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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 the necessary 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 ashleynichole12

The weather is terrible, that's for sure. There's no power, and we are almost out of wood in the basement.It's been freezing, and the roads are covered in ice. I think that these new weird, forgive me, zombies, are going to be the only things moving out on the street. A few of them have frozen to the ground, but then the skin tears off of their feet, until they have lost all of their skin and muscle and blood. It's like the grossest version of that scene in A Christmas Story that I have ever seen. I only want to vomit when I look at them, which is always, because this is like a nightmare that keeps going.I keep expecting them to get through the barricade, or just.......oh god, my asthma is acting up again.brb.....I wish there wasn't people I used to know out there. Now I have that stupid song stuck in my head. I really keep thinking I'm going to wake up or something.

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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 the necessary 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 ashleynichole12
The weather is terrible, that's for sure. There's no power, and we are almost out of wood in the basement.It's been freezing, and the roads are covered in ice. I think that these new weird, forgive me, zombies, are going to be the only things moving out on the street. A few of them have frozen to the ground, but then the skin tears off of their feet, until they have lost all of their skin and muscle and blood. It's like the grossest version of that scene in A Christmas Story that I have ever seen. I only want to vomit when I look at them, which is always, because this is like a nightmare that keeps going.I keep expecting them to get through the barricade, or just.......oh god, my asthma is acting up again.brb.....I wish there wasn't people I used to know out there. Now I have that stupid song stuck in my head. I really keep thinking I'm going to wake up or something.
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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 the necessary 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 AngelicaKidd

State of Emergency: Day One

That's what they're calling it anyways. At least, that's what the woman on the news said before the power went out. It's been a couple of hours since then. Thankfully it's still daylight outside...

We've been warned not to go outside. To board up our windows and doors and under no circumstances are we to leave our homes. It's been quiet out there though, even more quiet inside. I wonder how long before I start to get stir-crazy. I've never been very good at sitting still.

The woman on the news was talking about mutations. Some type of new, experimental drug that has gone wrong. I hardly keep up with the news and the happenings of the world so I have no idea what drug she's talking about. Apparently it was supposed to cure cancer but it has mutated the genes of the patients who have taken it. The woman on the news said the patients had appeared to have been getting better and that their cancerous cells had started to diminsh but then new cells started to replace them, cells that doctors couldn't identify. And then the changes started. Not just hair loss but skin loss, loss of motor skill functioning, extreme change in brain wave patterns. Things I don't understand because I am not a doctor nor a scientist. 

The news anchor woman hadn't said anything about any type of militia intervention. Isn't that what's supposed to happen in these states of emergencies? Isn't the military supposed to come in, guns blazing and put a stop to it? They're probably all too busy invading countries we have no business being in any longer. 

I wish I could say I have already called all of my loved ones and checked on them, inquired as to their safety and their whereabouts, alas, I am alone in the world. No parents, no husband, no children, no friends, not even a pet to keep me company. I can't say this disappoints me, I've always preferred solitude. But the silence is becoming thick. 

Was that a gunshot? Oh God, I think I heard a gunshot... I wish I had left a hole in between the boards on the window. I wish I had someone to call... What is happening out there??

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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 the necessary 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 AngelicaKidd
State of Emergency: Day One
That's what they're calling it anyways. At least, that's what the woman on the news said before the power went out. It's been a couple of hours since then. Thankfully it's still daylight outside...

We've been warned not to go outside. To board up our windows and doors and under no circumstances are we to leave our homes. It's been quiet out there though, even more quiet inside. I wonder how long before I start to get stir-crazy. I've never been very good at sitting still.

The woman on the news was talking about mutations. Some type of new, experimental drug that has gone wrong. I hardly keep up with the news and the happenings of the world so I have no idea what drug she's talking about. Apparently it was supposed to cure cancer but it has mutated the genes of the patients who have taken it. The woman on the news said the patients had appeared to have been getting better and that their cancerous cells had started to diminsh but then new cells started to replace them, cells that doctors couldn't identify. And then the changes started. Not just hair loss but skin loss, loss of motor skill functioning, extreme change in brain wave patterns. Things I don't understand because I am not a doctor nor a scientist. 

