Day 15

Day 15

A Story by Saichiro Wolftotem
"

Even 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. SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO COME BACK!!! Now it's just me. Only me on my romantic birthday getaway. Some vacation. I've got to keep it together. I can't stay in this stupid workshop forever. I've started devising a plan (drawing really, in the back of the notebook here) and I don't know if it will work, but it's better than dying slowly I suppose. A man can only eat cold canned greenbeans for so long.

 

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 Wolftotem


Author's Note

Saichiro Wolftotem
Tell me what you think, what you REALLY think.

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Reviews

Wow, I really didn't see that coming! Great Writing!

Posted 6 Years Ago


Saichiro Wolftotem

6 Years Ago

Thank you!
I really liked this. I was almost halfway through it and thought "I'd know how I'd end this." It had something to do with it being him and not them. :)
The Birthday prank was great. It kept me in it from beginning to end.

The only thing I was unsure about was "especially after what happened to Skittles."
What happened to Skittles? You only mentioned that he had been left alone with the corgi, Skittles earlier. Seems a good opportunity to reinforce the scenario in his mind and give us a little information. Otherwise, a bit of a dangling remark that kinda goes nowhere.



Posted 6 Years Ago


Saichiro Wolftotem

6 Years Ago

I DID forget that tidbit didn't I? Well, I meant to include it. Fixin's comin' right up.
Rogue

6 Years Ago

Very nice!
I only mentioned Skittles because that line sent me back twice originally to carefu.. read more

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Added on January 8, 2013
Last Updated on January 30, 2013
Tags: journal, shed, survival, newspaper, zombie, prank

Author

Saichiro Wolftotem
Saichiro Wolftotem

San Antonio, TX



About
I'm a craftster and generally chronically bored person. I like entertainment of the non-screen-based variety. more..

Writing