'The end of the world' that's what the people back then called it when it was all happening. The oceans rose, the land disappeared, the sun became a danger that burned everything that it saw, and every day brought a new storm. Life was difficult and constant struggle, the things that people had learned over the years to take for granted became scarce and many lives were lost.

Then, just when the struggling masses didn't think things could get any worse, the ten thousand year ice storm came up the land and froze everything. Treasured resources became even more scarce, and constant fighting over the little that was left tore the survivors apart. Even more lives were lost, and common sense dangled by a very thin thread.

The hardships that had destroyed everything from what it once was did not last forever. After a long time the snow and ice finally gave way, and new lands rose from the waters, new life came to the world and the people that had managed to survive through the hardships the carelessness of their ancestors had caused were given the chance to live again.

The new land though a blessing compared to the scorching sun, storms and ice that came before it, was still different from the times of human prosperity, the world though more fruitful was still harsh and primitive, and the people could not so drastically change the land to suit their needs as what had been done in the past, as that is what had caused the world to end. Instead it was the people who would have to change in order to suit the land's needs.

The great animal spirits that governed over nature and guided mankind became concerned of man's plight, and offered to help man. They told man that they had lost respect for the land, nature and all living things, which is why they could no longer live so easily upon it. If they wished to survive man must become beasts and live in the way that nature told them to. If they could do this task they would survive and prosper once more.

Not all accepted the idea, there were some that turned the spirits offers down in the belief that man was and always should be above beasts. All others, who were willing to renounce their wrongs and live out the roll nature would give them, accepted the animal spirits offer, and man became beast, growing tail and fang and becoming as primitive as the new land.

Though most of humanity had become beasts and lived with nature and as it told them to they could not forget what it was that they once were. Many longed for the easy and conventional lives that their ancestors before them had, for the progress that made their minds more than that of an animals, for an existence grater then just that their roll in nature's circle of life could give them. Those who thought this way soon began to act on these ideologies, and as a result did not remain within the wilds for long.

Cities were built, Mankind populated the new world, and before long everything that existed long ago, existed once more, and life, once again, became comfortable. Just as comfortable, in fact, as the world had been before it had come to its unfortunate end. This of course raising concerns, people were not so neglectful to forget what had happened to them the last time their race was lucky enough to live like this, many began to wonder, 'Was the world, again, about to meet its end?'

The Government, it seemed, hadn't been much help at all. They simply cast the matter aside, stating that it was 'global warming' and nothing more, and that it was unlikely to ever occur again. Though many disagreed, none protested, and the voices of the people eventually died down, enough to satisfy the Government, that is. But in truth, only three knew the secrets of the doomsday: the Writer, the Widow, and the—"

"Someone's coming," said a boy with short blonde hair, a look of guilt lighting up his lightning blue eyes as they darted from the light under the door that had been turned on, and then back to the girl, kneeling in front of him. "Hide!"

The girl with short, red hair tucked the book into the inside of her jacket and began to search for suitable place to hide. The space that surrounded the two children was rather small and crammed with old, dusty history books, and soon the lock to the door would be broken and they would be found and punished.

"Zero" whispered the girl, "This way!" The girl lead the boy, Zero, toward an empty crate that had once held a large amount of old books, implying that they were to hide inside it.

"Rosie, you can't be serious!" whispered Zero, "Papa told me not to dirty my clothes! I'll get a beating for this!" Rosie, the girl, chuckled at this, her crystal blue eyes then darting over to the door handle which was slowly turning.

There must be many locks on that door. . . Thought Rosie, turning her attention back to Zero.

"You'll get more of a beating if you get caught," said Rosie, reaching up to the crate, "Now help me up!" Zero grabbed Rosie's hips and lifted her into the air and then gently placed her into the crate. Rosie pushed herself into the back of the crate, aiming to give Zero enough room to squeeze in with her. The thought of them both together, stuck in a tiny box made her feel warm, but, without him, she wouldn't have the courage to seek the answers she so desperately yearned for.

"Quick!" said Rosie, reaching out to Zero who was struggling to get a grip on the crates. Zero grabbed a hold of the crate and managed to lift himself into it, squeezing in beside Rosie, but only barely.

It was then that the sound of the metallic click rang through their ears as the door swung open, a tall man in a black trench coat entered the room. His gaze was fixed upon a particular shelf, filled with many old books containing historical records and whatnot. The man retrieved a thick, dusty book and then left.