The news anchor woman hadn't said anything about any type of militia intervention. Isn't that what's supposed to happen in these states of emergencies? Isn't the military supposed to come in, guns blazing and put a stop to it? They're probably all too busy invading countries we have no business being in any longer. 

I wish I could say I have already called all of my loved ones and checked on them, inquired as to their safety and their whereabouts, alas, I am alone in the world. No parents, no husband, no children, no friends, not even a pet to keep me company. I can't say this disappoints me, I've always preferred solitude. But the silence is becoming thick. 

Was that a gunshot? Oh God, I think I heard a gunshot... I wish I had left a hole in between the boards on the window. I wish I had someone to call... What is happening out there??
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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 the necessary 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 dillonknuffke

Back There

I remember vividly what it was like when it started.  I was at the barbecue.  Can you believe there was a time where we had barbecues?  I can't even remember what a hamburger tastes like, let alone what it felt like to be in the company of other people instead of these empty vessels that walk the streets.  It's much darker now too.  I don't remember it being this dark back then.  It's funny.  When you're there, back there, you take everything for granted.  I wish, more than ever, that I could hold her again, that I could see her again.  I wish I could talk to her again.  That place is long gone and I'm all alone now.  Well, except for the thoughts residing within my mind.  This journal is the only means I have of communicating, even if it is false. 

Lemonade.  That's what I wanted today.  I craved it heavily.  Obviously, I didn't get any.  It's too dangerous out there.  I huddle here like I have something to lose by venturing out of this house, but what do I have left?  Only myself.  I'm losing my mind.  I stubbed my toe the other day and felt like killing myself.  That's not normal, but then again, what is?  Maybe I did something to deserve this.  Maybe I should've been nicer.  Maybe I'm being punished.  Or maybe I'm dead.  We'll find out in a matter of time. 

All I have left for any bit of consolation is a memory of better times.  Times where I could sleep at night.  Times where I loved.  Times where I could sink my teeth into a juicy hamburger whenever I pleased, and times where lemonade was in surplus and cravings were unheard of.

For now, I might as well try to get some sleep as long as you allow me to.

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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 the necessary 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 dillonknuffke
Back There
I remember vividly what it was like when it started.  I was at the barbecue.  Can you believe there was a time where we had barbecues?  I can't even remember what a hamburger tastes like, let alone what it felt like to be in the company of other people instead of these empty vessels that walk the streets.  It's much darker now too.  I don't remember it being this dark back then.  It's funny.  When you're there, back there, you take everything for granted.  I wish, more than ever, that I could hold her again, that I could see her again.  I wish I could talk to her again.  That place is long gone and I'm all alone now.  Well, except for the thoughts residing within my mind.  This journal is the only means I have of communicating, even if it is false. 
Lemonade.  That's what I wanted today.  I craved it heavily.  Obviously, I didn't get any.  It's too dangerous out there.  I huddle here like I have something to lose by venturing out of this house, but what do I have left?  Only myself.  I'm losing my mind.  I stubbed my toe the other day and felt like killing myself.  That's not normal, but then again, what is?  Maybe I did something to deserve this.  Maybe I should've been nicer.  Maybe I'm being punished.  Or maybe I'm dead.  We'll find out in a matter of time. 
All I have left for any bit of consolation is a memory of better times.  Times where I could sleep at night.  Times where I loved.  Times where I could sink my teeth into a juicy hamburger whenever I pleased, and times where lemonade was in surplus and cravings were unheard of.
For now, I might as well try to get some sleep as long as you allow me to.
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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 the necessary 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 EyesofArt

DyStoPia

Silence engulfs the city

Knocking down doors, running the streets

Dystopia all around and no one to hear our plea

Barely a whisper of a heartbeat 

Dead men roam through the chaos

Feeling the rubble beneath their feet

The wealthy barely understands loss

As they lie on the cold concrete

Code Red-growing with every breath

Code Black- seizing opportunity to derail

Code Silver- feeding the minds of false courage

Code Blue- maintaining the status quo

Hope is a distant star just flickering

Children hold on tight to bed time stories

Where dreams are just shimmering

Beyond the city’s territories

Men will forever fight

But their chains never break

Dust, dirt, and debris in every line of sight

Beneath their feet, the earth quakes.

