It was the night of the 22nd, the night they said they would come. If what they said was true, then, indeed, this was the last night of our lives.

Here I was, standing in the rooftop garden of the Aero Residences skyscraper. The balls of multi-colored lights hanging from the tall, artificial trees, and the still, unmoving water of the large pond in the middle of the garden, capturing the tranquility of the moonlight, gave a serene and heavenly feel to my surroundings.

There were the animals, too, their large eyes gazing at the full moon hanging in the cloudless, star-spotted sky. A beautiful song played in the garden, and the angelic voices of a choir echoed faintly, lifting my spirits, but only for a brief moment.

A gentle tug on my sleeve made me look down, at the little girl holding tightly onto my shirt. Her wide, innocent eyes stared back at me, and I had the great urge to hold her, hug her and never let go.

“Why is everyone so sad, Daddy?” she asked, in a curious, high-pitched voice, pointing with a small finger at the dark, shadowy streets far below.

Today was the 10th anniversary of our Independence Day. It was supposed to be the day the world put aside its petty differences to celebrate as one people.

But this year, it was different. The streets were devoid of people. There was no music, no partying, no dancers, and no carnival. The celebrations would never start, because there was nothing to celebrate this year.

“They are sad, because the bad toys are coming,” I smiled sadly at her.

“But, little Betty isn’t bad!” my little girl protested, clutching her small, robot doll tightly.

“Not little Betty- but the bigger toys…” I explained, but received a glare from her.

I gave up trying. She was too young, too innocent to grasp the meaning of the situation.

The storm was coming. The clouds of doom have started to gather over our great city.

I bent down, reaching for the fresh, green grass on the ground. I ran a hand over the blades of grass, savoring the touch of the cool dew beneath my fingers.

The flowers, too, were so beautiful, and pure, like the heart and mind of my young daughter. What a tragedy, then, that she would never have the chance to grow up and experience the wonders of our world for herself.

I plucked a flower- a yellow one- and held it out for her. Grinning with child-like fascination and curiosity, she eagerly took it by the stalk from my hand.

“I wish I could spend everyday with you here, Daddy,” she whispered, hugging me. I returned her affection, holding her tightly.

I felt my tears flow in little trickles down my face. The emotions were too difficult to control. So, I let myself cry, releasing all the pent-up emotions within me, and allowed myself to live for the moment.

The seconds ticked by, as the clock counted to our doom. We sat there for hours, just my daughter and I, surrounded by curious animals and the serenity of the garden, comforted by the warmth of each other’s bodies.

A tiny hand came up, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I looked up at the sky, feeling so insignificant as I watched the thousands of visible stars twinkle.

“Daddy, look! Shooting stars! Make a wish, quick!” she exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the dozens of tiny, orange lights descending from the night sky.

I nodded, and forced a weak smile. They had come, as they said they would. A wave of dread washed through my body, and I felt sick.

Fear choked my mind, assailed my senses, and forced my sanity to succumb to it. I fought it, and tried to control it.

I drew my daughter closer to my body.

The pinpoints of light grew in intensity, as they continued their inevitable descent.

“Go to sleep, my dear,” I whispered in her ear, gently caressing her soft face. I didn’t want her to see how this would end.

“Sleep now,” I said, humming a childhood song as I cradled her little head in my arms.

Her eyelids began to close, her breathing becoming a slow, steady rhythm.

The lights in the sky were so large now that I could see the deformed shapes within them, growing ever more distinct. I saw ships of immense proportions, saw their black, metal hulls reflecting the lights of the city below, saw their massive guns shifting into position, poised to fire.

Then, the rain fell; rain not of water, but of fire. The sky lit up, and thunder cracked.

The firing of the guns sent car-sized balls of flame speeding towards the ground.

I brought a hand to my face, covering my mouth as I choked back a silent cry. My daughter was asleep, so peaceful in her slumber. I covered her ears, so that she would not be awakened to witness the horror unfolding all around us.

Bursts of artillery fire from the city sent white beams of light lancing into the sky, cutting into the near-impenetrable hulls of the mechanical beasts hovering above.

I watched, as the city burned all around me. Skyscrapers crumbled to dust and flags- symbols of our independence- went up in flames.

The machines have come back for us. We defeated them a decade ago, bringing freedom to our people- freedom from oppression by the artificial intelligences that we created.

But now, they have returned to finish what they had started. Tonight, it would all end swiftly. There would be no mercy from the cold, calculating minds of our machine offspring. Like a rebellious son against his strict father, they would ensure the utter annihilation of the human species.

I lowered my head, and planted my last kiss on my daughter’s cheek. An instant later, a wave of searing heat engulfed me, and I knew the sadness and fear no longer.

need review pls so i can improve on my future writing.

That was so sad, but very good It bought tears to my eyes...

ty very much

It was indeed sad. Your discriptions were very real.