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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by MissOptimistic

Escape from Suburbia, Only the Beginning.

This day went by so fast yet time felt so slow. I never even got a chance to say goodbye. Awaken by screams and gunshots, I wondered who's watching tv so loudly downstairs. I look around my room and I'm alone. Straight out of bed I walk down the stairs and immediately notice that the front door was open and nobody was watching tv. No sign of my dog, my siblings or parents. Why was I alone? Then I remembered, we don't own any guns. At that sudden realization I raced to the door and slammed it shut, locking every lock as fast as I could. I don't know why I had a wave a panic rush over me but it was for good reason. Someone was in our house, I couldn't hear or see anyone but I just had this terrible feeling that I wasn't truly alone. Gunshots started blaring again from outside our front windows and I immediately ran into my parents room to get away from the ear splitting noise. This is NOT real. Then I heard a shuffling noise as if someone was dragging themselves along. It came from their bathroom. I was hit with a sudden dilemma. Do I check the door or run..? This whole experience could be nothing. Maybe I was just over reacting, but I wasn't because someone came through the door before I even contemplated opening it. The first thing I noticed was the smell of fresh blood.. it seemed like a normal person but then they turned around.. IT'S eyes were just blank. It's eyes was just dead. When it looked at me, I knew no one was really looking back. I instantly bolted for the only exit in the room but I could already feel its presence inches behind me. I ran to the front door, quick to undo the locks I had done before. Whatever was in the house was coming for me. I opened the door in a matter of seconds and turned around to see that it was gone. I didn't want to take my chances in the house so I walked out. That's when reality hit me. This IS REAL. The screams were clearer now that I was out in the open. Bodies littered the streets, some were only half a body, others were covered in blood yet still moving some how. Other front doors were left open here and there and a car whizzed past me. It hit one of the those bloody people things  but it just got back up as the car sped away. That's when I got the idea "GET YOUR KEYS". Back inside the house I saw the dead thing... umm we will call them "Roamers" because they just roam around with no soul purpose. "To Roam" just means wandering aimlessly around and they just seem empty. The Roamer was in our kitchen now, I could see it through the window. Blocking out the random bursts of screams and cries I tried my best to concentrate on a plan. I don't really know what that thing is but will it follow a sound..? I looked around to find a pine cone. I picked up the biggest one I could find and quietly tried to open my door. As slowly as I could I pushed the door open, careful to keep all sound minimal. Once I got enough room to let my arm in, I threw the pine cone as hard as I could down the front hall. The roamer heard it and turned towards its direction. I slowly opened the door just a little more but then it turned back to the kitchen. I froze... I need to find a rock. The pine cone wasn't loud enough. We had a couple pebbles lying around so I figured if I threw enough of them it would spark the Roamers interest. I had about 5 so the first one I through hit the door at the end of the hall. It stopped what it was doing and turned towards the door where the rock had landed. I crept into the house keeping low and made sure to make quiet footsteps. As he walked closer to the door I walked closer to the kitchen. Once In the kitchen I threw my 4th rock into the living room towards the fire place. The roamer stopped for a second but just froze. So I threw my 3rd even harder and it actually hit the fire place. The roamer began walking at a very fast pace towards the fireplace and once it got half way into the living room I grabbed my keys and made a run for it. Half way out the door, my head was immediately pulled back and I fell onto the floor. The Roamer OPENED IT'S MOUTH!! LIKE THIS THING WANTED TO EAT ME!! When it's mouth got close enough I kicked the Roamer in the face as hard as I could and it flew backwards and fell; I darted up and headed for the door again. As soon as I thought I had made it safe the roamer had grabbed my ankle, and I saw three more coming down the street with blood dripping down their mouths. FULL PANIC MODE! I instantly start frantically kicking at the Roamer to let go of my ankle! "LET GO!!" My words were useless, they clearly don't understand and I never heard any of them speak a word! At some point I finally got free only to instantly fall on my face again and dropping my keys. Not only was the 3 pack of roamers heading my way but I had another currently clawing at my feet. Scrambling around I picked up my keys and clumsily ran to my car. Why was unlocking the door so hard right now?! My hands were shaking and now the roamer who grabbed me before was up on its feet and started running. OH MY GOD THEY CAN RUN?! Literally before facing certain death I jumped in my car and shut the door right before roamer #1 got to me. The pack of 3 just reached my car and I then remembered. "DRIVE!!!" I started my car up and without even looking, backed up and hit the 3 pack, then my tires screeched forward as I pressed the gas pedal down to the floor. I was out of the neighbor hood. I began to realize that I hadn't checked all the rooms in my house. Was I really alone? None of the traffic lights seemed to be working right and cars were just driving to evade and escape. More blooded corpses spotted the roads and more roamers were just wandering or running around. Some of them were chasing cars, OH MY GOD THEY WERE CHASING ME! I don't know how long I drove for but I was sure out of the city by now. The longer I drove out of the city, the more empty the roads were and the less people I saw. It was almost 5pm now and daylight was slipping away from me. I NEEDED the daylight. The darkness of night feared me the most. What was in the darkness waiting? Could roamers see in the dark??? I don't know how I will be able to sleep tonight or what I will even do for food. But I won't give in, it's only been day one and I have people to find.