Drops of love barely a whisper

A hint of remorse on the tip of their tongue

Regret only stays through winter

Hate is the only emotion that is sung

Ashes linger in the air

Blood spills for no rhyme or reason

Death never spares

A life in any season

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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 the necessary 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 EyesofArt
DyStoPia
Silence engulfs the city
Knocking down doors, running the streets
Dystopia all around and no one to hear our plea
Barely a whisper of a heartbeat 

Dead men roam through the chaos
Feeling the rubble beneath their feet
The wealthy barely understands loss
As they lie on the cold concrete

Code Red-growing with every breath
Code Black- seizing opportunity to derail
Code Silver- feeding the minds of false courage
Code Blue- maintaining the status quo

Hope is a distant star just flickering
Children hold on tight to bed time stories
Where dreams are just shimmering
Beyond the city’s territories

Men will forever fight
But their chains never break
Dust, dirt, and debris in every line of sight
Beneath their feet, the earth quakes.

Drops of love barely a whisper
A hint of remorse on the tip of their tongue
Regret only stays through winter
Hate is the only emotion that is sung

Ashes linger in the air
Blood spills for no rhyme or reason
Death never spares
A life in any season

#fantasy  #scifi  #fiction  #apocalypse  #zombies 
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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 the necessary 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 Phlenith

A Firsthand Account

     I always hoped something like this would happen: something terrible. I'd lay in bed, dreaming my parents would get into a car accident or something -- just so I'd have a reason to feel like shit (since I always do, but I have no reason to). Of course all the movies and books made it seem like when I did finally experience tragedy, I'd no longer chase it. But I love it.

     I adore it. I'm not sitting in a classroom, learning the conversational past of German. I'm not high off my ass watching Star Trek. I'm resting in the nest I've made in the back of my white van... and writing. 

     A day ago, a journal would have been ordinary, but now, when nobody will write, I am doing something beautiful. Maybe someday a million people will read this. Without a doubt, any firsthand account of the single most significant catastrophe in human history will be priceless... Well, in theory. In reality, a short excerpt of this journal may appear in a ten pound text book, and the majority of students will ignore it, knowing that it holds no immediate relevance to them.

     So maybe I would prefer that it does what I expect it to: it'll die when I do. Something unexpected will happen, I'll be stuck here in this van, and my journal and I will stay here indefinitely.

     This morning, I woke up in a soft bed to a bright, consistent sun and chirping birds, not a corpse in sight. I had planned an easy day hike.

     My backpack was already put together: an empty camel-back bag, an apple, and a green windbreaker. Before I left, I poured myself a large glass of lemonade. I do this for the sake of good health prior to any hike. I pressed the glass against my lips and the sweet lemonade ran down my throat; it's a beautiful sensation.

     My white van waited for me outside, and I took no more time getting there. I turned the keys in the ignition, and pulled into the center of my street. The trail I would be visiting today goes off a short dirt parking lot, not twenty miles away.

     The trail itself is wheelchair accessible. It runs along a gentle stream for approximately four and a half miles, laden with moss. In the spring, a variety of colorful flowers adorn the path. At the end of the trail lies a small (but nonetheless clean) lake. There are several beaches that children, photographers, and other friendly hikers can enjoy.

     But at the end of the trail, it was just me, submerging a bag, and watching the water fill it. (It's an old hobby of mine to treat the water back home and enjoy it when I can't reach nature, due to time restrictions or car problems or what-have-you.)

     In any case, I needed to pee, and I thought the area around the lake was a much more pleasant place to do so than the fallen porta potty I had seen in the dirt parking lot or near the moving corpses I had seen in the adjacent campground.

     As a rule, I try to go away from water sources. So I was on my way up a root-covered hill when I stumbled upon a little make-shift hut, constructed of old sticks and the like. I got on my hands and knees, and crawled inside. 

     It was the type of spot I really would have enjoyed, only a day sooner. A faded ornate rug covered the ground, and a bong sat in the center; there was probably a stash somewhere, but I had no intention of seeking it out. A little battery-powered boombox with a stack of discs was shoved in the far corner, and that was where my interest flew.

