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A long trail of text was sighted, starting at the entrance to a tunnel:
No space left anywhere wish someone else's body would turn up so I could write on it but nobody's there they all died and rotted and I have to write on buildings and walls I haven't written on already fuck it's pointless sometime I'm going to run out of space and run out of paint and run out of life maybe at the same time since this city-journal is all I have to live for anymore must keep writing...
they friends now i one too
-written repeatedly across the doorframe of a supply closet with in the tunnel
They're so fun.
edited 16th Apr '11 10:20:11 AM by emmens
(All that can be heard are assorted animal noises - not recognizable as any familiar animal life, but rather from something not of this earth.)
edited 18th Apr '11 12:32:40 AM by SpaceJawa
This is 1st Lt. Isaah Moses USMC, 1st Div, 2nd Rgt, 1st Bn, Alpha Co.
Everything has gone so horribly wrong. I remember the first day of this Hell on Earth. They were everywhere. Back when they appeared at Twenty Nine Palms, we thought it was just a regeonal event, a Class One, as the JCS decided to start calling the event. Things started to become a real Charlie Foxtrot when they appeared in New York. After that, they appeared in San Diego, LA, Huston, Seattle, and those were just in the US alone! Pretty soon they were appearing in Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa, AND ANTARCTICA OF ALL PLACES! I was deployed in Seatte along with the rest of my Regiment, everyone that wasn't already in the Marines rished to join, to help fight these things. The only ones that were haing ANY effect were the marines stationed in the cities. We were the only ones that made hem saty down, for good. You need to Destroy their heads and throw their corpses into the ocean to make them stay dead. I started with my company, when the Captain was killed, I was the unlucky SOB in charge. We were taking extreme casualties, so I gave the order to fall back to the rally point. That was when we lost most of ours. we called in napalm to try to keep them away. When we shot them after they crossed the fire and were unharmed, we destroied their heads. When they fell back into the fire, they REGREW their heads. Now we are down to one platoon, we are in a bunker aproxamately twenty miles north of Seattle. I am recording this on a log, and broadcasting this on the radio to see if anyone out there is still alive, preferably friendly personell, I hope some Marines from Seattle survived and have a radio to hear this, we need all the help we can get.
-in background- we have unknown contact, lets go!
nee to get off now, we have some contact, let's hope to God that it's friendly and we can get to them i time. Signing off, 1st Lt. Isaiah Moses.
I can't remember their faces. God, why can't I remember their faces. I listened to my tapes, it tells me my name is Kane Gallows. That can't be true, can.....
I don't know where I am. Cottage....cottage....why does that sound important? How I lost my mind far enough that talking to a tape recorder helps.
No, no. No!
I'm hallucinating. I can see them in the shadows, hear their voices in my head, feel their hot moist breath on the back of my neck, and they invade my dreams.
Jesus Christ. It's in the air.
Heh... what's up, God? It's your boy Mikey. Remember me? Neither do I...
Ain't much time left, but Lord, I just... I wanted to, you know, repent and all that. Ain't that what I'm supposed to do? No sense screaming, no sense resisting. Just uses up oxygen. After the cave entrance collapsed... well, the rest got out. I'm a hero. Just wish I knew what to do next... well, I guess that's why I'm doing this, innit? Wait for the end to come...
Hell, where to begin? I've never done this before. Do I start with the stuff when I was three years old? Yeah, I stole cookies. I'm sorry about that. They tasted good and... well, the jar was right there.
Oh, who the hell am I kidding? I've got five, ten minutes left. God, I'm sorry for not going to church. I just... didn't want to waste Sundays like that and... not waste, but...
Eh. No, I... dammit, why is this so hard? I'm an okay guy, right? Pretty good? I'm a freaking saint. I got the whole group out of this tunnel before it collapsed, I'm the big damn hero. I should get into Heaven, right?
Guilt, though... guilt...
Okay, let's see. John... 3... 60, right? Or 16? Never mind. "God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him may have eternal life." Yeah. Eternal.
Let's try again... God, I'm sorry. I've done a lot of bad things, and I've been pretty selfish. Yeah, I know I've never really prayed before, but... well, I'm praying now, aren't I? And if you're really promising eternal life then, well...
