Create an Apocalyptic log 1 post at a time

A tattered, slightly burnt, bloodied notebook. The pages are still intact

To Whomever Picks Up This book:

Run. Now.

Keep the book with you, but run. Don't wait until nightfall, ever. If you must stay, don't stay in the open or underground. Stay in a tree, or something, because those... creatures, "The Offspring of Blood", "The Lurkers in the Stone", will find you.

Don't let them find you. Some, however are friendlier and will just end your life out of mercy. Quickly and painlessly, not like the others. I repeat: Run. Leave this planet. Destroy it in the heart of the Sun. Nothing good will happen otherwise.

- Captain Gabriel "Dragon Slayer" Harkon

edited 27th Apr '13 10:35:27 PM by OmegaShadowcry

I hate raids, you never know what you'll find, what horror those... things have done, will do, next. We... I found her. Cut neck to crotch, guts spread out. *shaky breath* I could see her heart, beating... beating... Told her to close her eyes. Told her the pain would go, it'll be ok, everything will be ok. Gave her the Mercy. Nine... Nine years old... *Shaky breathe*

... She wasn't the only one. I... No, no more! [censored] them! They wanna carve us up? Like cattle? [censored] that! Next mission, I'm bringing back one of their carcases and having me a good old BBQ.

Let's see how they like it when we start eating them!

Transcription of Sargent Donovan 'Meat Eater' Micheals' audio diary, entry 3.

edited 14th Jul '13 1:05:04 PM by mgunh1

Thu 12 May 20.32.22

Unsure about sound

Unsure about noise

Probably nothing. Its probably nothing.

But something it always is. SOMETHING IT ALWAYS IS. The noise is... deepening. Can't hear it, but the noise is deepening.

Someone help. Find me. Find this.

They know. I can feel them staring at me.

Watching.

Waiting.

Laughing.

Jesus, this is worse than a Lovecraft novel. I can feel them staring into my mind, tossing around ideas in idle boredom...

MAKE IT STOP.

-Collected from the audio log of Dr. [REDACTED]-

edited 14th Jul '13 4:16:28 PM by OmegaShadowcry

(Found on a desk in an office in a large, vaguely castle-like home, free of dust.)

Journal of 'King Andreas' (Because yes, I, the writer, feel like exaggerating.)

Latest Journal entry.

Date: 8/29/XX

It's been months since I wrote in here...

Or even held a pen, really. My bow feels more fitting to my hand now. That and my sword, my shield, and my ax.

I was a medieval enthusiast before... Ah, let's just say... Before. Always wanted the quality things. Good, tough weapons, functional armor. None of that aluminum foil garbage. Talk about a payoff, right?

...Still wish it wasn't.

I set up my place as a fort, and it's still running. I was a rather wealthy man, and so I had a large, almost castle-like house and grounds. My medieval enthusiasm had me make that six foot brick fence into a fourteen foot stone wall, with a pathway around it. My gate was an actual gate, with a portcullis included. Can't recall how much it cost me. Cash is worthless now, anyway. My wife indulged me so much...

We have fourty-odd people here, and try to maintain a semblance of normalcy. The terror hasn't left us, but we're adjusting. I'm always on the walls, shooting arrows at... them, nowadays. Folks took to adding a 'Sir' in front of my name recently. Probably the armor. Some of our survivors had the good fortune to bring some seeds with them, and so we've tried to start up a farm. Those that would rather fight than work are sent to watch on the walls. One of those bastards tries to get in, we'll know, and we'll put them down.

In the meantime, my little holdout needs to scavenge around for supplies. It's a lot of work, considering the amount of people we need to feed and clothe. Everybody gets a turn doing this ...but my wife and daughter died the other day doing so. Our supplies are low, and while I'm distraught at their deaths, my friends (the three I have left with me) are supportive and help me function, continuing to keep the peace around here.

It's amusing, really. Everything I wanted to have... a kingdom (sort of)... knights (sort of)... wearing arms and armor centuries old (or inspired by such, anyway)...

Without my Queen and my Princess, it's so empty...

Date: 9/2/XX

Supplies are good for a week, at least.

Discovered method of manipulating the horrors. They seem to be intrigued by fire. Exits and re-entry are often painless.

Trying to rig spare grill into rhudimentary forge. Rebar is in great supply, and our current weapons need repair, too.

Creatures are as numerous as when first defended against, despite numerous slayings. Bases of walls surrounded by bodies of them. Are we attracting the fiends?

