With Our Own Eyes

Day 37

Sept. 1st, 2013

Hey its Riley. Advice of the day is to never panic if you're fighting a bunch of zombies. Well, you can panic a little if you want.

The group left Nick and I behind. They left the car, everyone following Keith out the door. It got so quiet I wanted to scream, or, atleast have some company that wasn't dieing or already dead.

In the afternoon I cooked some chicken soup remaining in the pantry and gave half of it to Nick who sipped weakly at the spoon.

"Do you feel any better?" I ask tiredly.

Nick smirks, but then closes his eyes and falls back to sleep. I ate the rest of the soup.

Afterwards I went over to the piano and dusted it off. It was broken, but still looked pretty spiffy with that new shine. Almost all the keys were gone now. The strings inside were all snapped and a leg had broken so now it was leaning.

If you ever read this Juliana, let me tell you, this piano looked worse than your pet cat Mittens when he was sick and puking everywhere.

I found a computer and chair, but the windows surrounding it were cracking, so I decided the room was unsafe. I cleaned the toilet and realized all the toilet paper was gone. That. Sucks.

Ofcourse, I had to leave the house and bombard another house, but I chose to do it at night.

Once evening set in I set a gun in my pocket and headed outside. The house looked more grey now then blue. I walked quickly to the neighbors house and kicked open the already broken door down. Once the wind got in, dust flew up from the floor and knocked over shelves and sofa. Blood dripped from a crack in the ceiling.

I decided to head upstairs like they do in horror movies. You're the one screaming, "Don't go upstairs!" Or "Don't go down there. You're going to die."

There were three doors. One door was cracked ajar and I aimed my gun at the door as my foot tapped the door open.

Okay, this part may scare little survivors out there. Read with caution.

I'm not kidding when I say a horror movie just came true. There's a small girl wearing a grey dress, crouched over what had to be an older woman. Maybe her mother. The small girl was eating her mother's intestines, and guts. She gnawed on bones too.

Her bloody finger nails were long and gnarled. Her back was to me.

"Hello?" I say.

The little girl freezes, then turns around slowly. Ohmigosh. Her face was rotten and half of it had fallen off. Her eyes were white, her mouth was smeared with blood and her teeth were sharp and red with blood.

"Hisssssssss....ssssss." The girl spits.

"Nice to meet you too." I say before shooting the corpse.

By midnight I bring back three rolls of untouched toilet paper. Nick is fast asleep and his bandages are disgusting. They're red with fresh blood.

I don't rewrap it. I just can't do it right after shooting that small girl.

Love,

Riley