I... I can't believe in it, God. It's... it sounds so stupid. I'm sorry. I can't believe in something so... stupid, and... fake. Hell, I'm not even sure I'm talking to anyone right now. No, no, I take it back. You have to be real. Please. Yeah, because otherwise I'm going nowhere. Nothing. I can't have come out of nowhere. I can't be nothing. You're real. I don't know who or what you are, but you're something. And you have to be a someONE, because it just doesn't make sense to have intelligence come from nowhere.
But then where did you come from? Dammit, this whole thing is like a high-school philosophy course. Heh. Here I am, buried alive in a godforsaken tunnel during the end of the world and I'm thinking about fairy tales. Well, I called them that anyway. I didn't really mean it. You know that, right, God?
Besides, I have to know. I can't just die alone. I can't become nothing. I... I don't wanna go. Please. You have to be real. I done a lot of bad things, and I'm sorry, but I tried the best I could and... and I'm so scared, God. Please tell me this isn't the end. I want to believe, God, I'm just so damn cynical...
Bunch of chemicals and electrical pulses, yeah?
That's bullcrap. I'm a person. I'm ME. Chemicals can't know what it's like to be me. I'm... I can't even describe it... I'm conscious. I'm ALIVE. I exist... there's a single person called me, who's experiencing this and having a very bad day at the moment. And that someone had to come from... somewhere. Someone.
Does that mean you exist, God? Or am I just rationalizing my way out of this? No, no, focus... God, I don't know who or what you are. But I know you exist. You've got to. Take me back, God, I don't want to disappear forever. I don't want to disappear forever. Don't leave me. Please, God, don't leave me... I don't want to disappear forever...
edited 10th May '11 2:59:41 PM by mezimm
Jim...They got Jim. I saw them dragging him away. They were gonna turn him into one of them.
THIS MESSAGE WAS FOUND ON THE WALL OF A HOUSE ON 579 MAPLE STREET. IT WAS WRITTEN IN BLOOD. A STRUGGLE APPARENTLY TOOK PLACE HERE, BASED ON THE BROKEN DOWN DOOR, CLAW MARKS, AND BLOOD STREAKS ON THE WALLS. THE BODY OF THE HOUSE'S INHABITANT HAS NOT BEEN FOUND. WHAT FOLLOWS IS HIS FINAL, GRIM MESSAGE.
- - - - - - -
I saw Paul last night. He was dead. There's nowhere I can hide. Little by little, they're winning. Step by step. Inch by inch. Eventually, Mankind will only be a memory. Then, nothing. And they'll get in. Alan...Rex...James...guys I used to hang out with at the Superbowl, or had parties with. But not before everybody knows what happened here. Not before Humanity realizes it's greatest mistake.
I am Jason Torezze, and my last request is that someone finds this message and tells my son. May God have mercy on our souls.
edited 11th May '11 1:03:41 PM by Abracadavre
So that the injustices here committed would not be lost to the ravages of time and propaganda, and that I might maintain some fleeting hope that my work here possesses some modicum of purpose, I have determined to record the events following the fall of my temple, and my imprisonment by these heretics. Though time is difficult to track within my cell, I believe it has been but a scarce three days since the fall of our temple and the murder of my brothers. They fought bravely, all of them. And all were killed. But I have spent enough time mourning. I have heard my captors speak of “redeeming me” of “cleansing the darkness in my soul.” Fools. I have ever been pure in my service to the prophet.
I know what the false clerics meant when they spoke of cleansing. I was taken from my cell in the middle of the night. Those fool guards actually deigned to touch me! They brought me to the room of one of their inquisitors. He did things to me, with his hands, though I could sense what was behind them. I can’t find the words to explain it.
They took me again. To him. Did the… things. Oh god, why do you not answer my prayers?
Took me last night. Brought me to him. Said they were getting close to fixing me. I didn’t know I was broken.
He loves me! This I know,
For the good book tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong;
They are weak, but He is strong.
Yes, He loves me!
Yes, He loves me!
(Found scratched into the wall of a completely empty, and creepily spotless room)
Day |||| |||| |||| |||
If anyone finds this, know that I didn't go down weeping or crying. I went down fighting. Those bastards will pay for what they did to Brad, Tony, Steve, Becky, Jenny, and all the others. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you, Jen.
Does she know that I loved her?
I can hear them it, whatever clawing at the door. It's only a matter of time before it comes in. That's ok. I got plenty of ammo here and plenty of guns, too. I'll make them regret the day the took her away from me.
