[ WP ] Pokémon are no longer the fun and loving creatures you `` train '' with . They are now hunting humans and eating them alive . Tell us the stories of your great survival or the story of your untimely death .

35,000 were killed on the first day. 
 
 We do n't know why Pokémon suddenly became vicious. It could have been a genetic thing, or an environmental thing, but we do n't know why it happened. They just decided to destroy. 
 
 Windows were broken, cars were thrown, fire was spat into forests. I remember seeing a Flygon picking up an 18-wheeler and hurling it into a gas station. 
 
 I only survived because I rushed into a subway metro. It's illegal to bring pet Pokémon into public transportation, and combined with being underground, it was safe. The only mishap was that a woman snuck a pet Eevee into her handbag. She died before she could make it on the train. 
 
 The automated subway kept chugging, driving its way through the tunnel. Our phones were dead. We did n't understand why; at least, not until we realized what was happening. Soon, the train was fried; it stopped moving. 
 
 When it slowed down, everyone hopped off the train. We hobbled through the tunnel, hoping any dark type Pokémon would ambush us. 
 
 It never happened, thank God, but sometimes, I wish it did. 
 
 When we made it to the next metro station, it was completely deserted. Nothing. The entrance was open, and we stepped outside into the obliterated world above. 
 
 Buildings were on fire. Craters plagued the roads. Bodies littered the streets. 
 
 It was hard to breathe, what with there being smoke in the breeze. There were puddles everywhere; presumably from water-type Pokémon. I saw vines grow on a car. How those grew so fast had an obvious answer. 
 
 The attacking Pokémon must have chased after their fleeing trainers. Jesus, I could already imagine a highway cluttered with traffic, horrific monstrosities chasing down the people inside the vehicles. 
 
 I thank God every day that there were n't any around. Not for my sake, but for everyone else's. 
 
 As we walked through the dilapidated streets, I saw a kid crying on a doorstep. He looked to be around 10 years old. The hat he wore on his ragged head looked like it was struck by lightning. What scared me the most, though, was the way he was singing. 
 
 `` I want to be the very best...'' 
 

