I thought it was a person calling to me, but it wasn't, it is some kind of warped, transformed thing. It is double my size in height, appears all muscle, and its arms stretch out so long, but at the end, talons, claws, and if they slash at me, I'm instantly dead!
It has a long pointed face, its mouth full of teeth and it is dripping saliva all over, as if drooling at the prospect of a fresh meal: me.
Its skin looks tough, like I would have a hard time cutting into it, and I doubt my bullets are going to do a thing.
It stands there, eyeing me. Could it be sentient? Something tells me no, it is instinctive, and only wants one thing. I could make for the old shed, but it looks rickety, and I am certain it would destroy that in minutes to get at me, plus it is a dead end.
I pace backwards slightly, maintaining eye contact. I recall people said if confronted by a wild bear to do this, to just move away but stand tall, keep looking at it eye to eye, show you are not afraid and slowly turn to walk away.
Steam seems to pour out of its nostrils as it breaths, it seems both calm and at the same time physically alert, as if its mind is focused on its prey and body prepared to attack.
I am not convinced of what to do.
The beast with such fearsome claws has lurched towards me, I am running. My mind is a wild frenzy of thoughts; now I know what it is to be hunted. Damn these stupid soft shoes, they are of no use whatsoever. Recriminations are all well and good when you have the time to consider them, not so when a twelve foot creature is rampaging behind you swinging its long arms out to grab you.
The gravel underfoot is slippy, and there are huge rocks ahead. I shall go into there, see if I can lose it. I almost slip over, the ground is so poor, but I am in luck! The thing does exactly that, sliding heavily and crashing to the ground with a massive hit. Dust and bits fly all over, and for the moment nothing can be seen. Now, I must make my escape.
My lungs hurt, running so long, pounding on this rock hard surface. All I can see is a blur, no longer looking where I am going, just from what I am escaping from.
There, up ahead now, another building, red brick, and a smooth archway of glass nearby, perhaps steps leading down. I must go there.
The red building, it has boarded up windows, and a wooden door. For the first time I look around, and nothing is there. I must have escaped. I can laugh a little now, because I am alive, and free to starve and struggle and suffer another day.
As I went to try the handle on the door to the red building, it swung open. Standing before me is an old woman, thickly dressed in warm clothing, wearing a leather hat. Her face is full of lines, weather worn, and her hair an unkempt grey.
The problem is, she is holding a gun to my face, and staring at me, and I have literally dropped from the frying pan, into the fire.
'Perfect timing sonny, come on in and join me for dinner.' She says, and I am torn. I'm starving, but I don't like doing anything at gunpoint.
'Can you lower the gun, I'm a good guy.' I say to her.
She laughs, a cackling old laugh. 'Yeah sonny, that's what they all say.'
She keeps the gun at my face, beckoning me in. I have no choice. As she steps into the shadows inside, I step in. There is a small oil lamp giving light inside, and warmth from an open fire. There is a spit on it, some kind of meat turning. It smells awful.
She gestures for me to go to the back corner. It looks like it was an old shop once. There seems to be a lot of useful items here. Would I be wrong to try to take from her, it seems that is the way in the world.
I sit on an old wooden chair, it wobbles, but seems firm enough.
'Now, sonny, as I say, you can join me for dinner.'
'Thanks, I'm not hungry.' I say, just as my stomach rumbles so loud it sounds like a train passing.
The old woman stands closer to me now, and pulls out a knife, very long and seriously sharp. It glints in the light of the fire. Her face twitches, like that of the others who attacked me. I think, she is the same...
Life has given me simple choices so far, to hide, to run, and to fight. I have been lucky, and need to be now. I charge at her, grabbing the gun, she swings it upwards. The woman struggles, falling backwards over a chair, and I fall too, onto her. As we roll, she spits at me, vile creature. I hold onto the gun for dear life, but what of the knife?
The woman goes limp, her eyes lifting up as if in euphoria. I take a hold of her gun, in time to see a lake of blood spill from beneath her. Now I can see it, when she fell she dropped the knife, fell on it. It is in her.
My good luck, her bad. The sense of shame revisits me now, but not the same. I know what she wanted, what I wonder is, will the entire world be full of these savages?
I am hungry, but I won't eat that meat on the spit. I know what it is.
For now I shall sit by the warmth of its fire, try to ignore what the smell is, and regain my senses.
I suspect I have a very long, dangerous and hard road ahead of me. Luck won't be my companion always, so I must change...
Wednesday 27 July 2016
Tuesday 26 July 2016
9) Will the killing ever stop?
The way they call out, the things they say. They are complete strangers to me, and yet they seem to profess such an extreme hate towards me, that somehow I am sufficiently different to them and they to me, that they can see me as an outcast.
More than that, I am clearly not just prey, I am their food! What kind of world is it now, that allows such rampant cannibalism? Is there no law of the land, no moral guidance other than to sate hunger by the flesh and death of others?
I can recall a time, when the population of this planet of ours appeared to grow out of control. At ten billion they said it would begin to decline, but it didn't, it just kept accelerating. Between the wars of religion, and the wars for food and even clean water, we as a civilization had no chance.
Earth: Population 25 billion the headlines said, and at the point everyone panicked. Civil disorder appeared more common, looting, fighting between neighbours and even family. Food shortages were the worst, for families. It never got so bad as this, not like this.