     The variety of the music excited me: classical, jazz, rock... Not knowing next time I'd get new music, I took the albums and put them in my pack. I hiked the four miles back, unsure where I could go beyond the white van. 

     When I got there, I took out the backseats and spread out my green windbreaker. (I'm using that as a blanket and my backpack as a pillow.) I didn't know what to do, so I went ahead and played the albums, one by one: first rock, then classical, and now, a sweet jazz standard about a willow and love and loneliness soothes me.

     The thing is, I've been playing on full volume for about four hours. Apparently, this has lit a flame of some sort. There's corpses banging against my windows. Luckily, I can't hear them; my music is too loud. 

     The one thing they do obstruct is my view of the night sky. I adore the night sky. But with them jerking around, the stars flash instead of glimmer.

     I guess I convinced myself that what I saw on the way to the trail -- the brand new but fallen porta potty, the corpses in the campground -- wasn't real. I decided it must be filming for some movie, or perhaps a glimpse my eyes simply misinterpreted. I guess I thought it was noncritical enough that I could get away with doing whatever I wanted to do - in this case blast piano solos. This conclusion makes sense: we see what we want to see.

     But it's possible that I wanted this. Maybe I knew exactly what was going on this whole time, and made a conscious decision to complete the tragedy I long for. I mean, I'm not at all surprised by the corpses at my window... It seems like something I would do.

     It's probably a combination of the two.

     I'm going to eat this apple, and I'm going to open that door. I don't know what they'll do to me, but I think I'll be fine: worst case scenario I die.

   

     

     

     

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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 the necessary 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 Phlenith
A Firsthand Account
     I always hoped something like this would happen: something terrible. I'd lay in bed, dreaming my parents would get into a car accident or something -- just so I'd have a reason to feel like shit (since I always do, but I have no reason to). Of course all the movies and books made it seem like when I did finally experience tragedy, I'd no longer chase it. But I love it.
     I adore it. I'm not sitting in a classroom, learning the conversational past of German. I'm not high off my ass watching Star Trek. I'm resting in the nest I've made in the back of my white van... and writing. 
     A day ago, a journal would have been ordinary, but now, when nobody will write, I am doing something beautiful. Maybe someday a million people will read this. Without a doubt, any firsthand account of the single most significant catastrophe in human history will be priceless... Well, in theory. In reality, a short excerpt of this journal may appear in a ten pound text book, and the majority of students will ignore it, knowing that it holds no immediate relevance to them.
     So maybe I would prefer that it does what I expect it to: it'll die when I do. Something unexpected will happen, I'll be stuck here in this van, and my journal and I will stay here indefinitely.

     This morning, I woke up in a soft bed to a bright, consistent sun and chirping birds, not a corpse in sight. I had planned an easy day hike.
     My backpack was already put together: an empty camel-back bag, an apple, and a green windbreaker. Before I left, I poured myself a large glass of lemonade. I do this for the sake of good health prior to any hike. I pressed the glass against my lips and the sweet lemonade ran down my throat; it's a beautiful sensation.
     My white van waited for me outside, and I took no more time getting there. I turned the keys in the ignition, and pulled into the center of my street. The trail I would be visiting today goes off a short dirt parking lot, not twenty miles away.
     The trail itself is wheelchair accessible. It runs along a gentle stream for approximately four and a half miles, laden with moss. In the spring, a variety of colorful flowers adorn the path. At the end of the trail lies a small (but nonetheless clean) lake. There are several beaches that children, photographers, and other friendly hikers can enjoy.

     But at the end of the trail, it was just me, submerging a bag, and watching the water fill it. (It's an old hobby of mine to treat the water back home and enjoy it when I can't reach nature, due to time restrictions or car problems or what-have-you.)
     In any case, I needed to pee, and I thought the area around the lake was a much more pleasant place to do so than the fallen porta potty I had seen in the dirt parking lot or near the moving corpses I had seen in the adjacent campground.
     As a rule, I try to go away from water sources. So I was on my way up a root-covered hill when I stumbled upon a little make-shift hut, constructed of old sticks and the like. I got on my hands and knees, and crawled inside. 
     It was the type of spot I really would have enjoyed, only a day sooner. A faded ornate rug covered the ground, and a bong sat in the center; there was probably a stash somewhere, but I had no intention of seeking it out. A little battery-powered boombox with a stack of discs was shoved in the far corner, and that was where my interest flew.
     The variety of the music excited me: classical, jazz, rock... Not knowing next time I'd get new music, I took the albums and put them in my pack. I hiked the four miles back, unsure where I could go beyond the white van. 
     When I got there, I took out the backseats and spread out my green windbreaker. (I'm using that as a blanket and my backpack as a pillow.) I didn't know what to do, so I went ahead and played the albums, one by one: first rock, then classical, and now, a sweet jazz standard about a willow and love and loneliness soothes me.

