Entry 01: First Night

I ran and ran and ran, clamoring up the sharp steep hills of the forest in a desperate hope to lose the town behind me. But even as the buildings, streets and dead lights shrunk from view, I felt like I couldn't escape the eyes. They floated behind me, the gaze stalking me past the vegetation, through the graveled paths, and into the shadowed woods.

I had no watch so I couldn't tell how long I ran for. Maybe an hour, a little under that? To be honest, I didn't care; the cityscape was now caged behind branch and leaf, and I felt a little bit safer. I took a second to rest, lazily plopping onto a large boulder as I caught my breath. Of course, my mind felt that this would be the perfect time to analyze and think on what I had just experienced, thusly the questions flooded. Why is the city destroyed? Why is the terrain completely different and mountainous, as if the earth completely remolded itself? …What was that thing inside the bar?

What if that actually was a person and my mind was still muddled up from the collapse of the building? But, if they were normal why did they just stand there, in the shadows? You would come and ask another survivor what was going on, right? Even though, there weren't any other people around whatsoever...

I tried to remember what had happened before I woke up stuck in the ground; there were fragments of morning orange juice and bacon, then going out for my hike. Then as I was rounding the gravel path, it was like the whole earth shook. Out of nowhere large spikes of rock and ground ripped into the sky around me, the soil beneath the grass bulging like a swollen blotch. I remembered, the force of the ground rumbling throw my feet out from under me, and sent my head thrashing into the side of a nearby tree. I blacked out and I guess the dirt started to rain over me.

Thank God I wasn't buried alive.

My breathing had returned to normal, so I stood back up and focused my mind back onto what mattered at the moment: finding out how to survive. Going back into the city was out of the question, especially after I had just spent an hour or so escaping from it. Any sort of cottages or cabins in these woods would have been smashed to splinters by the initial rupture...it seems that there was only one option. I'd have to build my own shelter from scratch...

The thought killed me, especially with how difficult the feat was going to be. Well, at least I have an abundance of wood. Tossing my pack onto the floor I fished out the stone axe from inside, and talked up to the shortest tree in view. It was about nine to ten feet high; it'd probably be good for a corner pillar or the foundation, depending on how I go about it. Thankfully the axe was sharp and light, and with a quick slash of the arm, I had already cut a fifth into the bark below. Four more good chops should do it.

You know, I never knew how important it was to be able to tell time until now. I had managed to down about five trees in what felt like maybe two-three hours, and hauled them to an empty spot in the forest, perfect for hastily cobbling up a half-assed wooden fort. I used them to outline the foundation: a nice solid rectangle about twelve by fourteen feet. Each log was about one and a half feet thick, so if I leveled up about four more on top of them, I think it could work out, especially if I use the planks I bought with me as support colum-

A branch cracked in two somewhere, snatching my attention away from my work. All I could see were trees as I swerved around the landscape, and only then did I realize exactly how late it was. I didn't need a watch to tell that the entire forest would be netted in black with a few minutes...and I had nowhere to rest or hide...

The branch crackings played once more, this time in another direction. I had to think; there was no caves or pits to rest in nearby, and if I ran back to the city it would take me at least another hour. My shelter was not even 10% done...

My axe took a backseat as I dropped it back into the bag, switching it out for my pickaxe. Then, in quick hacking movements, I plunged the tool into a massive mount of dirt right behind my soon-to-be home. Idiotic to be doing this with a damn pickaxe, why didn't my friend have a goddamn stone shovel or something? Regardless, it was better than digging with my hands or scraping into it with the axe. I used the side of the pickaxe to carve deeper and deeper into the mound, noticing that there was a stone ceiling above my dig, lucky for me. The pain of the branches being crushed by unknown feet hastened my efforts, until I could finally reach in deep enough that I could fit myself and my supplies. Tossing the pickaxe and backpack inside, I blazed out and maddeningly searched for two of the pieces of wood I had bought with me. I found them again the foundation, ripped them away, and dove back into my soiled crawlspace, stuffing the wood in between me and the hole I had made...

I was gonna put my faith in a piece of wood to keep whatever was out there for finding me...if I wasn't panicky and desperate I would curse myself out for thinking of such an idiotic idea. But despite this I made sure they stuck good into the dirt, using the excess amount I had dug to reinforce the planks, though small cracks in between them still slit through.

I figured I was safe, the hole dark enough that whatever was out there couldn't see my movements if they looked in. I could only hope that they weren't intelligent enough to question the existence of wooden planks stuffed into a dirt mound.

I collapsed onto the ground, let my head mold and comb into the dirt. It was moist and clay-like, weirdly comfortable actually. Unfortunately I couldn't move or turn away from facing the door for fear of the whole mound collapsing on top of me, so I was forced to gaze out into the night. I closed my eyes to try and sleep, though at this point it was futile, as the noises had begun to evolve beyond just the snapping deaths of tree limbs.

There were things walking outside my mound, groaning and humming deep incomprehensible tones that wormed into my ears. They were all draped in shadow but the parts that I did manage to see...were inhuman, nor were they animalistic. They were just...indescribable. Their limbs were twisted and their bodies saggy from emaciation, like...zombies.

They shuffled and kicked around into the trees and hills, tripping upon themselves as they wandered aimlessly into the forest. But one the majority of them had left the scene, one last straggler stepped into view. I recognized him immediately, not from the torn jeans, not from the red plaid shirt, but from the bleeding red eyes. They glowed, they fucking glowed, pulsating with a hunger for something. I don't even think the damn thing knew what it wanted...it just wanted to eat.

I swear it looked straight at me through the cracks, but it didn't even try to move the planks. It just turned back around and slowly followed its brethren, its left leg slumped and twisted.

What the hell happened to this world? These things are not supposed to exist...I know it.