Then the wars proper began. Nobody really said who fired first, trying to cull the excess they said! As if killing billions of people was humane, but for whom?
I was sick, I vaguely recall, in a hospital, malnutrition. Brought in somewhere, and then it all went dark. The last night I can remember, there was a terrible heat, crackling thunder and lightening. It was intense and insane, I was running a fever and sick as a dog. Then the flashes and explosions began, someone took me to a dark place, and then...
I woke up in that place I just left. And now, I no longer know who I am, or much at all about what is left of life. Deep in the recesses of my mind I can feel an instinct of what last happened. The thud and rock of nuclear fallout, explosions so ferocious it felt biblical, that the world was ending, and it was us that was doing it, us humans.
Now, here I am, kneeling in this decrepit hallway, knee deep in rubble and garbage, with yet again someone screaming for my blood, literally.
Footsteps down the hall, someone running. They don't seem to care, like they imagine I might be some scared child, waiting for the inevitable. I stand quickly, bring out my knife, swing it around, and then realize it is a woman, and she has a gun. She points it at me, point blank, I am dead for sure.
She fires, but she doesn't know what she is doing. There is a clear craziness about her, wild eyes and all instinct. Perhaps eating humans does that to you, but her aim is a mess, she has the shakes, like she needs a fix, and I'm it.
I have no choice, again I run at her and swing out, as much in a blind panic as she does in blind rage, but somehow my blade contacts her, I feel sick as blood oozes out, then pours. She slumps to the floor and lies still. Again, there is that sense, it takes a moment, but I come to know it is shame, that deep sense of regret, as once more I chip away at my humanity.
What will I become if I continue like this? Will I even be human at all?
I search her, find she has some useful items, a torch, no batteries, keep it for later. Also, she has that gun, and plenty of rounds. I think, I have a gun, why didn't I use it? Panic I guess. Now I have two, not great, but they will do the job.
She has some apples on her, I take a bite and it is vile. Not just bitter, but giving off a certain buzz. Surely not radioactive? Still, hunger will kill me quicker than radiation; I think.
So now I wander down these halls, and I can hear the old voices, the spirits of those that went before, and are now either ghosts or figments of my illusion. I have a voice in the back of my mind, asking me how they died, what they felt in their last moments. It makes me sick to think of it.
Enough, I run back and outside. The air now is cool, but fresh. I feel normal, even sane again. These rolling dusty hills, they are at odds with the building before me, they offer a possibility of life, where inside there, nothing but ghosts of the past and death. I shall move on.
As I walk along there is this tarmac road, and I find myself laughing, because it begins, and ends in the space of five meters, nothing more. It is like a road to and from nowhere, perhaps a bit like my life.
Something glitters ahead, in the distance. I wonder if perhaps it might be more than just someone wanting me for food, perhaps hope? I have no choice but to look and see. Now, surely not, but they appear to be waving. My heart beats harder, but for the right reasons this time.
I can see an old wooden shed, and someone in the distance is sat outside, waving, beckoning me. I can't help myself, I break out into a run, some real normal human...
No, no it can't be, what have I done?! ...
David Cowdall - Official Website
More than that, I am clearly not just prey, I am their food! What kind of world is it now, that allows such rampant cannibalism? Is there no law of the land, no moral guidance other than to sate hunger by the flesh and death of others?
I can recall a time, when the population of this planet of ours appeared to grow out of control. At ten billion they said it would begin to decline, but it didn't, it just kept accelerating. Between the wars of religion, and the wars for food and even clean water, we as a civilization had no chance.
Earth: Population 25 billion the headlines said, and at the point everyone panicked. Civil disorder appeared more common, looting, fighting between neighbours and even family. Food shortages were the worst, for families. It never got so bad as this, not like this.
Then the wars proper began. Nobody really said who fired first, trying to cull the excess they said! As if killing billions of people was humane, but for whom?
I was sick, I vaguely recall, in a hospital, malnutrition. Brought in somewhere, and then it all went dark. The last night I can remember, there was a terrible heat, crackling thunder and lightening. It was intense and insane, I was running a fever and sick as a dog. Then the flashes and explosions began, someone took me to a dark place, and then...
I woke up in that place I just left. And now, I no longer know who I am, or much at all about what is left of life. Deep in the recesses of my mind I can feel an instinct of what last happened. The thud and rock of nuclear fallout, explosions so ferocious it felt biblical, that the world was ending, and it was us that was doing it, us humans.
Now, here I am, kneeling in this decrepit hallway, knee deep in rubble and garbage, with yet again someone screaming for my blood, literally.
Footsteps down the hall, someone running. They don't seem to care, like they imagine I might be some scared child, waiting for the inevitable. I stand quickly, bring out my knife, swing it around, and then realize it is a woman, and she has a gun. She points it at me, point blank, I am dead for sure.
She fires, but she doesn't know what she is doing. There is a clear craziness about her, wild eyes and all instinct. Perhaps eating humans does that to you, but her aim is a mess, she has the shakes, like she needs a fix, and I'm it.
I have no choice, again I run at her and swing out, as much in a blind panic as she does in blind rage, but somehow my blade contacts her, I feel sick as blood oozes out, then pours. She slumps to the floor and lies still. Again, there is that sense, it takes a moment, but I come to know it is shame, that deep sense of regret, as once more I chip away at my humanity.
