Journal of a Survivor
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
5,926
Reviews:
58
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
27
Views:
5,926
Reviews:
58
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
January 17th
January 17th, 2012
I must be going crazy because I can’t get out of this place anymore. No windows, those have been blocked up so they can’t get inside. The only way to the roof is via an outside ladder which isn’t any help to me at all. But I hear things at night, more than the normal “zombie groaning” I hear all the time. I hear whispers of voices, almost like trapped words inside smooth, polished walls (how poetic) and I know that I am alone in this building. I have been for many months. I thought maybe it was the radio, but I turn that off at night so I don’t imagine I hear things in the static. My over active, nearly eighteen year old, imagination tells me I’m hearing the ghosts of those who have died. My more morbid side of imagination says the zombies are learning how to speak and they want to lure me outside to a gruesome death. I don’t want to let myself keep thinking like that.
Why has no one invented a battery powered cooking element? One can only eat so much canned ham!
.
.
.
.
.
“Nasty food…I hate canned food…” Raen muttered to himself, jamming a plastic spoon into a can of what looked to be tuna. It wasn’t the best food in the world, but it was quick and easy, and didn’t involve him trying to use a candle to heat up the food. While candles would also provide him with much needed heat, Raen knew that food was more important at the current moment. Talking to himself was becoming more common, and while Raen regretted his actions, he knew that it wasn’t honestly harming anyone when he did it. Not that there was anyone else around him, of course. There was always the chance of someone coming and finding him, or him discovering someone else, and if and when that time came, Raen wasn’t going to be perceived as being insane.
.
.
.
.
.
There’s something about being alone that truly makes a person feel as though they are going insane. I really don’t know how much more of this I can take, even though I have a feeling that this is going to last a very long time. Flesh eating dead people who rose up to start slaughtering people have to be a sign of the impending doom of the world, right? My body is so very tired, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get a decent nights rest. I don’t know if it’s the voices I keep hearing, or think I keep hearing, or maybe even the groaning from the monsters outside. I suppose I could blame it on the disgusting weather here, and the fact that I can’t keep myself warm to save my life. Well, to save my life yes, but nothing under that!
I just want to sleep and be at peace. I want this stupid apocalypse to be over.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Irrlich: There was a lot more posted, but as I said, I’m doing some re-vamping of the fic and I deleted the already posted chapters in an effort to minimize the shock to my readers. Thanks for the review!
I must be going crazy because I can’t get out of this place anymore. No windows, those have been blocked up so they can’t get inside. The only way to the roof is via an outside ladder which isn’t any help to me at all. But I hear things at night, more than the normal “zombie groaning” I hear all the time. I hear whispers of voices, almost like trapped words inside smooth, polished walls (how poetic) and I know that I am alone in this building. I have been for many months. I thought maybe it was the radio, but I turn that off at night so I don’t imagine I hear things in the static. My over active, nearly eighteen year old, imagination tells me I’m hearing the ghosts of those who have died. My more morbid side of imagination says the zombies are learning how to speak and they want to lure me outside to a gruesome death. I don’t want to let myself keep thinking like that.
Why has no one invented a battery powered cooking element? One can only eat so much canned ham!
.
.
.
.
.
“Nasty food…I hate canned food…” Raen muttered to himself, jamming a plastic spoon into a can of what looked to be tuna. It wasn’t the best food in the world, but it was quick and easy, and didn’t involve him trying to use a candle to heat up the food. While candles would also provide him with much needed heat, Raen knew that food was more important at the current moment. Talking to himself was becoming more common, and while Raen regretted his actions, he knew that it wasn’t honestly harming anyone when he did it. Not that there was anyone else around him, of course. There was always the chance of someone coming and finding him, or him discovering someone else, and if and when that time came, Raen wasn’t going to be perceived as being insane.
.
.
.
.
.
There’s something about being alone that truly makes a person feel as though they are going insane. I really don’t know how much more of this I can take, even though I have a feeling that this is going to last a very long time. Flesh eating dead people who rose up to start slaughtering people have to be a sign of the impending doom of the world, right? My body is so very tired, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get a decent nights rest. I don’t know if it’s the voices I keep hearing, or think I keep hearing, or maybe even the groaning from the monsters outside. I suppose I could blame it on the disgusting weather here, and the fact that I can’t keep myself warm to save my life. Well, to save my life yes, but nothing under that!
I just want to sleep and be at peace. I want this stupid apocalypse to be over.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Irrlich: There was a lot more posted, but as I said, I’m doing some re-vamping of the fic and I deleted the already posted chapters in an effort to minimize the shock to my readers. Thanks for the review!