The handwriting in this journal is clumsy, bordering on illegible at certain points.
I nearly die - - - oday. I would have. if I was alone no one would have known. o - - - e of them would have found me out there. oh my god, if I'd bit one of them-
the next few lines are completely illegible. the author clearly wasn't writing with a steady hand.
-ought a journal would help. organize my thoughts. help - - - nd me if something goes wrong. I don't like writing. not go - - - it. Mia writes all the time, and she has really pretty drawings. see the - - - ll over. left one in my room, and I hung it on the wall. she drew stars. pretty stars, from last night.
so, to focus. if something bothers me, I write it down. keep it - - - , so people know who I am. so P - - - don can find me. I'll mix it wit - - - notes. I should keep those safe anyway. already have a polaroid weirdo stalcking(???) people.
do - - - ook good. I need to stay focused. no slip-ups. focus.
they're worth it. keeping them safe. no slip-ups.
focus.
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--- A Short Poem ---
A page has been crammed into the middle of the notebook. It's clearly ripped from some other book, but it has few identifying marks on it otherwise. On it, a poem reads:
Little fly thy summer's play~
My thoughtless hand has brushed away~
Am I not a fly like thee?
Or art thou not a man like me?
For I dance and drink and sing~
'till some blind hand shall brush my wing~
If thought is life and strength and breath~
And the want of thought is death~
Then I am a happy fly~
if I live or if I die~
Then I am a happy fly~
If I live or if I die~
There are several small doodles near the bottom and in the margins of the page. There are a few attempts at flies, a rudimentary woman's face and three large black scribble marks where old drawings have been aggressively covered up. The page is otherwise undamaged.
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--- The Feeling of Sounds ---
This page is disorganized, with sentences haphazardly scribbled all over the page. They are written with several different shades of pens and pencils; it seems like they weren't written all at once.
the sound of fire feels like snapping a thick twig, just really fast.
the sound of the wind through trees feels like rubbing your hands along a comb.
a fridge sounds just like it feels. press your cheek against it.
a gunshot feels like getting hit in the head. obviously.
the sound of running water feels like rolling marbles in your hand.
Two lines in particular stand out. The author's handwriting is much more shaky, and much of the second line is hastily crossed out.
the sound of a car feels like gargling water in your mouth
d- - - eels like you're slowly being dragged underwater. eno - - - idn't want it. burning doesn't stop. - - - nothing.
voices vary. some feel like a soft cloth. others like I'm rolling on the ground.
P sounds like the feeling of stretching a rubber band.
B sounds like the feeling of your shoes clacking against wood floorboards.
D sounds like... This sentence trails off, unfinished.
M's laugh feels like tapping a small hammer on a smaller bell.
all of them at once is loud. trying to do all that at once is hard. maybe I should practice ringing a bell and stretching a rubber band and tapping my feet and doing... whatever. I could get better at it.
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--- The Murder Shack ---
A page in this journal contains several diagrams for a house. They seem to be hand-drawn, with two distinct sets of handwriting. You recognize the light and messy writing of the author, alongside a heavier and more organized hand.
There are several carpendry diagrams that have been stuffed into the notebook as well. They seem to be ripped out of a textbook. There are several attempts at sketches on the next few pages, none as organized as the final product.
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--- Journal Entry 2 ---
sometimes it feels like all my effort was wasted.
members of the NKR are still around. six months later. and of course it was Khazmat. I wish he'd just done everyone a favor and drove himself into a lake.
out of all the members I had to tolerate during my time there, he was one of the worst. he never talked to me. barely looked at me. never ate my food. he was involved in nearly every operation that took place while I was there. isn't it just cosmic irony that the one person to resurface after all this time was Lucy's murderer. this is not acceptable.
I've prepared for this though. it would be wishful thinking to believe they would be gone for good. and I know where he's going.
UC is taking him in soon. they seem suspicious, and rightfully so, but allowing him within the walls will be a mistake. if he wants them, he doesn't have good intentions. he will only bring destruction into those walls. I need to beat him there.
