Day 15A Story by Saichiro WolftotemEven sleep doesn't bring rest anymore. I can't even stomach my rations, which is all the better as I'm running out. The end is near, I can feel it.Day #3 I guess you'd say I'm writing this to keep my sanity. Lord only knows there isn't anything else to do in this godsforsaken shack. What should I talk about? The 'outbreak' as they said in the news? I don't even want to think about that s**t anymore. It's cold. Let's speak of that. Cold. And my socks have holes in them. Here's an inventory of my 'survival' supplies a.k.a. the things I barely got into my tool shed before I had to lock the door:
1 very thin child's sleeping bag, pretty pretty princess pink 1 lawnmower, useless 1 spiral notebook with carpenter's pencil, thank god 4 bags of chips 14 various cans of food, barely palatable 1 space heater, ironically broken (I had meant to get around to fixing it) clothing I have on, boots and jacket included various tools I can't use either and other junk I already had in my shed
I was so happy two days ago when I found the space heater too. Finally, I had time to fix it. Too bad it needs a part. It's not like I could really use it even if it DID work, not with what's going on outside. So I'll just huddle here I guess. Starve slowly. Shiver myself to death and the like. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and the army will put things to rights. Yeah, like that's possible... I'm done for now. I'm just making myself depressed and hopeless. If you need me I'll be busy doodling my doom in the back of this spiral.
Day #7? (maybe 8) There was banging outside the shed yesterday. I almost crapped a brick. I think they're looking for me, but I've made sure not to make any noise. It occured to me yesterday that the garage style door at the end of my tiny shelter doesn't have a lock or bolt or anything. That means the only thing between me and certain death (or whatever it is that happens to them) is thin sheet metal and my terrified hope that they don't hear me in here. It's probably my wife. I've been trying like hell not to think of her or Morgan. What happened to them, if anything. If I break down they'll hear me for certain, but I think it's time to face the music: I don't think my wife or daughter will have survived this long. I was here alone when everything went to hell. Julie had taken Morgan to her mother's that weekend and she left me at the house with our corgi, Skittles. Poor Skittles. It was the dog's distraction that let me get away. With all the barking and confusion I was able to get my hands on just a couple things and get to the shed. I can't imagine what they may have done with my dog. In either case, my wife was going to come back.
Day 10 I think Even sleep doesn't bring rest anymore. I can't even stomach my rations, which is all the better as I'm running out. One can of pinto beans and a half a bag of doritos. I now know that it's my wife outside. They must have gotten to her on her way back. I don't know how much longer I can keep my head. She's been calling for me with her beautiful voice. I love to hear her sing. Well, used to I guess. They got her, goddammit! I don't know how they work, if they're viral or demonic or what. The man on the news said that religious groups were considering this the end of times. Yeah, the end is really f*****g nigh, I can feel it. My wife... I can hear her now, she's calling my name. Trying to get me to come out so whatever she is now can turn me into one of them. I can't believe it has come to this. I'm going to wait for night and then I'll try to get out of here. I've got to stop into the house for more supplies at the very least. If I don't I CERTAINLY won't make it past the week.
Day 14 (I'm sure this time.) I was able to make it out and into the house for supplies. Apparently these things have to sleep too, but it looks like they don't quite know how. I found my 'wife' sleeping on the floor in our room. I know I shouldn't have looked, especially after what happened to Skittles, but I couldn't help myself. It's that kind of thing that will probably get me killed. I couldn't see very well and didn't want to go in. I don't know if they will wake up because of sound and I CERTAINLY didn't want to find out. I'm back in the shed again, but I have a big quality comforter now and plenty of food. I could probably stay here for another week or two, but I can't stand the thought of my wife being like this. I decided yesterday that if it was anyone's responsibility to make sure she doesn't harm anyone else, it's mine. There is an aluminum bat in here from when Morgan used to play softball. I think that will do the trick with the least amount of...grief.
Tragedy Strikes After Prank Gone Wrong By: Claude Santos, Staff Writer
SPRINGFIELD, MO - After a city- wide search that started Thursday, January 6th, engineer and loyal husband Tony Huebner resurfaced amidst many questions more than two weeks after his disappearance. Police say that they discovered Huebner in a room with his deceased wife after an anonymous phone tip led them to his home. Huebner, who appears to have suffered psychological effects, was the victim of what was to be a harmless birthday prank involving the ever increasing pop culture phenomenon surrounding "zombies" or the "undead". According to a friend who chooses to remain anonymous, Huebner's friends and family had hired actors to stage a mock invasion a day after playing a fake news broadcast regarding a fictitious "outbreak". Plans seem to have gone awry when instead of converging on the site of a planned birthday party, all participants completely lost track of Huebner. "Emily (Huebner) was so torn up. She looked all over the city for him, calling his phone and even yelling in their yard for him to come home." Details surrounding the demise of Mrs. Huebner are still under investigation and a memorial service is planned for Wednesday. Their daughter, Morgan, is being cared for by family. © 2013 Saichiro WolftotemAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorSaichiro WolftotemSan Antonio, TXAboutI'm a craftster and generally chronically bored person. I like entertainment of the non-screen-based variety. more..Writing
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