What will I become if I continue like this? Will I even be human at all?
I search her, find she has some useful items, a torch, no batteries, keep it for later. Also, she has that gun, and plenty of rounds. I think, I have a gun, why didn't I use it? Panic I guess. Now I have two, not great, but they will do the job.
She has some apples on her, I take a bite and it is vile. Not just bitter, but giving off a certain buzz. Surely not radioactive? Still, hunger will kill me quicker than radiation; I think.
So now I wander down these halls, and I can hear the old voices, the spirits of those that went before, and are now either ghosts or figments of my illusion. I have a voice in the back of my mind, asking me how they died, what they felt in their last moments. It makes me sick to think of it.
Enough, I run back and outside. The air now is cool, but fresh. I feel normal, even sane again. These rolling dusty hills, they are at odds with the building before me, they offer a possibility of life, where inside there, nothing but ghosts of the past and death. I shall move on.
As I walk along there is this tarmac road, and I find myself laughing, because it begins, and ends in the space of five meters, nothing more. It is like a road to and from nowhere, perhaps a bit like my life.
Something glitters ahead, in the distance. I wonder if perhaps it might be more than just someone wanting me for food, perhaps hope? I have no choice but to look and see. Now, surely not, but they appear to be waving. My heart beats harder, but for the right reasons this time.
I can see an old wooden shed, and someone in the distance is sat outside, waving, beckoning me. I can't help myself, I break out into a run, some real normal human...
No, no it can't be, what have I done?! ...
David Cowdall - Official Website
Monday 25 July 2016
8) Dreams and Nightmares
I slept heavily. I hadn't intended to do so, or spend so long in one place. I keep berating myself for allowing it, because it is relatively open, though still out of the way, and anyone could have sneaked up on me, stolen what little possessions I have acquired, and even perhaps killed me.
What did I intend? To sleep briefly, one eye open for the duration of my sleep. Fat chance.
My dreams, so awful. I can just feel the presence of those dead bodies. It all happened so fast, I had no time to think about it, but if I had I might not have done anything at all. I guess there's no talking with some people, such savages.
My dream: it was dark, patches of wandering mist floating around like slow motion water, that if it touched me I might feel its coldness, its corrosive dampness. Things moved like shadows, dancing around me, whispering things I couldn't understand.
I kept calling out, foolishly I know, asking them what they wanted. A face approached me, like a vision, its skin blue, white and radiant, almost floating before me, ethereal.
It just kept repeating: it wanted to be alive.
I felt so ashamed, I had taken a life, killed these people, but they were screaming, I saw the blood lust in their eyes, crimson rage, ready to rain down their savagery upon me, blow after blow.
I screamed at the woman, and as if a gust of wind had snatched her presence away she disappeared.
Still, I woke up crying, quietly, to myself.
What choices we have to make, civilization versus survival. We don't get to choose; our natural human instincts do it for us, kill or be killed.
The sun feels good again as it rises over the hills. This place I am in, I can imagine briefly what it must have been like, these stone stairs that lead to nowhere, once they would have been filled with life, people going back and forth. There are desks down below, I can imagine they must have had people using them.
I wonder what they might have thought it I could have shown them an image of the wasteland that it has become now.
Perhaps they would have pleaded, like the woman in my dream, that it is better to be alive.
I am hungry, I have a few items of food, but what seems most edible is in a tin, and I can't get into it. I shall have to search now, find something to cut it open with. This knife I have won't do it, I tried. Last thing I need is to cut myself.
That door, I can almost hear it calling my name, but then, what is my name? I wish it would tell me. I must go inside, but what lies in there waiting for me?
My body aches, but still it feels good, I feel better about myself, that I can survive.
It is silent here, nothing moves except the wind fluttering around nearby, outside these tall ruins. As I turn the handle, what appears to be brass, it squeals. If no one knew I was coming in, they do now. The door is black, rickety, but solid enough still. Eventually that insane noise as I turn the handle ceases, and with it my heart increases, pounding in my chest. A vision flashes into my mind that as I open it, something will leap out and envelope me, some strange creature wrapping itself onto me.
What a horrible thought.
No matter, I just did it, turned the handle and dragged hard at the door. The air was all that wrapped around me, a stale, pungent aroma, dried and dusty, like this place. As I step in shadows play around me, it seems there is a fire inside, I can smell its acrid burning on my nose. A total contrast to that which is outside, and an example of how fresh the air has become in the world, now that the pollution that was man has gone.
I hear a noise, something scratching. It's one of those cockroaches again, so large it's like a cat. My pipe takes care of it, as it splatters around me. I wonder if I shall have dreams of these things later.
As I walk there is a long corridor, floors covered in debris, walls all peeling paint and battered recesses. Some lockers adorn the walls, but empty, battered and broken, like the place in which they dwell.
A voice calls out, and I drop down, hiding like an afraid child. I can hear the click of something metallic, perhaps a heavy gun.
I know you're there...
A voice shouts and I feel a trickle of fear run down my spine. I shall wait here a moment, plan what to do, and be ready. Once again, I fear I may have to struggle for my life...
What did I intend? To sleep briefly, one eye open for the duration of my sleep. Fat chance.