I'm going to meet with the team picking him up. use my alias as a former acquaintance. leave some food, prepared just for him. if things go well, he'll never see me and he'll be dead in days. if not, I'll need UC's cooperation. that... will be harder. I'll figure it out.
Just below this entry, the author continues this passage with a different pen. Their handwriting starts out neat, but it quickly deteriorates near the end if the passage.
update: food has been delivered. I left a note and food with someone at the gate, giving him explicit instructions to give both to Khaz. I also left the document I compiled on the NKR with him, with instructions to pass it along to Chloe. left a burner frequency. once they see my work, I hope they'll understand and will not interfere.
Khaz does not deserve to breathe the same air as them. I did not live through that torture to watch one of them weasel their way into UC. he will die, before he kills someone again. I hope, as he's slowly being dragged under, he realizes what he's done and regrets it. a fitting end to a despicable monster.
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--- Naomi's Acorn Bread ---
There's a small notecard taped onto the back of the cover. It details a recipe for the author's favorite acorn bread. The directions are vague at best.
need
- bowl
- spoon
- bread pan
- cooking oil (vegetable oil works I guess)
- 1 cup water
- 2 1/4 tsp. yeast
- 2 Tbsp. oil (undershoot this a bit, no cooking oil.)
- 1/3 cup sugar
- 2 tsp honey (need this for oatmeal)
- 1/2 cup ground acorn
- 2 1/2 - 3 cups of flour (corn flour works too)
- heat water up (not until it boils, somewhere around 100 degrees), then add a pinch of sugar and all yeast. wait until you see the foam.
- add the rest of the sugar, oil, honey, and about half of the flour. mix.
- once mixed, add in ground acorns and mix well. mix in the other half of the flour and the rest of the salt. should be squishy.
- sprinkle in herbs (thyme tastes good, oregano is also pretty cool.)
- SQUISH IT!
- let it rest in a bowl for an hour or so.
- PUNCH IT!
- set it in pan and let it rest again, another hour.
- preheat oven to 350 degrees and bake for half an hour. check around the 25 minute mark. if it's too crispy, cover it in aluminum foil.
- once done, remove and let it cool.
- EAT!
--- Breakdown ---
There's no header for this page. It's just incoherent scribbles
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--- Journal Entry 3 ---
I truly believe there's something magical about this house.
this is our (the word 'second' is scribbled out) third time having D and M over for dinner, and the look on their faces when they saw the place made me so happy. I was a bit behind on dinner prep, so P gave them the grand tour while I worked. I wish I could have shown them around myself, but just seeing them at ease as they returned to the kitchen was more than enough.
my favorite part of dinner prep has always been the last: the presentation. setting out bowls of soups and salads, plates of roasts and (of course) the pizza in a beautiful spread for those two is well worth the effort. there's an almost wild look in M's eyes every time she has to make her first choice. more often than not she just shovels the first thing she sees into her mouth. I can't complain, that woman needs calories!~
I do worry about her a lot. really, the first reason we have these dinners is to keep M and D healthy. every time they come over she seems to lose a few pounds, no matter how much I send home with them. where they live is busy, sure, but M must have enough time to find a bite to eat! I might send them home with some cooking supplies next time. maybe all the canned food we have. we haven't touched it since the infection began.
but there's one more reason we have these dinners. the week prior, D and M had lost two people very close to them. two people that I had not known too well. it feels weird to say this, but it's a common occurrence now. I had no clue how to help them when we started this. watching them over these past two three months, I've noticed the magic of this place work. they smile more here. laugh more. between movies, they reminisced on how cool and crazy G was, and how much of an impact A had on the town. it was the first time I'd seen M and D talk about the two with no sadness in their eyes.
we ended the night by watching the sunrise in my room. and looking back, I think that's what did it. there's something about being out here, away from everything, under the beautiful night sky. it's perfect. looking out of my window, I feel all my fear and guilt slip away. I never thought it would. I guess the magic of this house works on me, too~
Below this entry, there is a large and somewhat messy sketch of a starry sky over a forest, the sun just beginning to peek out above the trees.