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by MissOptimistic
Escape from Suburbia, Only the Beginning.
This day went by so fast yet time felt so slow. I never even got a chance to say goodbye. Awaken by screams and gunshots, I wondered who's watching tv so loudly downstairs. I look around my room and I'm alone. Straight out of bed I walk down the stairs and immediately notice that the front door was open and nobody was watching tv. No sign of my dog, my siblings or parents. Why was I alone? Then I remembered, we don't own any guns. At that sudden realization I raced to the door and slammed it shut, locking every lock as fast as I could. I don't know why I had a wave a panic rush over me but it was for good reason. Someone was in our house, I couldn't hear or see anyone but I just had this terrible feeling that I wasn't truly alone. Gunshots started blaring again from outside our front windows and I immediately ran into my parents room to get away from the ear splitting noise. This is NOT real. Then I heard a shuffling noise as if someone was dragging themselves along. It came from their bathroom. I was hit with a sudden dilemma. Do I check the door or run..? This whole experience could be nothing. Maybe I was just over reacting, but I wasn't because someone came through the door before I even contemplated opening it. The first thing I noticed was the smell of fresh blood.. it seemed like a normal person but then they turned around.. IT'S eyes were just blank. It's eyes was just dead. When it looked at me, I knew no one was really looking back. I instantly bolted for the only exit in the room but I could already feel its presence inches behind me. I ran to the front door, quick to undo the locks I had done before. Whatever was in the house was coming for me. I opened the door in a matter of seconds and turned around to see that it was gone. I didn't want to take my chances in the house so I walked out. That's when reality hit me. This IS REAL. The screams were clearer now that I was out in the open. Bodies littered the streets, some were only half a body, others were covered in blood yet still moving some how. Other front doors were left open here and there and a car whizzed past me. It hit one of the those bloody people things  but it just got back up as the car sped away. That's when I got the idea "GET YOUR KEYS". Back inside the house I saw the dead thing... umm we will call them "Roamers" because they just roam around with no soul purpose. "To Roam" just means wandering aimlessly around and they just seem empty. The Roamer was in our kitchen now, I could see it through the window. Blocking out the random bursts of screams and cries I tried my best to concentrate on a plan. I don't really know what that thing is but will it follow a sound..? I looked around to find a pine cone. I picked up the biggest one I could find and quietly tried to open my door. As slowly as I could I pushed the door open, careful to keep all sound minimal. Once I got enough room to let my arm in, I threw the pine cone as hard as I could down the front hall. The roamer heard it and turned towards its direction. I slowly opened the door just a little more but then it turned back to the kitchen. I froze... I need to find a rock. The pine cone wasn't loud enough. We had a couple pebbles lying around so I figured if I threw enough of them it would spark the Roamers interest. I had about 5 so the first one I through hit the door at the end of the hall. It stopped what it was doing and turned towards the door where the rock had landed. I crept into the house keeping low and made sure to make quiet footsteps. As he walked closer to the door I walked closer to the kitchen. Once In the kitchen I threw my 4th rock into the living room towards the fire place. The roamer stopped for a second but just froze. So I threw my 3rd even harder and it actually hit the fire place. The roamer began walking at a very fast pace towards the fireplace and once it got half way into the living room I grabbed my keys and made a run for it. Half way out the door, my head was immediately pulled back and I fell onto the floor. The Roamer OPENED IT'S MOUTH!! LIKE THIS THING WANTED TO EAT ME!! When it's mouth got close enough I kicked the Roamer in the face as hard as I could and it flew backwards and fell; I darted up and headed for the door again. As soon as I thought I had made it safe the roamer had grabbed my ankle, and I saw three more coming down the street with blood dripping down their mouths. FULL PANIC MODE! I instantly start frantically kicking at the Roamer to let go of my ankle! "LET GO!!" My words were useless, they clearly don't understand and I never heard any of them speak a word! At some point I finally got free only to instantly fall on my face again and dropping my keys. Not only was the 3 pack of roamers heading my way but I had another currently clawing at my feet. Scrambling around I picked up my keys and clumsily ran to my car. Why was unlocking the door so hard right now?! My hands were shaking and now the roamer who grabbed me before was up on its feet and started running. OH MY GOD THEY CAN RUN?! Literally before facing certain death I jumped in my car and shut the door right before roamer #1 got to me. The pack of 3 just reached my car and I then remembered. "DRIVE!!!" I started my car up and without even looking, backed up and hit the 3 pack, then my tires screeched forward as I pressed the gas pedal down to the floor. I was out of the neighbor hood. I began to realize that I hadn't checked all the rooms in my house. Was I really alone? None of the traffic lights seemed to be working right and cars were just driving to evade and escape. More blooded corpses spotted the roads and more roamers were just wandering or running around. Some of them were chasing cars, OH MY GOD THEY WERE CHASING ME! I don't know how long I drove for but I was sure out of the city by now. The longer I drove out of the city, the more empty the roads were and the less people I saw. It was almost 5pm now and daylight was slipping away from me. I NEEDED the daylight. The darkness of night feared me the most. What was in the darkness waiting? Could roamers see in the dark??? I don't know how I will be able to sleep tonight or what I will even do for food. But I won't give in, it's only been day one and I have people to find.
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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by dLYNX

Zombified

Journal entry:

Well, it's here, just like I warned everyone. I guess they probably feel stupid for doubting me now. At least I was prepared. My underground bunker stocked full. Enough to last at least 6 months.

Too bad I won't use any of it. See, I walked outside to get the paper, figuring I would still be getting one, and Mrs Maylo from next door crashed through the shrubbery dividing our yards and sure as hell bit me before I was able to bash her skull in with my bat. I'm not stupid enough to go out unarmed, after all. I just didn't expect to be ambushed by the sweet lady from next door.

So.. I'm done for. One of them. A zombie. I figure I'm gonna make the most of it, though. I don't need any of my supplies so, while my wits are about me still, I went ahead and turned my safe haven, my bunker, over to a family who just moved in down the street. They didn't stand a chance without it. Besides, if worse comes to worse later on, I know where a whole family of fresh humans is bunkered up and would open the door only for me.

I don't have much of a game plan. Hunger hasn't set in yet. I figure I'll just go ahead and stay put until I get so hungry I have no choice but to go out and find food.

It's not so bad. Can't beat em join em, right? Who knew I'd get bit on the first official day. I don't usually keep a journal, but I figured someone will want to read about this later. What it's like to go from human to zombie. The zombies perspective.

I'll be writing my experiences as they happen until I cant anymore. Once my brain turns to complete mush and I'm just a dead corpse running around eating every living being I find, I figure I won't have any more time for writing. Too busy gnawing on some poor chaps femur. Turns the stomach right now, but hey.. give it a day or two, right?

I'm looking outside my front window and there's a whole mess of them making their way down my street. I should take a few out while I'm still thinking clearly...

Nah. They're my own kind now. May as well embrace it... Hold on a sec...

Alright, just went out and talked to a couple of them. Ones that still had working vocal cords. Didn't get much information other than they are hungry as shit. Yeah. That's all they wanted to talk about. Where is the food? Any fresh meat around here? Typical zombies. Sometimes I question my own race, let me tell you. I feel like an alien, you know?

Well, I'm starting to feel it now. Getting really hungry and nothing in my fridge sounds good, if you know what I mean. I'm going out to hunt, so I'll catch up later on and tell about it...

Later:

Well, that just beats it all. I just got back home and let me tell you, it's madness out there. I nearly got my head blasted off by a human. I'm still hungry, although I was able to find someone else's left overs. It tasted pretty damned good, but I want more.