     The thing is, I've been playing on full volume for about four hours. Apparently, this has lit a flame of some sort. There's corpses banging against my windows. Luckily, I can't hear them; my music is too loud. 
     The one thing they do obstruct is my view of the night sky. I adore the night sky. But with them jerking around, the stars flash instead of glimmer.
     I guess I convinced myself that what I saw on the way to the trail -- the brand new but fallen porta potty, the corpses in the campground -- wasn't real. I decided it must be filming for some movie, or perhaps a glimpse my eyes simply misinterpreted. I guess I thought it was noncritical enough that I could get away with doing whatever I wanted to do - in this case blast piano solos. This conclusion makes sense: we see what we want to see.
     But it's possible that I wanted this. Maybe I knew exactly what was going on this whole time, and made a conscious decision to complete the tragedy I long for. I mean, I'm not at all surprised by the corpses at my window... It seems like something I would do.
     It's probably a combination of the two.

     I'm going to eat this apple, and I'm going to open that door. I don't know what they'll do to me, but I think I'll be fine: worst case scenario I die.
   
     
     
     
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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 the necessary 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 AngelineMejia

Seriously?

Dear Stranger,

The one day I decide to actually go out with friends the zombie apocalypse happens! You've got to be kidding me. All I wanted to do was have a good time with friends but noOooOO! I have to try and run for my life. I'm not even a good runner for god's sake, but I'm trying.

Hopefully, I can stay alive... but I picked a bad hiding spot so I'm screwed. I just got so tired of running. Anyways now I know I don't have much time to write this. So I'll give you the gist of what I want to say.

If you're reading this I'm dead, my name is Angeline, I'm 17 and I've never kissed a boy. Blah blah blah more stuff about me. Avenge me and all that good stuff.

I lived on

123 Washington Dr.

Boston, MA

The one old house with blue accents and the mismatched windowsills.

I'm guessing you're close to it if you're finding this note. Anyways I want you to see if it's okay. I don't know check to see if my family is alive or like if my plants are doing good. Oh, see if my cat is okay! Also, I have my lucky necklace placed directly on my desk. It's hard to miss.

I want you to have it. Whoever is reading this I need you to take the necklace. It's one of the few things that actually means a lot to me. I've worn it all my life, except today because I didn't want to lose it. It's funny, the one day I'm not wearing my lucky necklace is the day I'm going to die.

So please find it and carry it with you. Think of it as an heirloom. My grandma gave it to me so now I'm giving it to you. Hopefully, it brings you luck. If you decide to carry my necklace thank you, stranger. It truly means a lot to me.

Love,

Angeline

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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 the necessary 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 AngelineMejia
Seriously?
Dear Stranger,

The one day I decide to actually go out with friends the zombie apocalypse happens! You've got to be kidding me. All I wanted to do was have a good time with friends but noOooOO! I have to try and run for my life. I'm not even a good runner for god's sake, but I'm trying.

Hopefully, I can stay alive... but I picked a bad hiding spot so I'm screwed. I just got so tired of running. Anyways now I know I don't have much time to write this. So I'll give you the gist of what I want to say.

If you're reading this I'm dead, my name is Angeline, I'm 17 and I've never kissed a boy. Blah blah blah more stuff about me. Avenge me and all that good stuff.

I lived on
123 Washington Dr.
Boston, MA
The one old house with blue accents and the mismatched windowsills.

I'm guessing you're close to it if you're finding this note. Anyways I want you to see if it's okay. I don't know check to see if my family is alive or like if my plants are doing good. Oh, see if my cat is okay! Also, I have my lucky necklace placed directly on my desk. It's hard to miss.

