I can hear them moving around outside. I hope they'll lose interest in me soon. I hope they'll find easier prey. It's not like there's any shortage on people, right?
Right?
My name is Bjorn, and I'm currently in the middle of what is most aptly described as a zombie invasion. I refrain from calling it an apocalypse, because the word "apocalypse" implies that it's the end of the world. Call me an optimist, but I'll stick with my phrasing for the time being.
I find sleeping difficult at the best of times, and being locked in a bathroom the size of a phone booth - which is my current predicament - doesn't make it any easier. Being surrounded by the walking dead isn't really helping, either. So, instead of sleeping, I've decided to spend the night writing down everything that's happened so far. If the walkers aren't gone by sunrise, I guess I'll have to make a break for it.
Maybe someone will find this journal some day, when this is all over and I'm long dead. Maybe they'll make it mandatory reading in schools. A reliable first hand account of the zombie invasion and all that.
Or maybe it'll just be so much dust in the wind.
Maybe someone will find this journal some day, when this is all over and I'm long dead. Maybe they'll make it mandatory reading in schools. A reliable first hand account of the zombie invasion and all that.
Or maybe it'll just be so much dust in the wind.
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