My dreams, so awful. I can just feel the presence of those dead bodies. It all happened so fast, I had no time to think about it, but if I had I might not have done anything at all. I guess there's no talking with some people, such savages.
My dream: it was dark, patches of wandering mist floating around like slow motion water, that if it touched me I might feel its coldness, its corrosive dampness. Things moved like shadows, dancing around me, whispering things I couldn't understand.
I kept calling out, foolishly I know, asking them what they wanted. A face approached me, like a vision, its skin blue, white and radiant, almost floating before me, ethereal.
It just kept repeating: it wanted to be alive.
I felt so ashamed, I had taken a life, killed these people, but they were screaming, I saw the blood lust in their eyes, crimson rage, ready to rain down their savagery upon me, blow after blow.
I screamed at the woman, and as if a gust of wind had snatched her presence away she disappeared.
Still, I woke up crying, quietly, to myself.
What choices we have to make, civilization versus survival. We don't get to choose; our natural human instincts do it for us, kill or be killed.
The sun feels good again as it rises over the hills. This place I am in, I can imagine briefly what it must have been like, these stone stairs that lead to nowhere, once they would have been filled with life, people going back and forth. There are desks down below, I can imagine they must have had people using them.
I wonder what they might have thought it I could have shown them an image of the wasteland that it has become now.
Perhaps they would have pleaded, like the woman in my dream, that it is better to be alive.
I am hungry, I have a few items of food, but what seems most edible is in a tin, and I can't get into it. I shall have to search now, find something to cut it open with. This knife I have won't do it, I tried. Last thing I need is to cut myself.
That door, I can almost hear it calling my name, but then, what is my name? I wish it would tell me. I must go inside, but what lies in there waiting for me?
My body aches, but still it feels good, I feel better about myself, that I can survive.
It is silent here, nothing moves except the wind fluttering around nearby, outside these tall ruins. As I turn the handle, what appears to be brass, it squeals. If no one knew I was coming in, they do now. The door is black, rickety, but solid enough still. Eventually that insane noise as I turn the handle ceases, and with it my heart increases, pounding in my chest. A vision flashes into my mind that as I open it, something will leap out and envelope me, some strange creature wrapping itself onto me.
What a horrible thought.
No matter, I just did it, turned the handle and dragged hard at the door. The air was all that wrapped around me, a stale, pungent aroma, dried and dusty, like this place. As I step in shadows play around me, it seems there is a fire inside, I can smell its acrid burning on my nose. A total contrast to that which is outside, and an example of how fresh the air has become in the world, now that the pollution that was man has gone.
I hear a noise, something scratching. It's one of those cockroaches again, so large it's like a cat. My pipe takes care of it, as it splatters around me. I wonder if I shall have dreams of these things later.
As I walk there is a long corridor, floors covered in debris, walls all peeling paint and battered recesses. Some lockers adorn the walls, but empty, battered and broken, like the place in which they dwell.
A voice calls out, and I drop down, hiding like an afraid child. I can hear the click of something metallic, perhaps a heavy gun.
I know you're there...
A voice shouts and I feel a trickle of fear run down my spine. I shall wait here a moment, plan what to do, and be ready. Once again, I fear I may have to struggle for my life...
Tuesday 19 July 2016
7) Gunfire and Predators
I have no means to fight back, other than an empty pistol and a metal pipe. I'm hiding behind some rubble, a piece of fallen building and debris, around the corner from where the shots are coming from.
Whoever is firing at me, keeps screaming obscenities, as if I am some kind of sworn enemy. One of them sounds like a woman, but she is extremely angry. She screams something odd: She wants to eat the meat from my bones, and celebrate by drinking my blood. Horrible.
I didn't see it coming, one of them just suddenly appeared right next to me as I was crouched. When I looked up all I could see was the sun crashing down, blinding me. I instinctively put my arm up, not only to block the intense light, but to try to shield myself. In several blinks of an eye, I realized it was the woman who had been screaming, I saw she didn't have a gun, only a large stick in her hand with nails pointing out, and she raised up at me, a look in her eyes that seemed insane, hell bent on my destruction.
She yelled something awful, my mind was a blur, and I cannot quite remember what she said, but I just felt her intent. I can barely recall what happened next, but something about me made her pause, merely a heartbeat in time, but enough so that as she stood, wide eyed, I was able to leap up and strike her.
Whatever I did, it was enough. I cracked my pipe against the side of her head and she just dropped, empty as if the wind had taken her like a kite, before flopping to the ground.
I thought to take her stick, but before I could do so another of them rounded on me, this time he had a pistol, same as mine, and he began to aim it at me. Without thinking I rush lifted the stick of hers, swung it hard and it twisted in the air before cracking him in the face. One of the nails slashed into him, and in his shock he dropped his gun. It all just seemed to (luckily) go right for me, and I managed to grab his gun, cock its hammer and fire off a shot. Got him square between the eyes.
I don't recall being so lucky, but then I don't recall anything, but it certainly seems I have an knack with guns.
As it seemed I was being lucky I ran at the last of them, rounded the corner, up what was left of some steps and when I had an angle, spotted the third of the crazies, and fired, one shot, bang, gone. Down in one fell swoop.
