Ximeria's Journal

I can hear them outside. Shuffling along the hallway, dragging their rotting limbs up the stairs, step by step.

I don't know for how much longer I'll be able to stay on. The power might be cut any minute now, or the connection to the internet. Who knows, some day someone might find all these entries about the end of the world as we know it. If there's anyone left on this god forsaken rock but zombies...

Don't know why all these people are zombies now. All I do know is what they want. Brains, yes, that's what they want. They want to gorge themselves on our brains.

I've tried the TV as well. It's all static, there's no news to get anymore. If I look out the window, I can see the ghostly streets, the occasional shadow of a slow moving zombie as it moves along the road, among partly crashed or burned out car wrecks.

Don't think you're safe, you're not. No one, it seems, knows how it happened. All of the sudden they're just there.

I think one of them, down there, is my downstairs neighbour. He was a nice guy, you know.

Even if the door holds, I won't survive. I've got food for now, though it won't last all that long. I think, if they don't get in here first, I'll end up going crazy, from all the noises out there and the stench... the stench is unbearable. The days are hot and the flesh is rotting on their bodies. Fast. It doesn't stop, them though.

If there's still any of you out there, alive, take care of yourselves. I don't see any chance of me getting out of here alive. The block I live in is like this huge box with smaller boxes full of zombie food. We can't get out, all they have to do is keep scratching at the door until they break through. The apartments are fucking lunch boxes to them...

I can hear something, I'm not sure....