I've got to keep my head for as long as I can and I've been going through the medicine I've had stocked away. I'm going to try some different concoctions and see if I can't stave off brain rot. At least for awhile. I'm sure it will happen, but I'd like to have the ability to think clearly for as long as possible. I'm heading back out. Maybe this time I'll catch me a live one. The thought makes my mouth water. Can you believe that? Mmm.. warm flesh. Yeah, I'll be back. I hope.

Later:

What a feast! It was easy as 1, 2, 3! I just snatched me up a girl who stepped out of her car because she couldn't go any farther. She screamed and thrashed, but no real strength, you know? Wow, it was satisfying, let me just tell you! Her warm innards sliding.. hell you don't want me to go into all that.

I've got some meds that I think will work. Keep my brain fresh. I'm just resting now before I head out again. I'll write more tomorrow.

Ghhdftjh hi JJ HCC f HK kh JH fdhjkkkbvxcbj b hhj. Gnn

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by dLYNX
Zombified
Journal entry:
Well, it's here, just like I warned everyone. I guess they probably feel stupid for doubting me now. At least I was prepared. My underground bunker stocked full. Enough to last at least 6 months.
Too bad I won't use any of it. See, I walked outside to get the paper, figuring I would still be getting one, and Mrs Maylo from next door crashed through the shrubbery dividing our yards and sure as hell bit me before I was able to bash her skull in with my bat. I'm not stupid enough to go out unarmed, after all. I just didn't expect to be ambushed by the sweet lady from next door.
So.. I'm done for. One of them. A zombie. I figure I'm gonna make the most of it, though. I don't need any of my supplies so, while my wits are about me still, I went ahead and turned my safe haven, my bunker, over to a family who just moved in down the street. They didn't stand a chance without it. Besides, if worse comes to worse later on, I know where a whole family of fresh humans is bunkered up and would open the door only for me.
I don't have much of a game plan. Hunger hasn't set in yet. I figure I'll just go ahead and stay put until I get so hungry I have no choice but to go out and find food.
It's not so bad. Can't beat em join em, right? Who knew I'd get bit on the first official day. I don't usually keep a journal, but I figured someone will want to read about this later. What it's like to go from human to zombie. The zombies perspective.
I'll be writing my experiences as they happen until I cant anymore. Once my brain turns to complete mush and I'm just a dead corpse running around eating every living being I find, I figure I won't have any more time for writing. Too busy gnawing on some poor chaps femur. Turns the stomach right now, but hey.. give it a day or two, right?
I'm looking outside my front window and there's a whole mess of them making their way down my street. I should take a few out while I'm still thinking clearly...
Nah. They're my own kind now. May as well embrace it... Hold on a sec...
Alright, just went out and talked to a couple of them. Ones that still had working vocal cords. Didn't get much information other than they are hungry as shit. Yeah. That's all they wanted to talk about. Where is the food? Any fresh meat around here? Typical zombies. Sometimes I question my own race, let me tell you. I feel like an alien, you know?
Well, I'm starting to feel it now. Getting really hungry and nothing in my fridge sounds good, if you know what I mean. I'm going out to hunt, so I'll catch up later on and tell about it...
Later:
Well, that just beats it all. I just got back home and let me tell you, it's madness out there. I nearly got my head blasted off by a human. I'm still hungry, although I was able to find someone else's left overs. It tasted pretty damned good, but I want more.
I've got to keep my head for as long as I can and I've been going through the medicine I've had stocked away. I'm going to try some different concoctions and see if I can't stave off brain rot. At least for awhile. I'm sure it will happen, but I'd like to have the ability to think clearly for as long as possible. I'm heading back out. Maybe this time I'll catch me a live one. The thought makes my mouth water. Can you believe that? Mmm.. warm flesh. Yeah, I'll be back. I hope.
Later:
What a feast! It was easy as 1, 2, 3! I just snatched me up a girl who stepped out of her car because she couldn't go any farther. She screamed and thrashed, but no real strength, you know? Wow, it was satisfying, let me just tell you! Her warm innards sliding.. hell you don't want me to go into all that.
I've got some meds that I think will work. Keep my brain fresh. I'm just resting now before I head out again. I'll write more tomorrow.
Ghhdftjh hi JJ HCC f HK kh JH fdhjkkkbvxcbj b hhj. Gnn
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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by RandiHaugen

Sea Water

I’m sitting by the kitchen table like it’s an ordinary evening. I’m in jeans and a flannel, with a heavy knitted jacket on top, to keep warm. Insignificant details, maybe, but something about the world as I know it crumbling, makes me notice the most ordinary things. The crumbs on the tablecloth. My cracked nailpolish. I wonder if the people did the same, about a hundred years ago, when it was announced on the radio that the Second World War had begun. If you were a mother with an almost grown son and some other children, not yet teenagers, wouldn’t you go in the nursery and look at it all, feeling like you entered a cabin in a sinking ship?

But I am no mother. I have parents – they both work in the city.

I had to take a break. I kept staring at the last sentence I wrote and it felt so surreal that I’m writing down things like this, that I almost scratched it all out. But, I will continue. I am the sort of person who don’t really know what I am thinking until I put pen to paper. And my mind, right now, is like a ball of yarn in the paws of a feral cat. Tangled beyond untangling, it feels like.

As I said, my parents work ... worked in the city. That’s about forty minutes away from where we live, with a car, thirty by train. We live more on the country. There are trees, here, actual trees. And I suppose the trees will last. They will take over. It’s strange, but I can write that quite without feeling emotional. It’s much too strange to take in the meaning of these words. That the black death of this age, so aptly named “zombie sickness”, should reach this land, despite the ferocious airport controls and all that.

We will all die.

Four utterly strange words. Here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, with a cup of tea made from water I managed to boil by making a fire in the fireplace. Though I’ve grown up here I’ve never done it before, and I cried twice before the fire really caught on. It’s a terrifying idea that I might freeze to death next to a pile of firewood because I’m that darn incompetent. But maybe that would be a preferable way to go?

Anyway. As of yet I still have tea. Still got food. There’s a lot of rice in the cupboards too, and snow outside that I can melt into water now that it’s all been shut off. Again, I don’t know why I am writing all of this down, except to calm myself.

Okay, another break. Tears filled my eyes just now, so I couldn’t see what I was writing. Suddenly I was thinking about my parents, turning into zombies. I’ve seen the news, even though my mother tried to stop me. I remember I argued that she shouldn’t want her daughter to be ignorant, and that my father, despite everything, chuckled at the scene. He loves … loved? the fire in me. Anyway, I saw the clips from other continents, which were filmed first by reporters with cameras, but soon they too died, and surveillance cameras were all that was left. I remember the panic that filled the air, crackling like electricity, those few weeks, as the government tried to keep everyone calm but everyone already knew – the apocalypse is coming.