So in nothing more than a few moments, it is over. I fought for my life, in a way that I did not imagine I could, and I came out alive. More than I can say for these three crazies, but then, they don't altogether seem human.
One of them has a necklace, one of the men, but it's actually made up of what seem to be human teeth. I checked, and they all have their own very clean and very sharp teeth intact. Must be from others, their prey perhaps.
I searched all three, they were wearing one or two bits of armor, and some leather clothes which look too constrictive for me, so I skipped those. I'll keep what I have on for now, but the armor might help.
The woman had some things on her, a small silver ring, might be able to trade it, and some food. A tin of something called crab cakes, sounds awful, but might be needed, and some red meat, smells off, strange and I don't recognize it, but I left it. I shudder to imagine what it might be.
There is some bedding up at the top of the steps, and some bottled water. Not exactly sanctuary, but good for now. I shall rest. I spotted a door, it appears intact, and I might go in later. See what I can find.
For now, I shall lay here on this bedding for now, sleep if I can for sure, but for certain, keep one eye open...
Whoever is firing at me, keeps screaming obscenities, as if I am some kind of sworn enemy. One of them sounds like a woman, but she is extremely angry. She screams something odd: She wants to eat the meat from my bones, and celebrate by drinking my blood. Horrible.
I didn't see it coming, one of them just suddenly appeared right next to me as I was crouched. When I looked up all I could see was the sun crashing down, blinding me. I instinctively put my arm up, not only to block the intense light, but to try to shield myself. In several blinks of an eye, I realized it was the woman who had been screaming, I saw she didn't have a gun, only a large stick in her hand with nails pointing out, and she raised up at me, a look in her eyes that seemed insane, hell bent on my destruction.
She yelled something awful, my mind was a blur, and I cannot quite remember what she said, but I just felt her intent. I can barely recall what happened next, but something about me made her pause, merely a heartbeat in time, but enough so that as she stood, wide eyed, I was able to leap up and strike her.
Whatever I did, it was enough. I cracked my pipe against the side of her head and she just dropped, empty as if the wind had taken her like a kite, before flopping to the ground.
I thought to take her stick, but before I could do so another of them rounded on me, this time he had a pistol, same as mine, and he began to aim it at me. Without thinking I rush lifted the stick of hers, swung it hard and it twisted in the air before cracking him in the face. One of the nails slashed into him, and in his shock he dropped his gun. It all just seemed to (luckily) go right for me, and I managed to grab his gun, cock its hammer and fire off a shot. Got him square between the eyes.
I don't recall being so lucky, but then I don't recall anything, but it certainly seems I have an knack with guns.
As it seemed I was being lucky I ran at the last of them, rounded the corner, up what was left of some steps and when I had an angle, spotted the third of the crazies, and fired, one shot, bang, gone. Down in one fell swoop.
So in nothing more than a few moments, it is over. I fought for my life, in a way that I did not imagine I could, and I came out alive. More than I can say for these three crazies, but then, they don't altogether seem human.
One of them has a necklace, one of the men, but it's actually made up of what seem to be human teeth. I checked, and they all have their own very clean and very sharp teeth intact. Must be from others, their prey perhaps.
I searched all three, they were wearing one or two bits of armor, and some leather clothes which look too constrictive for me, so I skipped those. I'll keep what I have on for now, but the armor might help.
The woman had some things on her, a small silver ring, might be able to trade it, and some food. A tin of something called crab cakes, sounds awful, but might be needed, and some red meat, smells off, strange and I don't recognize it, but I left it. I shudder to imagine what it might be.
There is some bedding up at the top of the steps, and some bottled water. Not exactly sanctuary, but good for now. I shall rest. I spotted a door, it appears intact, and I might go in later. See what I can find.
For now, I shall lay here on this bedding for now, sleep if I can for sure, but for certain, keep one eye open...
Monday 18 July 2016
6) It truly does look like a wasteland.
As I look out onto the great expanse, I am struck by how bleak it appears. I can see to the shimmering heat in the distance what appears like a broken landscape of desert and vegetation. Beyond this outcrop from where I am stood, this grey rock, it appears to be a steep drop downwards.
As I find my way carefully, I can hear the sound of the ground beneath my feet. It seems dry, brittle, as if not only the sun has baked it through an immense time, but also that something else had destroyed it, ruined the fabric of the ground itself.
There are patches of green springing up here and there, but not a lot. what there is seems spiky, prickly, like a cactus, but I feel certain not edible.
I come across a container, it appears to be made of metal. When I kicked it, it rolled a little, clattering as it went. It seems odd, such sounds in what has until now been a void, a place where other than my breathing sounds do not exist.
This metal container, it has a door. I open it, and inside is a stench I can barely comprehend. There appears to be some kind of meat in it, not too fresh, and certainly nothing I recognize. It glistens red in parts, as if whatever it was is still in the process of dying.
The sun is hot, almost unbearable. If I do not find some kind of shelter soon, and surely a source of sustenance, I will likely perish. I stop and look around, and in every direction I see a fine clear shimmering, like heat on a desert floor. It doesn't bode well for my progress.
Will I die before I have even begun?
I know I have little alternative, and so I continue. I stumble occasionally as I walk, feeling the cross of the heat and a bitter perspective on my future, that this may be all there is. A hopeless wandering until I fall, dead prey for whatever life remains out here.
