January 1, 2089
My name is Brody Jackson. "A new year means a new beginning." That's what my mum always used to tell me. I assure you, that was a lie. Maybe back then, a new year was meaningful. I find myself saying that a lot. Maybe back then I would care, but at this point, I care for little but survival. This is my journal, where I'll be writing about the sickening events that happen during the aftermath of the apocalypse. Maybe, if those things don't scourge the Earth, and humans triumph over this great Evil, someone will look back on this. Wonder what it was like. Say, "Maybe back then I would have been turned- become one of those creatures."
January 2, 2089
My room mate woke me up today. His name is Joe Wheelwright. He was the most excited I've seen him since we bagged a huge fresh elk. It was uninfected, and eating it wouldn't turn you into a flesh-eating freak. He explained that paper and pen are rare commodities. I knew this of course, and slightly dismissed him. I walked outside, needing more room than our cramped lodgings. You see, Joe and I live in a small fortified area simply called "Haven". It's not much, and it's certainly not well supplied, but it's home. Ah, the fresh air. If you consider fresh air to be littered by dust of all sorts and rife with dirt. I had a small serving of eggs for breakfast, and pretty much sat in the cramped dining hall until lunch. Which was roasted rat. Yum. I'll update this later... For now, farewell. -Brody.
Did you like this story? Should I continue it? Post and describe a character and I might put them in the story! Also, regular entries will usually be bigger than this.
January 1, 2089
My name is Brody Jackson. "A new year means a new beginning." That's what my mum always used to tell me. I assure you, that was a lie. Maybe back then, a new year was meaningful. I find myself saying that a lot. Maybe back then I would care, but at this point, I care for little but survival. This is my journal, where I'll be writing about the sickening events that happen during the aftermath of the apocalypse. Maybe, if those things don't scourge the Earth, and humans triumph over this great Evil, someone will look back on this. Wonder what it was like. Say, "Maybe back then I would have been turned- become one of those creatures."
January 2, 2089
My room mate woke me up today. His name is Joe Wheelwright. He was the most excited I've seen him since we bagged a huge fresh elk. It was uninfected, and eating it wouldn't turn you into a flesh-eating freak. He explained that paper and pen are rare commodities. I knew this of course, and slightly dismissed him. I walked outside, needing more room than our cramped lodgings. You see, Joe and I live in a small fortified area simply called "Haven". It's not much, and it's certainly not well supplied, but it's home. Ah, the fresh air. If you consider fresh air to be littered by dust of all sorts and rife with dirt. I had a small serving of eggs for breakfast, and pretty much sat in the cramped dining hall until lunch. Which was roasted rat. Yum. I'll update this later... For now, farewell. -Brody.
Did you like this story? Should I continue it? Post and describe a character and I might put them in the story! Also, regular entries will usually be bigger than this. 
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