Lastly, I seem to have developed insomnia.

edited 20th Dec '13 12:35:59 AM by Enduring_Knight

-the sound of an audio journal cracks to life-

My name is Slim Shady.

No not that one.

The bunnies.

The bunnies are out there.

They're eating my carrots.

They already ate... Marta. They ate her like soggy vegetables. -he swallows-

They're... they're going to eat me.

Wait...

I hear them at the door...

Oh god -sounds of enlarged mandibles gnawing at the wooden door-

No. Oh god no.

-sounds of splintering wood, chattering mandibles, and scurrying paws-

AAAAAAAAHHHH OH GREAT JESUS MARY JOSEPH BUDDHA CHRIST!

-the sounds devolve into gargling, wet screams with sounds of squishing, rending flesh-

-it cuts out-

Journal of 'King Andreas.'

Date:9/8/XX

We burned the bodies that were strewn near the walls. More of them came by, of course, but the numbers seem to be dwindling. There seems to be hope that we'll get through this. It's a candlelight in this very dark period.

We've lessened the amount of water we use for the seeds. It's autumn, and spring is some time away.

While some of us were out, we found some journals and tapes. I've got some folks writing a record of their contents.

The grill-forge conversion didn't quite go as smoothly as we hoped. We recovered the gas tank, and the guy who did the converting is recovering well. Covered in burns, but he'll be fine. There is only the main grill now. We've started to construct an old-style forge, but we need more stone.

Next supply run needs to stop by a landscaping place. Rocks are in no short supply there, and with it we can patch up the walls.

Date:9/15/XX

Came across some new survivors. They were filthy, and their eyes were so feral that at first we thought they were a part of the horde. I checked them over myself, once we were back home. One was Tom, one was Ben, and one was Jerry. After I was done, I made a little joke. "Should I expect ice cream, or slapstick?"

They looked at each other before their eyes widened, and they laughed for such a long time, I thought I'd driven them mad. When they were done, however, Jerry reassured me, "Naw, we just ain't heard a damn good joke in months, man. God, I feel better." They have their own hut, now, and have used the bathing facilities in the house.

They slept for three days before getting up a few minutes before I started writing.

Well, the journals and tapes were made by a few other survivors, but they're either long gone, or consumed. I believe one of them was one... Kane Gallows?

...Where have I heard that name before?

Date:9/22/XX

Wood supply came up dry. Home Depot is close by, but if any great number of those fiends lurk inside, going in to retrieve it is tantamount to suicide. Tom suggested that we take apart the fences of our empty neighbors homes.

My people are split in their opinions, and tension is getting back up. Almost had a riot a few days ago.

Some 'King' I am. Can't even make my own people feel relaxed and safe.

I wish my family was still here.

-soft static sound as a vid log flickers to life-

-sigh-

I've lost count of the number of vids I've made. I don't even know why I'm doing this. I'm the only one left for a very long ways.

Let me see if I can recount this whole mess from the beginning...

It felt like it was going to snow that day. Jut a light snow, nothing much. Having a metal roof and nothing to do probably saved me. I looked outside once, and I saw this.... thing staring at me. It was standing on somebody's roof...

I can't even remember it's shape correctly. Frankly, I don't want to.

-light, tapping sounds-

-frantically, quietly-

Speak of the devil... I don't have much time. All that I can tell you is that they can sense blood, hate tin and bronze, and can regenerate. Acid does nothing to them — I found that out the hard way.

All I can recommend otherwise is to run. Run and don't look back.

Don't stop.

-a figure drops behind the man making the vid-

run. run. run. -fades out-

-vid fades to static-

RECOVERED FROM THE HOME OF [DATA EXPUNGED], LOCATED ON THE N. AMERICAN CONTINENT

-sound of someone farting into the sound recorder-

Oh shit, it's on. Damn it.

uh... blah blah blah we're totally boned blah blah blah we're all gonna die horribly.

Personally I don't give a fuck if one of those mutant prairie dogs bite off my other foot or not.

Let them come.

I'll be waiting. I have plenty of cheap beer to last me well over a decade. I'm ready for anything.

...

How the fuck do I turn this off?

-static-

Statement that I am a scientist that worked on research for generic monster. Said generic monster has escaped and is roaming the corridors.

Beat.