Here they come. Come and get it.
edited 7th Jun '11 9:52:43 AM by KarlKadaver
-Automated report found in a nearby military base's computer-
Day 19 of experiment. No results logged. No life signatures found in lab. The emergency containment system is malfunctioning. No engineers responded to the repair signal.
edited 9th Jun '11 10:24:58 PM by dmboogie
Is it my imagination, Or does each entry seem completely unrelated to the others now? I think it may be an idea to start over
Day 1: I was tracked by them. Who is Them do you ask? Any one of those men in black... They're coming for us, I say. While this pen runs out of ink, I may substitute by using another liquid... Ah. Here it is (there are red traces) They... (the rest of the journal entry is torn out and the bit is scrawled) They're coming...
This is Kane Gallows again. I can't believe I thought that would work. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what stories I made up in my head thecreaturesalwaysworkedtheirwayin! Icantbefreeofthem. My name is Kane Gallows. Gallows. Gallows. Where criminals go to hang. Hanging- seems like a viable option now.
FOUND SPRAYPAINTED ON A CHURCH DOOR:
GOD IS DEAD GOD IS DEAD GOD IS DEAD GOD IS DEAD GOD IS DEAD GOD IS DEAAD GODD ISS DEEAAD GGOODD IISS DDEEAADD GOAD ISS DEAEAD GOISDOEASD (the rest is illegible)
I found a girl's body lying in the alley. Her face had, it was torn to shreds. She had scratches all over body. Both her eyes were missing. Her nose was no longer there. Her lips were torn off, making it seem as if she were smiling. No, baring teeth seems like a more proper word.
In her tiny hand, one was missing, was a piece of paper. I pried it out of her hand. There was a message written in a green colored crayon.
-Where are you mommy? i miss you. pleese com bak. the monstersheer plese com bak. dont let them take me moommy.monstersheremonstermonstermonsert
(from a journal titled Kane Gallows)
It all went by so fast. The audio diaries, carving the entries onto the walls, and in corpses...
I feel better. I don't feel as distressed, or insane. I'm in a bomb shelter in the middle of the city. The owner was kind enough to let me in, and I owe him my life.
He just shouted at me: "Damn right you do." in a joking way.
Having someone to talk to is helping my sanity immensely... but nothing will be the same. I can still hear their screeching. They seem to be getting impatient and fighting eachother. I keep finding scraps of flesh everywhere in the streets... when I'm not fighting for my life.
I need a goal to work toward...
I need to find a female.
Well, three months in this hole in the ground and I still haven't gotten anywhere with the women in this shelter. Sexual frustration aside, the condition of the shelter itself is steadily getting worse. Food supplies are starting to run low, and the people are getting irritable, I can only assume the other men here are sharing my woes with the women, because we've already had several molestation problems around the shelter.
I'm.....I'm not sure if this place is going to last much longer. I should start planning an escape route soon...
-End of Entry 2-
(Found on the desk in a house is a ripped up journal with several entries of pages still indie the book.)
Entry 1: Christmas was fantastic! I got so many writin books from family I didn't know which one to use, my sister got a drawing pad with pencils to boot! she's drawing now-
I and a few survivors got out of the shelter after the riot last night. Oh, I'm going to be sick. I can still see their eyes rolling back in their heads after I put the axe into their heads. I'm sorry for not writing sooner, but....
It is getting dark. The things will be out soon. They'll be feeding. We are the food. We are the food.
It's been five years since the last wall breach... and they've done it again. These aliens have destroyed Wall Florus's first gate, and they're getting into the city. Most of my friends were eaten in the attack. I need to find a person to have sex with so I don't die a virgin.
End of Entry 1
I don't suspect I will write anymore, seeing as my hands... already, I see the bone.
Please, if you read this, warn everyone, leave this place
I don't know how I can put this into words... It's... I... It's something I can't. The rest of the city is only just abandoned buildings, skyscrapers once reaching to it's destination, now rubble of recent times. The people... dear god... they were innocent people, people who had lives and jobs, families. Now they're like this... going insane, killing each other. And for what? For survival!? ( Deep breathing could be heard, along with some soft sobbing.) My family and I have to endure this every day, and even my brother... he can't comprehend what's happening, he just can't. If things turn out for the better, please send me a small tape as well. Just as long as you find this one.
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