was full of stress. His sweaty hands tightly gripped the microphone as his brown eyes stared to the camera. The sky behind him with full with enemy airplanes. "The planes are surrounding us." Just then, a large green missile appeared on the screen, hurling towards Earth at an impossible speed. People on the streets started screaming and running around at top speed, knocking over the shocked reporter. The camera rolled down to him lying on to the ground, a small tear rolling down his ragged features. "Underground ." He said as another green missile hurled towards them. The camera went black.

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A small boy stared at the screen. "Momma! Momma! Bombs are coming." He ran to his mother, who was gently painting the beautiful basket of fruit on the living room table.

"Have you been playing War again?" She chuckled, lightly flicking a cherry red over the canvas.

   "No mom!" He rolled his eyes at his mother. He crossed his skinny arms across his chest. "But it was on the news! The reporter said so." He said in a distressed voice.

   "Honey. The news isn't real, how about you go play with Sally?" She turned back to the boy, but widened her eyes when she saw a bunch of airplanes in the sky. She dropped white paint all over the floor and ran outside. All the neighborhood was in the street, terrified.

   Robert, her kind next door neighbor, ran from the crowd to the mother. "Annie. We are going to the bomb shelters, the-" He whispered through his pant and dragged her and her son to the crowd.