Now it’s here. My mother called me from work. She always was as cool and rational as I am fiery and emotional. Her voice quite serious and calm, she told me, “It’s here.” I cried and begged her to come home, but she reminded me of what I had already seen on the TV: the trains all stood still, and the roads and bridges were closed. Nobody was going to leave. Even the government has stopped pretending. No one said: “You’re all staying till this is under control.” The city was doomed. Is doomed.

My mother and father probably no longer remember who they are. They probably don't even recognize each other. The horrible transformation happens very quickly. Let me try to write it, to see if I can bear it: I am an orphan now.

I am home and the dark has fallen. A cup of tea helps whatever childlike innocence is still left in me pretend that this is all a bad dream. But really, I am like the mother in the nursery. The room is filling up with sea water. Soon everything will be gone.

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by RandiHaugen
Sea Water
I’m sitting by the kitchen table like it’s an ordinary evening. I’m in jeans and a flannel, with a heavy knitted jacket on top, to keep warm. Insignificant details, maybe, but something about the world as I know it crumbling, makes me notice the most ordinary things. The crumbs on the tablecloth. My cracked nailpolish. I wonder if the people did the same, about a hundred years ago, when it was announced on the radio that the Second World War had begun. If you were a mother with an almost grown son and some other children, not yet teenagers, wouldn’t you go in the nursery and look at it all, feeling like you entered a cabin in a sinking ship?

But I am no mother. I have parents – they both work in the city.

I had to take a break. I kept staring at the last sentence I wrote and it felt so surreal that I’m writing down things like this, that I almost scratched it all out. But, I will continue. I am the sort of person who don’t really know what I am thinking until I put pen to paper. And my mind, right now, is like a ball of yarn in the paws of a feral cat. Tangled beyond untangling, it feels like.

As I said, my parents work ... worked in the city. That’s about forty minutes away from where we live, with a car, thirty by train. We live more on the country. There are trees, here, actual trees. And I suppose the trees will last. They will take over. It’s strange, but I can write that quite without feeling emotional. It’s much too strange to take in the meaning of these words. That the black death of this age, so aptly named “zombie sickness”, should reach this land, despite the ferocious airport controls and all that.

We will all die.

Four utterly strange words. Here I am, sitting at the kitchen table, with a cup of tea made from water I managed to boil by making a fire in the fireplace. Though I’ve grown up here I’ve never done it before, and I cried twice before the fire really caught on. It’s a terrifying idea that I might freeze to death next to a pile of firewood because I’m that darn incompetent. But maybe that would be a preferable way to go?

Anyway. As of yet I still have tea. Still got food. There’s a lot of rice in the cupboards too, and snow outside that I can melt into water now that it’s all been shut off. Again, I don’t know why I am writing all of this down, except to calm myself.

Okay, another break. Tears filled my eyes just now, so I couldn’t see what I was writing. Suddenly I was thinking about my parents, turning into zombies. I’ve seen the news, even though my mother tried to stop me. I remember I argued that she shouldn’t want her daughter to be ignorant, and that my father, despite everything, chuckled at the scene. He loves … loved? the fire in me. Anyway, I saw the clips from other continents, which were filmed first by reporters with cameras, but soon they too died, and surveillance cameras were all that was left. I remember the panic that filled the air, crackling like electricity, those few weeks, as the government tried to keep everyone calm but everyone already knew – the apocalypse is coming.

Now it’s here. My mother called me from work. She always was as cool and rational as I am fiery and emotional. Her voice quite serious and calm, she told me, “It’s here.” I cried and begged her to come home, but she reminded me of what I had already seen on the TV: the trains all stood still, and the roads and bridges were closed. Nobody was going to leave. Even the government has stopped pretending. No one said: “You’re all staying till this is under control.” The city was doomed. Is doomed.

My mother and father probably no longer remember who they are. They probably don't even recognize each other. The horrible transformation happens very quickly. Let me try to write it, to see if I can bear it: I am an orphan now.

I am home and the dark has fallen. A cup of tea helps whatever childlike innocence is still left in me pretend that this is all a bad dream. But really, I am like the mother in the nursery. The room is filling up with sea water. Soon everything will be gone.
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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by Prosewriter

Day 300

Writing is the only thing keeping my sanity intact. It has been three weeks since I've seen Teresa and Harper. That means they were either eaten or left me for dead. Great. For who ever is reading this I wish you good luck in this unforgiving world; also a can of peaches is in my bag. Look you have to do whatever it takes to survive, I know it sounds like i'm giving up and that's because I am.  But you need to survive. That's all the world is ever doing surviving. Now go and survive, spread my name. I guess you don't know my name though. Well my name is Hope. 

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by Prosewriter
Day 300
Writing is the only thing keeping my sanity intact. It has been three weeks since I've seen Teresa and Harper. That means they were either eaten or left me for dead. Great. For who ever is reading this I wish you good luck in this unforgiving world; also a can of peaches is in my bag. Look you have to do whatever it takes to survive, I know it sounds like i'm giving up and that's because I am.  But you need to survive. That's all the world is ever doing surviving. Now go and survive, spread my name. I guess you don't know my name though. Well my name is Hope. 


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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by Vibha

Table Tragedy

Dad was right. Glass top tables are of no use to writers. 

His wisdom saves me for a few more moments as I hide under the ebony writing table he made for me. I remember we did the finishing together. He smoothed the edges and taught me how to polish the dark wood. I was seventeen.

"The table will attract you to itself. Ebony when polished feels like a beautiful maiden's mane. Imagine the amount of poetry that flows from it." he said.

The writing table has no drawers, only a big cabinet. 

It is the first thing that came into my mind as a hiding place. The end was near everyone knew it when the first disappearance happened. Yet they were in denial. 

Ultimately they have come for us. 

Mother says it is my imagination. I used to hide in dark corners when I was a child. Dad knew it wasn't. Why else would he create a hollow cabinet big enough to hide a man in this table? Like me he knew they were coming. 

I have been ready for years. I stored provisions in the cabinet for a time like this. Apocalypse is not for me. I am prepared. 

They are somewhere near. I can smell the stench of burnt flesh. That is how they smell. I am trying to look through the keyhole. Even a glimpse of the burnt, pus ridden skin is repulsive. I can hear mother screaming. 

I can't close my ears. I can barely move. Her scream is deafening. 

