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[WIP] Call of the Ghoul


Guest Hazzers

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Guest Hazzers

Falling... Shifting...

*The following text is untidily scrawled onto various damp and dirt-covered sheets of paper. The entries have endured some clear damage and each torn paragraph seems to be from a separate entry. It's a complete mess, but sense can be made from the words.*

Entry 1:

It's almost funny, really... Even though society collapsed I can't find even the slightest fuck to give. My mind is still locked on Sarah and James. The outbreak doesn't concern me, but rather gives solace. It's peaceful. Natural. As I write this I sit by a thick log, moss crawling up its underside and peeking over its top. For some reason I never noticed these little details before, these small nuances that make the environment beautiful. It's as if the absence of humanity opened my eyes and showed me the truth.

Nature doesn't care. It continues on. Despite the violence, the murdering, the torture and suffering... Birds sing. Elk thrive in the forests. Seagulls caw and blissfully circle the shoreline, and plants retake territory. Our species is an insignificant speck dirtying an infinite universe; Hell, we're more of a blight than anything.

Too much time on your hands and you get philosophical... You know what? Sarah would have liked camping here. Ha, there I go again, bringing her up... I can't help it. Her memory is what prevents me from painting this log with my brain matter.

You see... We used to mess about with slingshots out in the woods. We'd shoot each other with little rocks and occasionally cause a bruise or two, but we didn't care. We were soldiers, or cops and robbers, or cowboys and Indians. Our parents were furious but hearing her laughter and watching her smile kept me going. Man, that's true to this day. I live in her memory. I see every intricacy of her face... Her big nose and her glowing hazel eyes... I see the little boy we made: I see James.

I lay back in the leaves and I look to the stars. My eyes scan the constellations and I search for a sign... Any sign... A sign that they might be watching....

But I never find one.

I can't get their faces out of my fucking head. I'd wish for death but the truth is I'm already wandering in the balance, stuck between Earth and the afterlife. I tell myself I did the right thing... I tell myself that every five minutes. If I stop reminding myself then I might lose what little grip on reality I still have.

They attacked me. They attacked me. It was self-defense. They killed Sarah... They killed James... They tore apart everything I knew and loved and they broke me in half. I haven't laughed in months. I don't think I'll ever laugh again. My mind is scrambled to the point that I'm indifferent to the walking corpses that plague this shithole of a country - At least they can't and don't manipulate people.

*The following ink is smeared and harder to make out*

All I want is to hear my little boy's stupid laugh again.

Is that too much to fucking ask?

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