Am I all alone? The last man standing here.
I come across something I never expected to see, a metal sign on a high post. On it are the words:
As I find my way carefully, I can hear the sound of the ground beneath my feet. It seems dry, brittle, as if not only the sun has baked it through an immense time, but also that something else had destroyed it, ruined the fabric of the ground itself.
There are patches of green springing up here and there, but not a lot. what there is seems spiky, prickly, like a cactus, but I feel certain not edible.
I come across a container, it appears to be made of metal. When I kicked it, it rolled a little, clattering as it went. It seems odd, such sounds in what has until now been a void, a place where other than my breathing sounds do not exist.
This metal container, it has a door. I open it, and inside is a stench I can barely comprehend. There appears to be some kind of meat in it, not too fresh, and certainly nothing I recognize. It glistens red in parts, as if whatever it was is still in the process of dying.
The sun is hot, almost unbearable. If I do not find some kind of shelter soon, and surely a source of sustenance, I will likely perish. I stop and look around, and in every direction I see a fine clear shimmering, like heat on a desert floor. It doesn't bode well for my progress.
Will I die before I have even begun?
I know I have little alternative, and so I continue. I stumble occasionally as I walk, feeling the cross of the heat and a bitter perspective on my future, that this may be all there is. A hopeless wandering until I fall, dead prey for whatever life remains out here.
Am I all alone? The last man standing here.
I come across something I never expected to see, a metal sign on a high post. On it are the words:
RIVERDALE
Amazing. Signs of life, or what is left of it. I walk over a small hill past the sign, and there appears signs of buildings. Fallen, broken, perhaps empty, but they offer greater hope than I have felt for some time.
A loud cracking sound rings out, like gunfire. It reminds me of a time before, reminds me that I know guns, and this is the sound of an attack. Another shot rings out, and another, pinging off rocks near me.
Someone is shooting at me. I must find cover. I shall wait and see, see who it is that wishes to attack me. I will be ready.
Tuesday 12 July 2016
5) Entering the Wasteland.
I did it, I really did it.
It took all my strength to build up to just look at the control panel. The moment I made the decision to go and look, to actually make an effort to go outside, I began to panic. Wondering just what might be out there, but how could I know, I don't even know who I am, what my name is, anything about why I am here, and given that, of course I would have no idea what to expect.
The panel was yellow, some faded lights on it, in a semi circle, and a lever to push across, one said locked, next unlock, then open and then the rest was worn away. It's like a lot of what I have seen here, not much dust, but everything seems dulled by time, worn away.
How long have I been in here?
I overcame my sickly feeling, I had to, because deep down I know this place is a dead end, that if I don't get out, I'll either starve to death or from thirst, or complete madness.
The lever was stiff, but I got it to work, and then this incredible racket, a maddening noise, screeching metal against metal, so loud my ears felt like they would bleed. This large wheel of a door, began to turn, bits of dirt and debris built up clearly over a very long time, years, could it be decades? I was so eager to see, so curious, waiting like the cat to be killed, but by what?
It did stop eventually, thankfully. And again silence descended upon me, like a blanket dropping across my face, reminding me how alone I am. I can feel the loneliness, almost taste it, like sour cream and bitter honey.
Down beyond this great rusting door is a cave like tunnel, leading to a simple wooden door. I have stood here, marveling at how brave I am, at opening a door, and yet I haven't taken a step since.
As I walk, I can see odd things growing in the cave walls; water runs down, like a vertical stream, and out of this water grows strange green things, like tendrils of moss, given strength to move away from itself, reaching out as if it might grab its prey at any moment. It doesn't of course, it just sits there, but how unusual it is to see.
This wooden door, this final place of safety. Will I open it and be engulfed in some kind of storm, or will a bizarre looking creature be sitting on the other side, waiting for me?
As I open the door, it creaks, not like the screeching metal of before, but quietly, like an old tree warning of a coming storm. Again dust drops to the ground, a reminder of its age; my age.
I push the door out and step through, and I am blinded by the bright sunshine, its warmth papering my skin, and I can breath in truly rich air again, enjoy its splendor, literally wash away my dread and foreboding.
As my eyes adjust, I look out onto what I imagine to be a new heaven, a place where I may one day find a home. It is a desert, rocks, sand, miles of it.
I drop to my knees, wondering what I will find in the time to come. I am haunted by the fear of it.
It took all my strength to build up to just look at the control panel. The moment I made the decision to go and look, to actually make an effort to go outside, I began to panic. Wondering just what might be out there, but how could I know, I don't even know who I am, what my name is, anything about why I am here, and given that, of course I would have no idea what to expect.
The panel was yellow, some faded lights on it, in a semi circle, and a lever to push across, one said locked, next unlock, then open and then the rest was worn away. It's like a lot of what I have seen here, not much dust, but everything seems dulled by time, worn away.
How long have I been in here?
I overcame my sickly feeling, I had to, because deep down I know this place is a dead end, that if I don't get out, I'll either starve to death or from thirst, or complete madness.
The lever was stiff, but I got it to work, and then this incredible racket, a maddening noise, screeching metal against metal, so loud my ears felt like they would bleed. This large wheel of a door, began to turn, bits of dirt and debris built up clearly over a very long time, years, could it be decades? I was so eager to see, so curious, waiting like the cat to be killed, but by what?