I state that I hear footsteps. I turn around. I SCREAM! I STATE THAT IT'S HERE! AAAAAAAAH

-static-

Journal of 'King Andreas'

10/6/XX

Today I had to banish the trio of Tom, Jerry, and Ben. I don't know why, but they expected to be... I dunno, heroes? Elites? They kept getting uppity, demanding privileges that I don't allow my other guests. Showers every day, too much food, etc. Shame to see them go, but at least it shows that others beyond us are surviving. Also serves as something of a reminder to the others that there are, in fact, rules here, and that for the betterment of all, they should be followed, no matter their unpleasantness at times.

Deciphered and recorded the last of the journals and audiotapes. Creepy stuff. Things are worsening out there, it seems. That Kane Gallows fellow, in particular, comes dangerously close, several times, to the edge of his sanity.

The lumber supply is back up, thanks to Tom's suggestion. All I worry about is creating a network of places for the creatures that sent us here to move about in.

10/7/XX

Tom, Ben, and Jerry tried to have some revenge today. The watchers on the walls shot and killed them before their gas tank bomb went off. We could actually use that.

10/8/XX

Well, that trio might've had the last laugh after all. The creatures, a few of them, at any rate, noticed the blood, and while we were watching, a gas tank came flying through the air, missed the watchers, and smashed the my wall.

A chunk fell, and were I not watching that night, and did I not lend my weapons to the people, there would have been a slaughter rather than the relatively minor few deaths we had. Melee weapons are highly effective if you know where to hit them, and I had a sword on me.

We burned the creature's corpses overnight and buried our fallen comrades today. But something worries me.

How did the flying gas tank explode?

They don't just blow up willy nilly. Something had to have sparked it after it was thrown.

The question horrifies me, but, could it be that the beasts are intelligent?

Captain's log... Middos of Junio ought-sexta... Seventeenth parsec cyclical caltech year thing...

This is your Captain with grave news. I... I'm afraid we've all lost. I can't think of anything encouraging to say.

They've done it.

They've finally done it.

They took the last tub of Chunky Monkey.

All is lost.

The end is nigh, my friends.

Embrace cold oblivion. I'm done now. This is your Captain... signing off.

21:09 23/12/2013

It's out there. Staring at me. That square box....X marks the spot. X marks the spot. Come on, it's fine. it's fine. I musn't run away. X marks the spot. Kazunori Yamauchi aid us in battle. Kazunori Yamauchi aid us in battle. Is that what the bible says? Lord protect me from the unholy corporation, please... X marks the spot. X marks the spot. Hahahahahahaahahaha. Hahaha Ah As SD!¬8W90W5 -REDACTED-

A woman's voice crackles in the sound recorder. She sighs in a low, airy voice.

"They’re all gone. They're coming for me. I can’t let them. I can’t let them take me. I won’t turn into them." In the background there is a light metallic clattering and brief scraping.

"I’ve spent the last seven years of my life getting this fucking medical license. What’s the use when there’s no one alive to cut on?" She pauses. Her voice seems distant, in another direction.

She speaks in a restrained, but authoritarian tone. "I will make a direct incision at the base of the right internal carotid artery and I will cut laterally around the base. Nurse, I need you to get me fifty cc’s of lidocaine- no I don’t care if- what do you mean? Don’t backtalk me nurse, you little bitch-" Her voice raises itself to an unstable, raucous roar that makes the sound recorder fizzle briefly.

"I’M THE FUCKING DOCTOR HERE!" She pauses again. Her breath heaves in and out. She hisses and puffs as if she had been sprinting.

"Fine, don’t listen to me. Nobody ever does, I’m just everyone’s bitch. I always have been." She laughs in a low voice. "For once in my life, I’m going to take control. Here’s to seven wasted years. Primum non nocere."

For a few seconds there is silence but shortly after a sharp, surprised gasp breaks it. There is a soft, liquid pattering on the floor, like milk dribbling out of a punctured container. A light metallic clanging issues out from the background. There is weak gasping and liquid patters on the floor. Within moments, a loud, weighty thud reverberates.

The audio feed cuts out with a sharp SSHCK.

EVERYTHING IS ON FIRE

LITERALLY EVERYTHING

WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE

THIS IS NOT A GOOD SITUATION TO BE IN

This... It's military-grade, right? Yeah? Uh-huh.

-Static noises-

Hey, uh... If you're hearing this, that means I'm probably dead.

-Crackling sounds can be heard over his voice-

So, um, we were out foraging for food here, on a military bunker. I think it's military, 'cuz there's guns and trucks and stuff.

The good thing is, we did find some stuff. Mostly just MREs, though we did find some peanut butter. God, I haven't eaten those stuff since my grad day!

-Crashing noises-

A-a-anyway, we also found a cache of weapons, and a truckload of incendiary stuff. Y'know, napalm and thermites and stuff. Also, the gates were closes itself. Somehow.

