Sunday, June 3rd 9.29pm
Switched the TV on this morning to find all the channels had gone to emergency broadcast. Something's happening out there.
The power has gone; I'm sat by the window looking out into the dark abyss, the rain is pattering gently against the window. A fever has set in too, feeling awful.
My speech has begun to slur and I can't think or react quick anymore. I mean, this entry is a struggle to write. It's taken well over half an hour.
My urge for raw meat is still there... Bizarre. I'd rather starve than eat that, although my mouth waters at the thought.
I can't recognise myself in the mirror any more; my face is so gaunt, my eyes have sunken into my head. I look like I belong on the fucking Adams Family, like an anorexic Uncle Fester.
Given up hope on my arm, I can barely move it. No amount of meds seems to work. Doesn't hurt any more, which is at least a bit of respite. My veins have started to protrude an ugly blueish-black colour too. This is REALLY not good.
Reading this, you're probably thinking 'This chap is a bit calm, considering he's a rotten uncle fester look-a-like.' But I can assure you, I'm absolutely shitting myself.
Just had a knock at the door, it's Barbara. She's invited herself in, good job it's dark in here. Just the pallid glow of the laptop. I think if she saw me... Well, you know how women are.
She keeps going on about the end of the world and rioting in the streets; I made a move to comfort her, then remembered my current condition and thought better of it.
Haha! Imagine me putting my arm around her, only for it to fall off in her lap, all the pus and blood trickling down her face and over her lips.... She'd be mad. But when Life shits in your face you've got to laugh about it....
Or kill yourself.
YOU ARE READING
Deterioration - Chapter 1
HorrorA man has been bitten. This is his diary detailing his transformation from living to undead.