I don't know how long I have to stay inside this cabinet. Ebony wood smells different. I hope it camouflages my body odour. I don't know if Zombies can smell.

It is silent now. 

So quiet that I can hear the sound of the nib scribbling on paper. 

The stench is getting stronger. They can hear it too! 

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by Vibha
Table Tragedy
Dad was right. Glass top tables are of no use to writers. 

His wisdom saves me for a few more moments as I hide under the ebony writing table he made for me. I remember we did the finishing together. He smoothed the edges and taught me how to polish the dark wood. I was seventeen.
"The table will attract you to itself. Ebony when polished feels like a beautiful maiden's mane. Imagine the amount of poetry that flows from it." he said.

The writing table has no drawers, only a big cabinet. 

It is the first thing that came into my mind as a hiding place. The end was near everyone knew it when the first disappearance happened. Yet they were in denial. 

Ultimately they have come for us. 

Mother says it is my imagination. I used to hide in dark corners when I was a child. Dad knew it wasn't. Why else would he create a hollow cabinet big enough to hide a man in this table? Like me he knew they were coming. 

I have been ready for years. I stored provisions in the cabinet for a time like this. Apocalypse is not for me. I am prepared. 

They are somewhere near. I can smell the stench of burnt flesh. That is how they smell. I am trying to look through the keyhole. Even a glimpse of the burnt, pus ridden skin is repulsive. I can hear mother screaming. 

I can't close my ears. I can barely move. Her scream is deafening. 

I don't know how long I have to stay inside this cabinet. Ebony wood smells different. I hope it camouflages my body odour. I don't know if Zombies can smell.

It is silent now. 

So quiet that I can hear the sound of the nib scribbling on paper. 

The stench is getting stronger. They can hear it too! 




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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by AnnieMiller893

Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Trying to find a job is a bitch.

Dear Diary,

I’ve found a new job opportunity at a new restaurant in town it’s a beautiful place and the pay is decent! I've got a call, I’ll get back to you later on more details.

SO EXCITED!!!

Shit's hit the fan Diary,

It doesn’t help to be scared. But If you say you’re not you’re a fucking liar. I’m naming these things shadows because zombies are too light of a fucking meaning- The shadows are the only thing that aren’t scared because they can’t feel a damn thing. Just seeing them skitter around is enough to give nightmares and when you can’t move because you’re going to die if you do…

Sorry Diary I don’t like crying, especially on you. I know I’ve been crying a lot but I can’t help it. I want to stay alive but just being surrounded everyday and all you have is a fucking bat to protect yourself isn’t enough.

Dear Diary from God knows how long ago,

Just laying in water is bad enough, but in someone else's or my own blood, It’s funny to think I liked watching action movies a long time ago. Anyway I can't really move out or away from it if I wanted to, attention is the worst thing you need right now. and this is the best place I've been in a long time. Unlike back then, back when everything was complicated and you needed to be all pretty and shit to get meaningless things.

My eyes were clouded back then but now all I see is the painful truth now. The military trucks are abandoned and bullets laying everywhere. Embers floating overhead, smoke rising above into the heavens. I wish I was there. But I don’t want to die. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW ANYMORE! All I want to do now is just lay here. All I can do is try to stay alive.

For now.

Dear Diary,

I thought I could trust others. But now if I see them, I feel sick.

Diary,

I haven’t picked you up in so long that it wouldn’t matter telling you what i’ve been through. All I can say is that my right ear is gone and almost deaf in the other. I’ve been on the road for God knows how long, and all of my old and new friends are dead or Shadows now. That term is funny. But guess what, I found out something fucking interesting that I’ve-no, all of us have been FUCKING INFECTED. Before she died, some sort of biologist or rocket something; she said that this disease we have is in the water and because of rain it’s spread everywhere. I’m-

I’ve got to go.

Hey Diary, Here’s a joke- you’re not alive, and I’ll be the same soon. Badum t...

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by AnnieMiller893
Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
Trying to find a job is a bitch.


Dear Diary,
I’ve found a new job opportunity at a new restaurant in town it’s a beautiful place and the pay is decent! I've got a call, I’ll get back to you later on more details.
SO EXCITED!!!


Shit's hit the fan Diary,
It doesn’t help to be scared. But If you say you’re not you’re a fucking liar. I’m naming these things shadows because zombies are too light of a fucking meaning- The shadows are the only thing that aren’t scared because they can’t feel a damn thing. Just seeing them skitter around is enough to give nightmares and when you can’t move because you’re going to die if you do…
Sorry Diary I don’t like crying, especially on you. I know I’ve been crying a lot but I can’t help it. I want to stay alive but just being surrounded everyday and all you have is a fucking bat to protect yourself isn’t enough.


Dear Diary from God knows how long ago,
Just laying in water is bad enough, but in someone else's or my own blood, It’s funny to think I liked watching action movies a long time ago. Anyway I can't really move out or away from it if I wanted to, attention is the worst thing you need right now. and this is the best place I've been in a long time. Unlike back then, back when everything was complicated and you needed to be all pretty and shit to get meaningless things.
My eyes were clouded back then but now all I see is the painful truth now. The military trucks are abandoned and bullets laying everywhere. Embers floating overhead, smoke rising above into the heavens. I wish I was there. But I don’t want to die. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW ANYMORE! All I want to do now is just lay here. All I can do is try to stay alive.

For now.


Dear Diary,
I thought I could trust others. But now if I see them, I feel sick.


Diary,
I haven’t picked you up in so long that it wouldn’t matter telling you what i’ve been through. All I can say is that my right ear is gone and almost deaf in the other. I’ve been on the road for God knows how long, and all of my old and new friends are dead or Shadows now. That term is funny. But guess what, I found out something fucking interesting that I’ve-no, all of us have been FUCKING INFECTED. Before she died, some sort of biologist or rocket something; she said that this disease we have is in the water and because of rain it’s spread everywhere. I’m-

I’ve got to go.





Hey Diary, Here’s a joke- you’re not alive, and I’ll be the same soon. Badum t...
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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by wordsandshadows

If you're reading this, Eric...

I don't even know why I'm doing this. Habit, I guess. I've been keeping a diary since I was a little kid, and started keeping a blog years ago. It helps, I think, getting the words out onto paper... or a screen, in my case. God knows, this is a lot to cope with.

I wish I knew where you were.

I woke up this morning and you were already up. You'd pulled the suitcase out from the bottom of the closet and you were shoving things into it. Clothes, handfuls of underwear and socks, books, CDs, anything you could grab.