-Explosion-

So, uh, yeah. That's the bad thing. We, um, tried to blow the gates open. But that didn't worked out well.

-Another explosion-

...'Cuz whoever designed this goddamned place hid ammo caches in every inch of the wall! Literally! The whole fucking place is burning down!

...

So, um, we tried to put out the fires. Didn't work really well. The initial blast took out the nearest fire extinguisher. Took my legs off too. Ah, well, nothing a few painkillers can't fix.

-Explosion-

Steve's looking for a way out. It's been a couple of minutes. Leg's still bleeding. I- Oh, oh crap.

-Starts breathing heavily-

Shit... Can't hold out much longer. Hey, if you're hearing this, there's should be a cache of guns, meds, and food down a hallway, behind a steel door. Password is 0451. Should be enough for couple of months. Oh, and-

-Static-

-End of audio log-

FUCK. WHICH ONE OF YOU DUMBASSES LEFT THE CONTAINMENT DOORS TO 173 AND 682 OPEN?!

JESUS CHRIST EVERYTHING IS STILL ON FIRE

I DIDN'T THINK IT COULD GET WORSE, BUT IT DID

EVEN THE FUCKING FIRE IS ON FIRE

HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?

edited 2nd Jan '14 3:01:42 PM by eldritchseer

682 IS ON FIRE. AGAIN. WHY IS THERE FIRE?!

I TRIED POURING WATER ON THE FIRE

NOW THE WATER IS ON FIRE

THAT WAS KIND OF A PLAY ON WORDS, RIGHT

SHIT SHIT SHIT THE DRAGONS ARE OUT. EVERYBODY RUN!

The audio cracks to life.

A man begins speaking in an atonal, vacant, resonant voice that gurgles and rumbles as if fluid and running. The words fall off his tongue like thick, molten wax.

"It’s funny… I never liked my ears. I remember always getting these horrible, terrible ear infections when I was young. The pain was sharp, constant, and excruciating. I would cry throughout the night and my parents had to constantly comfort me and occasionally sedate me. I always had ear wax problems in my left ear, and my right one seems to be less able to perceive low-pitched noise. The imperfections must be purged. I will know True Reality in the intangible void of sensory negation. I will struggle, and the true nature of the universe will swim into my being. I shall perceive beyond my reaches as a man."

The man pauses and there is rummaging and small metallic objects clanging slightly.

"This shall suffice. Let me begin."

The audio pauses before the man breaks the silence with growing sounds of pain. He hollers and screams loudly and sharply, his "fluid" voice trembles and reverberates. The faintest hints of laughter are audible.

It cuts out abruptly.

"Man out of all the ways the world was predicted to end, who would have thought that some stupid b-horror movie from the fifties would have got it right?

I would think it's funny if it weren't so horrible.

Oh well, they're back again.

I don't know when or if I'll post here again.

Sayonara."

I don't know why I'm doing this. I have more important things to figure out— God. I'm lucky I could even make it. Vincent and Ritchie and Sara—and God knows who else—weren't. I saw them die. I couldn't do anything. I ran. I could still hear them scream in my head.

Some friend I am.

—

I can't remember what my home looked like. I couldn't remember my parent's names. My sister. My friends. They're all gone. This damn cottage is my home now. It's always been.

I never told Sara I loved her.

—

It's still raining outside. I haven't been able to go out for three days, now; my supplies are dwindling and the nights would be intolerable if it weren't for this jacket— I remember seeing him in it. He promised to stick together. Before the monsters got to him.

He was always a dick, anyway.

—

I heard a noise in the middle of the night. It was washed out by the rain, the thunder, the helpless cries— but it's there. I barricaded the front and back doors. I can't sleep.

The coughing. Won't stop.

—

I think I'm coming down with something. The rain's still pouring outside though it's a little milder than yesterday. The noise's still there, too.

—

GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY

—

I saw a building catch fire today. It was still raining, harder than ever, and I thought I was going crazy. I saw the city ahead of me go down in flames, a blazing inferno of heat and contradictions.

It's so cold. I wish I could join them.

edited 4th Jan '14 8:37:59 PM by syndomatic

Day Seven.

My mother is a fish.

A fishy fish.

A fishy fish that's fishy.

It's fishy business.

She spontaneously grew gills a few seconds ago and threw herself into a shallow pond.

She's still flailing around.

...

God I'm so hungry.

So hungry.

...

I think I'm having fish tacos tonight.