• <entry start>
    The end is nigh, proclaimed a skeleton in a sandwich board.
    gee, i had no idea.
    for 3 years i have been fighting through these wastes. survival seems like the only thing that matters anymore...the constant struggle fo rfood and shelter, and whats worse, the people that i struggled against coudl have been neighbors, friends, family. we had all been distorted by the chaos. How could we stay the same happy go lucky groups when all we had known was lost.
    I still have nightmares about losing them all. the fire, the death. the fire of napalm still burned in our nostrils. they had literally come from nowhere, the stalkers. it was slow at first, a sighting here, a sighting there....but it grew uncontrollably. these beasts, these monsters.....they seemed like a joke. surely nothing like this happens in real life. i remember how they looked. distorted parodies of humanity. chitinous almost, their claws malicious and deadly with gaping maws that devoured the very soul as they took the lives of their victims.
    They tore the doors down. i was sleeping in the living room, and they dragged my entire family away. i watched them torn apart in the streets by these hulking abominations. they searched for me then. i barely managed to hide in the family gun safe before they returned. i lost all sense of time then. what could have been minutes stood just as good a chance of being an hour. when i felt it was safe, i crawled from the safe. they were long gone, the semi-devoured remains on display for all to see.the clock read 12 o clock. i had trapped for 2 and a half days. no wonder i was starving. i turned back to the safe. only one weapon: a dull knife that stood no chance against the calamities. likewise, the pantry was no help, the only food half a loaf of rotting bread. i ate it anyway.
    then i left. i ran from that place full of carnage and despair. the rest of the city was in a similar state of dissaray, overturned cars and charred remains in the street as if this city were a warzone. i found a newspaper, the headline boldly declaring that all hope was lost and that humanity was at an end. i read the article. marshal law had been declared the very morning i hid in the safe. reports of the nameless behemoths stalking the streets, hunting human beings as if they were animals. i threw the paper. i didnt want to read about this, it would only drag me down, and i felt that i needed to move quickly.
    i began keeping this journal as a tribute to a fallen friend. she wanted me to keep searching, though she knew she would die long before we would do any good. this is the story not of a hero, or a villain, or an innocent bystander, but rather, it is one of a survivor.im not perfect. ive done things most would consider to be heinous, and ive done things soem would consider saintly. take your pick. irregardless, from now on out, i am cataloging this quest for survivors. from now on, i am writing my story so that one day, someone might remember that we existed; so that one day, someone may understand the scope of this disaster.
    <entry terminate>