I remember I sat up in bed and I asked you what you were doing.

You looked up at me, and I remember how frantic you looked. You never look frantic. You're the calmest guy I know, with an answer for everything. I didn't know what was going on then, but that was the point when I realised it was something bad.

"Jake..." you started to say.

"Please don't tell me you're leaving me," I said. I know, I'm such a cliche. I was only half-joking.

"No," you said, "It's not that. We have to go. I'll explain later, but we need to go. Get dressed and pack what you need. Quickly, please."

The look in your eyes told me how serious you were. I got out of bed, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, and started packing things into my rucksack.  We both travel pretty light, so it didn't take long for us to get packed up. I followed you outside and there was an armored car sitting there.

A guy in military fatigues got out, saluted, and opened the door. I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but you looked at me and shook your head. You told me to get in the car, said you'd explain later. 

I trusted you. I got in the car with my rucksack and sat there rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The military guy put the suitcase in the back, and you sat in the car next to me. As we drove off, you reached out and took my hand, and you promised that you'd explain soon.

The car took us to an office building. There was a briefing, serious-faced men and women talking about rates of infection and contingency plans. I understood maybe half of what they said. 

I know now that they were talking about zombies. Like we live in some cheesy 80s horror movie... goddamn zombies. That's not the word they were using, it was something like partially reanimated deceased persons, but I'm a film studies major, I know zombies when I see them.

You left the safe-house three hours ago, saying that you were going to find Alex and you'd be back soon. An hour, you said. 

I wonder how long I should wait. I suppose eventually I'll need to leave too. Please come back soon.

I'll be waiting. You still owe me that explanation, after all.

I love you.

Jake.

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by wordsandshadows
If you're reading this, Eric...
I don't even know why I'm doing this. Habit, I guess. I've been keeping a diary since I was a little kid, and started keeping a blog years ago. It helps, I think, getting the words out onto paper... or a screen, in my case. God knows, this is a lot to cope with.

I wish I knew where you were.

I woke up this morning and you were already up. You'd pulled the suitcase out from the bottom of the closet and you were shoving things into it. Clothes, handfuls of underwear and socks, books, CDs, anything you could grab.

I remember I sat up in bed and I asked you what you were doing.

You looked up at me, and I remember how frantic you looked. You never look frantic. You're the calmest guy I know, with an answer for everything. I didn't know what was going on then, but that was the point when I realised it was something bad.

"Jake..." you started to say.

"Please don't tell me you're leaving me," I said. I know, I'm such a cliche. I was only half-joking.

"No," you said, "It's not that. We have to go. I'll explain later, but we need to go. Get dressed and pack what you need. Quickly, please."

The look in your eyes told me how serious you were. I got out of bed, pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, and started packing things into my rucksack.  We both travel pretty light, so it didn't take long for us to get packed up. I followed you outside and there was an armored car sitting there.

A guy in military fatigues got out, saluted, and opened the door. I wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but you looked at me and shook your head. You told me to get in the car, said you'd explain later. 

I trusted you. I got in the car with my rucksack and sat there rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The military guy put the suitcase in the back, and you sat in the car next to me. As we drove off, you reached out and took my hand, and you promised that you'd explain soon.

The car took us to an office building. There was a briefing, serious-faced men and women talking about rates of infection and contingency plans. I understood maybe half of what they said. 

I know now that they were talking about zombies. Like we live in some cheesy 80s horror movie... goddamn zombies. That's not the word they were using, it was something like partially reanimated deceased persons, but I'm a film studies major, I know zombies when I see them.

You left the safe-house three hours ago, saying that you were going to find Alex and you'd be back soon. An hour, you said. 

I wonder how long I should wait. I suppose eventually I'll need to leave too. Please come back soon.

I'll be waiting. You still owe me that explanation, after all.

I love you.
Jake.
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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by LeonaPetrovic

YAY zombies are here! (that was sarcasm)

Hi! No, scratch that.

The first day of a zombie apocalypse seems like a weird time to start a diary.

I've never really wanted to, but if I die...

No, I'm not dying.

Why do I always think the most negative thoughts?

I've already killed one (slammed it over the head with shovel) and then puked up my cereal.  They could be mistaken for humans from a distance. But their rotting stink can't be ignored if they're anywhere near you.

Gotta go, there's one in my neighbor's yard. What would mom say if she knew I'd turned into a zombie killer!

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by LeonaPetrovic
YAY zombies are here! (that was sarcasm)
Hi! No, scratch that.
The first day of a zombie apocalypse seems like a weird time to start a diary.
I've never really wanted to, but if I die...
No, I'm not dying.
Why do I always think the most negative thoughts?
I've already killed one (slammed it over the head with shovel) and then puked up my cereal.  They could be mistaken for humans from a distance. But their rotting stink can't be ignored if they're anywhere near you.
Gotta go, there's one in my neighbor's yard. What would mom say if she knew I'd turned into a zombie killer!

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by TheSecretWriter

Congratulations!

If you're actually reading this then con-fucking-grats!  You actually made it out of this alive.  I'm sure it won't be long until some pasty, skin-peeling, brain-eating bitch finds me down here.  Even if they don't, it won't be long until I'm out of food and water.  It's not like I can leave this dark, dank, rat infested cellar.  All the stores are already deserted-- damn, can you say mass hysteria?  All you idiots breaking in places for guns or ammo, what's the point?  We can't beat them if we don't know how it started.  If we can't put a stop to the cause, then shoot as many as you want, but more will keep coming.  It's inevitable.  So if you found this journal, why the fuck are you digging around an old cellar?!  If this is over when you find this then again I say: congratulations! You survived.  If not, then see you in hell.

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by TheSecretWriter
Congratulations!
If you're actually reading this then con-fucking-grats!  You actually made it out of this alive.  I'm sure it won't be long until some pasty, skin-peeling, brain-eating bitch finds me down here.  Even if they don't, it won't be long until I'm out of food and water.  It's not like I can leave this dark, dank, rat infested cellar.  All the stores are already deserted-- damn, can you say mass hysteria?  All you idiots breaking in places for guns or ammo, what's the point?  We can't beat them if we don't know how it started.  If we can't put a stop to the cause, then shoot as many as you want, but more will keep coming.  It's inevitable.  So if you found this journal, why the fuck are you digging around an old cellar?!  If this is over when you find this then again I say: congratulations! You survived.  If not, then see you in hell.
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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by HawkishUnderdog

foxhole god; still a God.