It did stop eventually, thankfully. And again silence descended upon me, like a blanket dropping across my face, reminding me how alone I am. I can feel the loneliness, almost taste it, like sour cream and bitter honey.
Down beyond this great rusting door is a cave like tunnel, leading to a simple wooden door. I have stood here, marveling at how brave I am, at opening a door, and yet I haven't taken a step since.
As I walk, I can see odd things growing in the cave walls; water runs down, like a vertical stream, and out of this water grows strange green things, like tendrils of moss, given strength to move away from itself, reaching out as if it might grab its prey at any moment. It doesn't of course, it just sits there, but how unusual it is to see.
This wooden door, this final place of safety. Will I open it and be engulfed in some kind of storm, or will a bizarre looking creature be sitting on the other side, waiting for me?
As I open the door, it creaks, not like the screeching metal of before, but quietly, like an old tree warning of a coming storm. Again dust drops to the ground, a reminder of its age; my age.
I push the door out and step through, and I am blinded by the bright sunshine, its warmth papering my skin, and I can breath in truly rich air again, enjoy its splendor, literally wash away my dread and foreboding.
As my eyes adjust, I look out onto what I imagine to be a new heaven, a place where I may one day find a home. It is a desert, rocks, sand, miles of it.
I drop to my knees, wondering what I will find in the time to come. I am haunted by the fear of it.
Monday 11 July 2016
04) Strange creatures.
I got attacked. I don't understand it, I knew cockroaches could get quite large, seen a few in my time, even hissing ones, but these things, they're as big as a cat. There were five of them, making a terrible clicking noises. At first I thought they wouldn't bother me, but one of them seemed to notice and the others followed. I got bitten, feels painful. I swiped a piece of metal pipe and smashed out at them, just swinging in a frenzy.
I have never been so terrified in all my life. I wake up to this stinking tomb, dripping water and faded lights, and endless oceans of silence; then this.
I feel like I have sinned and dropped into hell.
There are storage lockers in here, I opened a few as they weren't locked. Got some ammunition for a gun, not sure what type but it doesn't fit this gun I have.
My arm is scratched, and going to need some bandages or a plaster or something.
I can see ahead now into an open complex, as I walk there are rooms leading off, one looks like a kitchen, I shall go look in a moment, but others appear to have beds in them. If this place weren't so devoid of life or even fresh air I might have tried to make a base here, but all I can think about is getting away.
The kitchen area, there is a fridge and inside are some tins of food, the label I don't recognize. Some other food in it has gone off, no chance of eating that. There is a sink, some water ran out when I tried it, but it is brown, doesn't look safe, so I will wait.
There is a large circular wheel thing ahead, which looks to be the way out. Before that is a control panel, and funnily enough it is lit up. I wonder if I should take a look, but what if the door opens and there is something terrible outside, waiting for me?
I have to go. There's not enough here to keep me alive, I know that.
One of the bedrooms, if you can call them that, sheet metal walls with paint flaking off, and a simple cot with cabinet beside, it had a photograph frame on it. The picture seemed to be of a family, but not mine. I don't recognize them.
I don't know why, but I removed the picture, folded it up and put it in my jacket pocket. A weird kind of company perhaps.
Yes! Found some clothes in another bedroom area, in a locker. Not much, trousers, thick shirt, a bit baggy, and some boots, good enough to keep the cold out.
I'm making some kind of progress. I'm going to open this door, if it will work, and go outside.
Wish me luck.
I have never been so terrified in all my life. I wake up to this stinking tomb, dripping water and faded lights, and endless oceans of silence; then this.
I feel like I have sinned and dropped into hell.
There are storage lockers in here, I opened a few as they weren't locked. Got some ammunition for a gun, not sure what type but it doesn't fit this gun I have.
My arm is scratched, and going to need some bandages or a plaster or something.
I can see ahead now into an open complex, as I walk there are rooms leading off, one looks like a kitchen, I shall go look in a moment, but others appear to have beds in them. If this place weren't so devoid of life or even fresh air I might have tried to make a base here, but all I can think about is getting away.
The kitchen area, there is a fridge and inside are some tins of food, the label I don't recognize. Some other food in it has gone off, no chance of eating that. There is a sink, some water ran out when I tried it, but it is brown, doesn't look safe, so I will wait.
There is a large circular wheel thing ahead, which looks to be the way out. Before that is a control panel, and funnily enough it is lit up. I wonder if I should take a look, but what if the door opens and there is something terrible outside, waiting for me?
I have to go. There's not enough here to keep me alive, I know that.
One of the bedrooms, if you can call them that, sheet metal walls with paint flaking off, and a simple cot with cabinet beside, it had a photograph frame on it. The picture seemed to be of a family, but not mine. I don't recognize them.
I don't know why, but I removed the picture, folded it up and put it in my jacket pocket. A weird kind of company perhaps.
Yes! Found some clothes in another bedroom area, in a locker. Not much, trousers, thick shirt, a bit baggy, and some boots, good enough to keep the cold out.
I'm making some kind of progress. I'm going to open this door, if it will work, and go outside.
Wish me luck.
http://www.davidcowdall.com
Tuesday 5 July 2016
3) I need food, I must eat.