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--- Untitled Polaroid ---
There's a polaroid photo slipped in-between the pages of the notebook
The photo shows two girls standing next to each other, the background appears to be an unorganized, but clean kitchen.
The girl on the left appears shorter than the one on the right. Their hair is black, short and messy. They're smiling, but it's noticeably forced compared to the rest of her face. She's rubbing her left arm with her right.
The girl on the right has long red hair, and is smiling. She's wearing an apron covered in powder and food stains. She has one arm extended holding the camera, and the other around the other girls shoulder, pulling her in slightly.
At the bottom of the picture there's a small caption: "Glad you stayed safe, to more photos!" - Polly
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--- Journal Entry 4 ---
This entry is small. It seems the author either didn't have much to say or couldn't think of the words. The writing is a bit shaky.
they know now. and it's fine. Mia's still my friend. Polly still... cares about me. and Liv finally showed her true colors. maybe she was always that way. I think I just never noticed. or tried too hard to ignore it.
I still see him at night. every time I sleep. every time I look at that board. I think he'll always be there.
but I'm not alone. Polly said she loves me. I... love her too. I feel safe with her.
after everything, nothing could ever change that.
There are small flowers drawn around Polly's name; something that the author seems to have repeated for previous entries.
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--- Journal Entry 5 ---
everything's gone to shit so quick. it's been a constant whirlwind that I'm losing sleep trying to keep up with it. writing it down might help a little.
first: the UN dropped fliers announcing that anyone left in the city of Louisville will be killed. everyone's leaving. has left. tassel's all but abandoned now. whole place collapsed quickly after the fliers dropped, despite some people's efforts in keeping everyone together. Liv took a large chunk of them and ran off to some swamp compound she's been working on. from what I saw, she had to have been working it it long before the threats came. the remnants were left behind to fend for themselves. we took S in. P and I both decided separately that we were okay with her living with us. easiest decision we've ever made.
the next line is scribbled in-between the two paragraphs, almost as an afterthought
oh, and Dyre's dead. I told him to leave. he didn't listen. never listened to me anyway. wish I had time to look for him. process. can't.
we decided to stay. P and I couldn't leave the house. even though it means we're going to have to fight off the increasing zombie population, the UN, and whatever other people stayed behind. we're not alone, though. our neighbors are staying behind. there's more than I thought. together we're holding at one of the larger compounds they built. S thinks they're going to drop noisemakers. we're going to fight, and make it look like we lost. then vanish.
so that's been half my time. the rest is spent over the radio, calling, calling, calling people constantly. I'm starting to feel like Dyre. nothing about this case is adding up, and it's looking more and more like someone's fucking with me. I've gone over my notes, and there's a glaring problem with all of it. the source of it. I have a horrible thought that I can't shake. will talk with partner about it. I have so little time. I'll have to go dark after lockdown happens so I'm not tracked. it's so frustrating, giving all the control to him. but I have to trust him. he's gotten me this far.
lockdown's happening tomorrow. I don't know what to do other than wrap up everything and build and stockpile ammo and just... make peace with the people I love. we don't have great odds. not the manpower of UC. or the defenses, or the firepower. we had a taste a few days back and a few of us nearly died. we're clearly not ready. but there's not much more we can do. I'll set down wire. A and W will work on the walls. come morning, we'll see if we're still here. wish us luck.
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--- Victory ---
A polaroid is secured on the next page of the journal. It depicts a group of seven all facing the camera and looking elated--at least, those whose faces are visible.
One of these faces is vaguely familiar: the young woman with messy black hair is leaning against one of the masked individuals, her smile much more genuine than the previous photo. While she still looks quite tired, there's a certain glow in her features that makes her exhaustion seem unimportant.
It's no doubt that after weeks of preparation and stress, this moment would mean a lot to the author.
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Scrawled in large letters at the bottom of the polaroid is the simple phrase:
WE LIVED!!!
Followed by many small doodles of flowers, trees, butterflies, and many other forest-related scribblings.
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