January 08, 2017

To: those left to understand these words,

The time has come, no more jokes, no more prophecies, the end is here. And I don’t know what else to do but write; I was told as a young child that was my purpose. I was told, like the authors of the bible/s, I will someday have something to say which would save lives. And so, I won’t write about my fear, and my children’s fear, what they look like and how we're surviving, but rather I’ll write about what I have been told and warned of over the last 37 years. I will write what they tell me to write, and I will share what they kindly give to me to share with you, the reader

“...write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it.” 

The spirits started telling me years ago it was time to start preparing for our departure. I first responded to these warnings by storing food and water, and even weapons, in secret from my husband. I was even baptized, so I thoroughly read the New Testament; out of respect, to avoid being completely ignorant, and let’s be honest, to speak intelligently when challenged (I've done my share of challenging believers). So, FYI to those that haven't actually read them—this shit that's going down right now—well, it's all outlined in those pages. And all we well-educated know-it-alls continually mocked it, too smart for it of course. We were all certain that God and the Bible/s were nonsense for the rednecks and brainwashed weaklings that needed a crutch to deal with life. And Hollywood makes a complete joke out of it, like a drug for the masses, Walking Dead was soaked up by those smarter than the powers of our maker/s. But, you know what I’ve learned on my journeys here on Earth? God gives you what you ask for, and often there is no changing your mind—and so viewers asked for it. “Ohh…that season wasn’t gory enough…please more zombies killing people.” Who’s laughing now? Game of Thrones nailed it with the White Walkers. The irony is there are dead-walking-people all around us, it’s just that not everyone can see them, feel them and hear them. But we all sense them, whether we admit to the reality of it or not. In every mirror there is a spirit looking back through you, at you. In every child there is a message you need to hear. All those teenagers and users at the dispensaries are well aware of them. And the military has known for decades, the government is behind the push and legalization in "First Colorado" and then California; all part of their attempt to weed out the weak-minded, for they quickly get labeled schizophrenic. Pun completely intended. 

I’m told the zombies are a visual of those that can no longer be contained in "hell." The more lives they take over to their side, the more power they have as a whole, and without power they have nothing, no hell to go back to and no earth to take over. I also am told that those that have a spiritual connection with their maker, be it God, Jesus, Buddha or the Sea Goddess Tara, are safe. You can be safe from an eternity on earth.

I asked about my children and they won’t respond. Spirits don’t answer questions, they give you questions to ask, and then provide the answers. It’s really a one-way communication. My great-grandparents were born in Budapest and came here over 100 years ago. I remember my great-grandmother use to sit in the basement for hours with a hard drink and have long conversations with the local priest. She didn't fit the guidelines of his beliefs, but she told him things he needed to know, things he couldn't get anywhere else. My grandparents built a house on their large piece of land here in California. The first one burned to the ground, so my grandmother built a brick house, and a bomb shelter. She told me when I was young this day would come. She said the dead would rise from behind the "curtain" and walk in plain sight among the living. They would talk and walk like humans, and then a day would come when their true nature would reveal itself. Her daughter, my grandmother, promised I had no reason to worry, that our "DNA" was a carefully designed code; that we come here with a purpose to fulfill. We come from a royal line on the other side. Royalty from where we come is not of earthly material riches, but royalty of peace, joy, love and happiness. We come from a smooth place with no loss, sadness or tears, a place which pulses with creativity and the many lights of our maker/s. Not everyone comes from where we were developed, but I'm promised, everyone can go back with us.

Science is great, but it doesn’t disprove God, and God doesn’t disprove science. God is a word in our language, but it does not come close to the truth of our maker/s. And so criticism is an easy out for many that need certainty; but the real issue is that science cannot explain what is not scientific. Just as science cannot explain the emotion one feels when they gaze at a painting, or hear a melody that takes them to another time and place. Science cannot and will not ever explain art, in the same way science cannot and will not ever explain existence.

We can only do our best with the information we are given, and each of us has our own set of data transmitted--received and sent. And so if you're reading this, if you've made it this far, it might mean you were meant to hear these words; maybe your maker, maybe the same as my God, brought you to this page, to these words. Take heed reader, I am told to write this for you; if you can feel it, if you can sense it, if you can't escape the nagging, then it’s time for you. But you'll have to give up your ego and self-righteousness, your pride and fear of being wrong. You'll have to set aside the conforming you've done to fit in this world and let your maker transform you, into you. Let your human programming be removed from your soul, let your reality be what you feel and what you are, not who and what you're told to be. 

If you ever want to leave this planet, now’s the time to completely give up your desire to fit in, and your need to be right. You will not know a spiritual connection if you are seeking fact and knowledge, or if you are mad at the idea of a God. But if you are seeking something which you do not know its core, if you are being pulled and you can't say what's connected to its end, your maker is seeking your attention. If you are seeking and you cannot find what draws you, if you fill your unknown desires with drink, or sex, or drugs, television or food, if you seek a purpose which has no name and only ends in disappointments, you are being called to; your maker is perfectly magnetized to only you. Just turn around dear. 

It’s simple to start, when you have fear, doubt or any emotion which takes over your thoughts, repeat this simple prayer: Just in case you’re out there "God," please show me the way, reveal your presence to me once again, for I ignored you before, but I will not ignore you now. I doubt, but that is because I do not remember your love for me. For someone special is known to have said: “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but the sinners.” It is not what our children do or don’t do that make us love them; we love them no matter what. And when they are weak we love them harder, we show them more of our love, so that they know and see their own worth.

Sometimes you have to allude to things in order to communicate its true meaning. The condition of intellect is a disease in the realm of spirits, spirituality, the universe and the God/s. Life is quite difficult when you think you understand it. 

Your connection will first come in emotions, which cannot be explained with man-made words, nor taught with insightful curriculum. Words just get in the way of emotions; but ask for it, pay attention to your environment, the words of others, and most importantly: your thoughts, and you will be found. Your thoughts which have no words hold the deepest of truths. Be warned reader: once you connect to your maker/s, you cannot disconnect. Once you ask for its love, it will show it until you fully receive it. 

You were meant for far more than you have, and far more than what you are, today; you were never made or meant to be an earthling for all of eternity. But Only You can know for certain.