I feel confused, my memory is so poor, I can't focus on the faces in my mind of the people I think I know. I don't even know who I am myself.
The skittering around is so annoying, I just have to do something about it. It sounds like the cockroaches I used to get in my flat, where at night, head on my pillow I could hear them scratching around. They sound much louder now, making me wonder if there are a lot more of them. Nightmares.
Oh how I wish for a soft, warm pillow right now.
Just in case, I searched around, looked for something solid to protect myself, found an old piece of metal pipe, quite heavy. Anything comes my way, I am prepared.
As I walk down the corridors, up the few steps into each new room, I can see small lights occasionally on the walls, providing not just a source to see, but shadows that move as I walk. It creeps me out.
My feet are cold on the hard, wet concrete; must find some shoes or boots soon.
I can hear water dripping somewhere, but other than that I am alone in the silence, and I feel very lonely.
There was another door at the end of the corridor, looked very heavy, but when I pushed against it, it moved easily aside. A large room stands before me, with metal lockers around the walls and a table, knocked over in the middle of the floor. There are some broken chairs here, looks like there has been some kind of fight.
I am ready.
Amazing! I found a hand gun, looks in excellent condition. It was in an old lunch box, which was very worn, but when I opened it, here was this thing. No bullets though, I'll keep searching.
I need food, and some drink, can't go much longer without, my stomach aches. I found an old workman's vest too, something else to cover me. It's not much, but better than the slight thing I had on.
Got to go out now, through the next door, but the weird sounds I keep hearing, the scratching, moving, almost as if beyond that door is alive, I have to go there.
I cannot go back, no point now, through there is the only choice. I shall push hard on it and see.
Wish me luck...
The skittering around is so annoying, I just have to do something about it. It sounds like the cockroaches I used to get in my flat, where at night, head on my pillow I could hear them scratching around. They sound much louder now, making me wonder if there are a lot more of them. Nightmares.
Oh how I wish for a soft, warm pillow right now.
Just in case, I searched around, looked for something solid to protect myself, found an old piece of metal pipe, quite heavy. Anything comes my way, I am prepared.
As I walk down the corridors, up the few steps into each new room, I can see small lights occasionally on the walls, providing not just a source to see, but shadows that move as I walk. It creeps me out.
My feet are cold on the hard, wet concrete; must find some shoes or boots soon.
I can hear water dripping somewhere, but other than that I am alone in the silence, and I feel very lonely.
There was another door at the end of the corridor, looked very heavy, but when I pushed against it, it moved easily aside. A large room stands before me, with metal lockers around the walls and a table, knocked over in the middle of the floor. There are some broken chairs here, looks like there has been some kind of fight.
I am ready.
Amazing! I found a hand gun, looks in excellent condition. It was in an old lunch box, which was very worn, but when I opened it, here was this thing. No bullets though, I'll keep searching.
I need food, and some drink, can't go much longer without, my stomach aches. I found an old workman's vest too, something else to cover me. It's not much, but better than the slight thing I had on.
Got to go out now, through the next door, but the weird sounds I keep hearing, the scratching, moving, almost as if beyond that door is alive, I have to go there.
I cannot go back, no point now, through there is the only choice. I shall push hard on it and see.
Wish me luck...
Monday 4 July 2016
2) I can feel something, hear something.
The air is so dank I find it hard to breathe. I can hear some kind of skittering sounds around me, hidden but enough so that it makes my skin crawl.
All I am wearing are shorts and a vest, and I feel as if I have slept a thousand years. There isn't much light, but what there is I can see lots of cubicles, mostly empty, but a few with broken glass, like the one I seem to have lived in.
Was I born here? I don't even know my name, if I even have one.
Slowly I know I am beginning to feel. I can feel the sensation of the slight rush of air against the hairs on my arms, the brush of some kind of presence on my face. It feels cool, but right somehow. The floor is cold and wet, as if we are underground, beneath a giant lake. I wonder that because I can hear the faint tapping of water, dripping onto something hard nearby.
I am cold. I must find warmth somehow soon. My stomach feels empty, I need food, but I have no memories of the last time I ate. At least there must be water around, but is it clean? I have no idea, but I guess I should search and see.
There it is, that skittering around again, like spiders crawling all over the place. Are they hidden in the shadows? What does it mean? Am I safe?
I don't think I am.
I shall go searching...
All I am wearing are shorts and a vest, and I feel as if I have slept a thousand years. There isn't much light, but what there is I can see lots of cubicles, mostly empty, but a few with broken glass, like the one I seem to have lived in.
Was I born here? I don't even know my name, if I even have one.
Slowly I know I am beginning to feel. I can feel the sensation of the slight rush of air against the hairs on my arms, the brush of some kind of presence on my face. It feels cool, but right somehow. The floor is cold and wet, as if we are underground, beneath a giant lake. I wonder that because I can hear the faint tapping of water, dripping onto something hard nearby.
I am cold. I must find warmth somehow soon. My stomach feels empty, I need food, but I have no memories of the last time I ate. At least there must be water around, but is it clean? I have no idea, but I guess I should search and see.
There it is, that skittering around again, like spiders crawling all over the place. Are they hidden in the shadows? What does it mean? Am I safe?
I don't think I am.
I shall go searching...
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