As they sat there, waiting in the darkness, Rosie reached into her jacket and removed the silvery book. It was this book, of all books in the world, that she had so desired. It was this, of all books, that would tell her the many secrets that she yearned for. It was this book, that would lead her to the truth about the doomsday.

"Rosie, what are you doing?" mouthed Zero as Rosie opened the little book, turning each page until she reached the page she had last read.

But in truth, only three knew the secrets of the doomsday: the Writer, the Widow, and the—

"What is wrong, Rosie?" whispered Zero as Rosie turned the page, a look of utter disappointment on her face as she realised the river of pages had come to an end. "Who was the last person?" Rosie looked up from the silvery book, gazing deeply into Zero's calm, blue eyes. No matter the situation, Rosie could always find warmth in those tender eyes.

"The pages," breathed Rosie, "They're gone!"

"Don't joke, Rosie," said Zero, his voice at a whisper, the guards, it seemed, were now on patrol, "Now is not the time."

"But Zero, I'm not pretending, I promise," said Rosie, her eyes looking deeply into his, "Look." Rosie handed the fragile book to Zero who began to read the last page anxiously. As he turned the page, he too showed a look of disappointment on his pale face. Where the pages once were, was a small tear, right at the spine, as if they had simply fallen right out of the book.

"They must have fallen out when I climbed up here," muttered Rosie, "Which means they must still be on the ground!" Her gaze fell upon Zero, once again, and she exchanged a look with him that he knew only too well would lead to her doing something reckless.

"Rosie, you can't!" hissed Zero.

"Zero, I must—I need those pages!" said Rosie, her heart set on one thing: she would get those pages at all costs, even if it did mean risking her freedom to do so. "That is the only book in the world that contains the truth. And I mean the real truth. Not that fake story the Government spat at us!" Zero locked eyes with Rosie, his hand now on her shoulder.

"I won't let you sacrifice yourself, even if it does mean finding out the truth." said Zero.

"No, Zero." said Rosie, "I want you to run—I'll distract the guards long enough for you to take the book and get yourself out alive. Don't try to save me, Zero, I can protect myself! Just promise me you will do as I say?"

"I can't let you do this!"

"But you must, Zero, it's the only way!" said Rosie, a tear trickling down her cheeks, "This cellar is heavily guarded on both sides. If we try to sneak out the back door, they will capture us both! The only way is to split up, and I'm not willing to let you die for me."

"You're insane!" said Zero, "Who said I was willing to let you die for me!"Rosie leant forward and kissed his cheek.

"Because I love you, Zero. I want you to take the book and run out the back door, Zero. I will hold off the guards..."

"No! You can't—"

"Good-bye Zero!" It was then that Rosie thumped the crate with all of her weight, sending it plummeting to the ground. The crate hit the concrete ground with a loud thud that echoed through the entire cellar.

"Hey, who's in there!" said a guard from outside the door, getting closer and closer.

Zero got up off the cold ground, his vision blurred, and a sharp pain in his head and left leg, but he could make out the blurry figure of Rosie, frantically searching for the book which had fallen out with her.

"Rosie, forget the book! We can both escape—"

"Zero, we came here for the book—the truth—and we found it. I'm not going to let this go to waste!" said Rosie.

It was then that the door swung open and many heavily-armed guards rushed into the cellar, guns pointed at Rosie and Zero. No matter how young and innocent they looked, both Zero and Rosie knew that these people would not show mercy.

Zero tried to pull Rosie away, but she shook her head, slipped him the book from behind and whispered in his ear, "Run."

For Zero, everything seemed to slow down; his vision became a blur again, he couldn't comprehend anything that was being said, and the only thing that he could hear was the sound of his heart beating. Zero looked once more at Rosie, before running—running faster than he ever thought he could, though his sprained leg slowed him down. He pushed open the back door and escaped into the bleak night, not once looking back, hoping that he would see Rosie's beautiful, blue eyes gazing back at him, and her sweet, tender smile. . .

Rosie. . .Please. . . Thought Zero, stopping to catch his breath. His left leg was now swolen and bloody, and his head ached, but he knew that he had to push on, for Rosie's sake. /

A gunshot fired from the cellar, and a weight pushed down on Zero's chest, forcing him to fall to the ground crying.

"R-Rosie!" criend Zero, his face in his hands, "No. . .Please. . .No!"

How could he cope? He was only ten, yet he had lost both his mother and best friend... Zero's head lolled sideways as he fell unconscious.