It's not how long you believed, but that you believed at all.  --Wizard of Words

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It's record-breaking time. Together, we are going to break the world record for longest book. 100 word minimum. When this challenge gets 15,000 entries, it will expire, and we will turn it into a book. Each entry will be its own chapter. The plot? It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry. Each contributor should share this challenge prompt with as many people as possible. If we break the world record, this will be read by people for generations to come.
Written by HawkishUnderdog
foxhole god; still a God.
January 08, 2017
To: those left to understand these words,

The time has come, no more jokes, no more prophecies, the end is here. And I don’t know what else to do but write; I was told as a young child that was my purpose. I was told, like the authors of the bible/s, I will someday have something to say which would save lives. And so, I won’t write about my fear, and my children’s fear, what they look like and how we're surviving, but rather I’ll write about what I have been told and warned of over the last 37 years. I will write what they tell me to write, and I will share what they kindly give to me to share with you, the reader
“...write down the revelation and make it plain on tablets so that a herald may run with it.” 

The spirits started telling me years ago it was time to start preparing for our departure. I first responded to these warnings by storing food and water, and even weapons, in secret from my husband. I was even baptized, so I thoroughly read the New Testament; out of respect, to avoid being completely ignorant, and let’s be honest, to speak intelligently when challenged (I've done my share of challenging believers). So, FYI to those that haven't actually read them—this shit that's going down right now—well, it's all outlined in those pages. And all we well-educated know-it-alls continually mocked it, too smart for it of course. We were all certain that God and the Bible/s were nonsense for the rednecks and brainwashed weaklings that needed a crutch to deal with life. And Hollywood makes a complete joke out of it, like a drug for the masses, Walking Dead was soaked up by those smarter than the powers of our maker/s. But, you know what I’ve learned on my journeys here on Earth? God gives you what you ask for, and often there is no changing your mind—and so viewers asked for it. “Ohh…that season wasn’t gory enough…please more zombies killing people.” Who’s laughing now? Game of Thrones nailed it with the White Walkers. The irony is there are dead-walking-people all around us, it’s just that not everyone can see them, feel them and hear them. But we all sense them, whether we admit to the reality of it or not. In every mirror there is a spirit looking back through you, at you. In every child there is a message you need to hear. All those teenagers and users at the dispensaries are well aware of them. And the military has known for decades, the government is behind the push and legalization in "First Colorado" and then California; all part of their attempt to weed out the weak-minded, for they quickly get labeled schizophrenic. Pun completely intended. 

I’m told the zombies are a visual of those that can no longer be contained in "hell." The more lives they take over to their side, the more power they have as a whole, and without power they have nothing, no hell to go back to and no earth to take over. I also am told that those that have a spiritual connection with their maker, be it God, Jesus, Buddha or the Sea Goddess Tara, are safe. You can be safe from an eternity on earth.

I asked about my children and they won’t respond. Spirits don’t answer questions, they give you questions to ask, and then provide the answers. It’s really a one-way communication. My great-grandparents were born in Budapest and came here over 100 years ago. I remember my great-grandmother use to sit in the basement for hours with a hard drink and have long conversations with the local priest. She didn't fit the guidelines of his beliefs, but she told him things he needed to know, things he couldn't get anywhere else. My grandparents built a house on their large piece of land here in California. The first one burned to the ground, so my grandmother built a brick house, and a bomb shelter. She told me when I was young this day would come. She said the dead would rise from behind the "curtain" and walk in plain sight among the living. They would talk and walk like humans, and then a day would come when their true nature would reveal itself. Her daughter, my grandmother, promised I had no reason to worry, that our "DNA" was a carefully designed code; that we come here with a purpose to fulfill. We come from a royal line on the other side. Royalty from where we come is not of earthly material riches, but royalty of peace, joy, love and happiness. We come from a smooth place with no loss, sadness or tears, a place which pulses with creativity and the many lights of our maker/s. Not everyone comes from where we were developed, but I'm promised, everyone can go back with us.

Science is great, but it doesn’t disprove God, and God doesn’t disprove science. God is a word in our language, but it does not come close to the truth of our maker/s. And so criticism is an easy out for many that need certainty; but the real issue is that science cannot explain what is not scientific. Just as science cannot explain the emotion one feels when they gaze at a painting, or hear a melody that takes them to another time and place. Science cannot and will not ever explain art, in the same way science cannot and will not ever explain existence.

We can only do our best with the information we are given, and each of us has our own set of data transmitted--received and sent. And so if you're reading this, if you've made it this far, it might mean you were meant to hear these words; maybe your maker, maybe the same as my God, brought you to this page, to these words. Take heed reader, I am told to write this for you; if you can feel it, if you can sense it, if you can't escape the nagging, then it’s time for you. But you'll have to give up your ego and self-righteousness, your pride and fear of being wrong. You'll have to set aside the conforming you've done to fit in this world and let your maker transform you, into you. Let your human programming be removed from your soul, let your reality be what you feel and what you are, not who and what you're told to be. 

If you ever want to leave this planet, now’s the time to completely give up your desire to fit in, and your need to be right. You will not know a spiritual connection if you are seeking fact and knowledge, or if you are mad at the idea of a God. But if you are seeking something which you do not know its core, if you are being pulled and you can't say what's connected to its end, your maker is seeking your attention. If you are seeking and you cannot find what draws you, if you fill your unknown desires with drink, or sex, or drugs, television or food, if you seek a purpose which has no name and only ends in disappointments, you are being called to; your maker is perfectly magnetized to only you. Just turn around dear. 
It’s simple to start, when you have fear, doubt or any emotion which takes over your thoughts, repeat this simple prayer: Just in case you’re out there "God," please show me the way, reveal your presence to me once again, for I ignored you before, but I will not ignore you now. I doubt, but that is because I do not remember your love for me. For someone special is known to have said: “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but the sinners.” It is not what our children do or don’t do that make us love them; we love them no matter what. And when they are weak we love them harder, we show them more of our love, so that they know and see their own worth.

Sometimes you have to allude to things in order to communicate its true meaning. The condition of intellect is a disease in the realm of spirits, spirituality, the universe and the God/s. Life is quite difficult when you think you understand it. 

Your connection will first come in emotions, which cannot be explained with man-made words, nor taught with insightful curriculum. Words just get in the way of emotions; but ask for it, pay attention to your environment, the words of others, and most importantly: your thoughts, and you will be found. Your thoughts which have no words hold the deepest of truths. Be warned reader: once you connect to your maker/s, you cannot disconnect. Once you ask for its love, it will show it until you fully receive it. 
You were meant for far more than you have, and far more than what you are, today; you were never made or meant to be an earthling for all of eternity. But Only You can know for certain.

It's not how long you believed, but that you believed at all.  --Wizard of Words
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Juice
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