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The lost Notebook of John Ruby

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Posted (edited)

If you ever find yourself in Sinistok, look around the village and its surrounding area, you might find some old ripped pages lying around.

The pages belong to John’s old notebook in which he used to write while was situated in Sinistok before the outbreak.

They contain writings of John’s earlier life and some from his time at Sinsitok. They are NOT in chronological order.

Some pages are in a better shape than others as time, weather conditions and other survivors were not kind to them. If you are lucky enough you might find the notebook itself.




Edited by BigBadWolf

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Posted (edited)

As your approach the local water pump in Sinistok you notice a ripped page next it.

First few lines are unreadable due to water smudges, probably from someone using the pump and leaving the water running.


…night-time when we landed. All the passengers including me were greeted by a couple of CDF (Chernarussian Defense Force) officers who immediately took us for government clearance and paperwork check. Regular protocol I supposed. Got my passport stamped and was escorted to what I assume was the arrivals area and was instructed I am free to go. My contact was a man by the name of Pavel. That is what the letter said. I saw him right away. How did I know it was him? Small bold man with thick mustache and black thick eyeglasses holding a handwritten sign up that spelled “АМЕРИКАН”

I approached and said “Pavel?” He replied “John?”

He offered to help with my bag, I was politely going to decline but he grabbed it and started walking towards the exit not giving me a chance to do so. “We go now” he said. There was a strong tobacco aroma following him which gave me hope that he is a smoker and I might possibly borrow a cigarette down the road. We got into his red rusted truck and were on our way.

After about 15 min of silence I asked “Where are we going Pavel?”

“Sinistok” he replied with a thick accent, “but first we go in Novaya Petrovka.”

“Oh?” I said.

“We go get Mihail” he quickly continued, “he my cousin and we go get…” he paused for a second and then mumbled something in his language, “can’t think word…” he said while mumbling some more. A few more seconds passed and then he yelled “BOXES!” He scared the Holy Lord out of me. “Boxes…good word” he said looking at me with a smile. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about so I decided to wait and find out when we reach our destination. I looked down and saw a cigarette pack in his shirt pocket. I really wanted one but it was too soon to ask. Pavel didn’t show any interest in talking much so I continued to look at the dark countryside for the rest of our trip trying not to doze off.

Writing ends here.


Edited by BigBadWolf

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Posted (edited)

As you are slowly walking on the road towards Sinistok something catches your attention.

You look to your right and see page stuck in the tall grass. You quickly grab it as the wind was about to blow it away.

There is writing on both sides of the page and the right bottom corner is ripped for unknown reason, therefore some of the writing is missing.


Marry was beautiful, kind and a great mother above everything else. She was a significant influence while I was growing up. My father had a strong grip when it came to molding me into a man I was meant to be so I looked up more to my mother as her approach was much gentler.  The striking beauty of her spirit won my father many years ago. His faith and knowledge of God’s word spill over into her heart really quickly. He was a different man back then. At least that’s what I was told.

I don’t know much ab out my mother’s childhood, she barely spoke of it. I know that her family suffered from some kind of illness. Marry grew up pretty much alone until she met my father in 1985. She did tell me a lot about that age of her life. The best years she would claim. They wrote letters to each other and fell in love really fast. Just a year later they were married and I was born in September.

We lived on a little farm in Freeport, Illinois. My father put me to work at a young age alongside my mother. There was a lot of labor to be done and she gladly followed every request from her strong minded husband. Every Sunday, after church, she would gather the women of Freeport and they would read the bible for hours. That was her favorite thing to do. She was young and full of life, until one particular day. It was summer of 1996, Saturday I believe, when my mother felt ill on the field...
out of nowhere she felt dizzy and blood started running out of her n…
I quickly cough the attention of my father and…
running as quickly as he could…
holding her hand…
fell and…

Writing continues on the other side.

My father was never been the same after her passing. For the next seven years until his death my back and his belt had a weekly session. But I will not go into that today. Honestly I don’t want to. Maybe next week, maybe next month. It’s getting pretty late anyway and I have to wake up early tomorrow.  Mihail is taking me and the others to a town south from here, Vavilovo I think is the name. There are talks of building a small church there. One thing is for sure, people here need it.

Writing ends here.


Edited by BigBadWolf

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Posted (edited)

If you decide to go southeast after leaving Sinistok, through the little forest area, you will come upon a helicopter crash.

As you search for supplies you notice a page stuck in one of the windshields.

Surprisingly it stood the test of time and is in a very readable condition.

With its now old road framed by tall grass, old houses and somewhat decent farms, the tiny farming town of Sinistok was once a veritable agricultural place. Not anymore. The civil war has done its permanent damage. The town never really recovered. Minimal livestock, collapsed roofs and untamed forest around the fields are an obvious proof of this. With natural population growth of the bigger cities in Chernarus, towns like Sinistok are slowly disappearing from the country’s map. But more than anything the people who resided here are crushed and without faith. “We have not had a wedding for a long time, we mostly have funerals here,” Mihail would often say. His English was a lot better than Pavel’s which made communication a lot easier for me.

Today marks a week since my arrival. We reached the town a day later then planed because we needed to pick up Mihail and supplies from Novaya Petrovka. When we pulled in, people gathered around the truck really quickly knowing Mihail brought them food supplies and medicine. He was also the resident of Sinistok and local hero if you ask me. He took care of the elderly and tried to inspire hope with the rest. There was no time to waste there was a lot of work to be done. During the day we would work on old houses and barns, help in the fields, feed the livestock, and help the elderly with all their needs. As the sun was setting down, we would work on making dinner for most and I would read a little from the bible or just talk In general. None of them spoke English but luckily I had a great translator.

I stayed with Mihail, he had a small house in the center of the town. It was more a community center of sorts then a house. We kept the supplies in the basement, made food for the residents in the kitchen and everyone who needed a roof above their head was welcome to stay. A family of four came through town yesterday. It was late and they were looking for a place to possibly stay overnight. After talking to them Mihail said to me “They bring news. There was some military ruckus around Severograd, they are headed west. The children are tired, we should let them stay for the night.” Naturally we offered and they accepted. “Go to bed John” he continued “I will keep them company for the night, get some rest we have another long day ahead of us tomorrow!” I got in my sleeping bag and slowly doze off to the sight of a family sitting around the dining table, talking and giggling while eating leftover spaghetti. Made me very happy.

Writing ends here.


Edited by BigBadWolf

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