I want you to have it. Whoever is reading this I need you to take the necklace. It's one of the few things that actually means a lot to me. I've worn it all my life, except today because I didn't want to lose it. It's funny, the one day I'm not wearing my lucky necklace is the day I'm going to die.

So please find it and carry it with you. Think of it as an heirloom. My grandma gave it to me so now I'm giving it to you. Hopefully, it brings you luck. If you decide to carry my necklace thank you, stranger. It truly means a lot to me.

Love,
Angeline
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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 the necessary 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 Carmarky

Night Shift

Diary,

My shift at the hospital ended at 2:30 am, and my last patient was not quite right--I've never seen anything like it. He was unconscious and his vitals were all over the place. One minute he had a fever, the next he was cold. I worked on him for about an hour, until another nurse relieved me. Right before he left, he woke with a start and scratched my arm, but we put him down with an extra dose of morphine. It looked like he had a bite mark on his leg, but the doctors ruled out any sort of rabies-type disease. Hope that man is okay. Heading to bed now, finally. I feel extra tired after this shift.

Linda

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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 the necessary 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 Carmarky
Night Shift
Diary,
My shift at the hospital ended at 2:30 am, and my last patient was not quite right--I've never seen anything like it. He was unconscious and his vitals were all over the place. One minute he had a fever, the next he was cold. I worked on him for about an hour, until another nurse relieved me. Right before he left, he woke with a start and scratched my arm, but we put him down with an extra dose of morphine. It looked like he had a bite mark on his leg, but the doctors ruled out any sort of rabies-type disease. Hope that man is okay. Heading to bed now, finally. I feel extra tired after this shift.

Linda
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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 the necessary 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 HungryForCommas

Only Crows

It’s spring. 

 I was waiting for hard summer to come but it’s too late, I should keep moving. The desert is just over the mountains. I want nothing more than to pass without revelation, to crunch deathly russet sands under my boots and collapse into oblivion. 

There’s little time. 

Everyday I feel it dripping down my back and through my bones like I’m a walking hourglass. The machete in my hands is dull, pitted and loose at the handle. The rotting corpses at my feet have stopped twitching.

I think it’s been 40 years, which makes me about 83 now. Feels like the right number for me to die. I only wish I’d sired some children. The compound is far, far behind. The dead ones had come, rickety and hungry as always but this time in more numbers than we’d seen. I was the first to create the place and I’m the last to leave it. My dream is dead. My compound is dead. My apocalyptic family is walking-dead, walking fucking dead.

Crows call overhead. They are my solace like a cool drink. I dream about showers, how the hot water would scorch my skin red in the best way like a lover’s slap in the face. I kick an ugly redheaded man and wipe his leavings off my blade on the rags of his pants. Fuck I miss Ginny. She had red hair like a blaze in the night. So many crows. I figure there’s got to be as many a’them as there used to be people. I’m the only people now, probably. 

My map’s old, almost as old as the road signs that point the way to destinations long pillaged, long ravaged. Lake Tahoe, I’d heard of it when I was a lad pissin with my shirt open on crops of the middle country. Ain’t a country anymore. That took about a decade though. We martialed quick and we had the best weapons in the world. The fuckin problem though was so many people couldn’t put two bullets in their children's heads. They’d get bit, shit spread and the crows feasted. Probably for the next thousand years they’ll be eating. Cleaning up our mess.

Time to walk, too much walking left to do and not enough time. I want to make it south. Die in the valley of death. I was born there, a birth in Death Valley. My ma called it poetic justice for the place but she was an idiot. She couldn’t kill her husband, just like she couldn’t leave him in life, just like she couldn’t stomach violence on TV. People didn’t know how to fight for life and that was the biggest problem. For three years I watched on the TV, while it still worked, while I still had ice cubes and bullets from the sports store down the block. I watched how whole families got eaten up and I saw my ma, when I went to visit that third year, the year it all went to shit and I couldn’t find a hot shower ever again. She hated violence alive. In death, she was death, she took out a whole church because she was too proud to admit the teeth marks on her thigh.

The sky always gets prettier. I love the sunsets on this final hike of mine. People said that the blood color of it was a terrible thing to witness everyday but it’s so rare now to see fresh victims coming. I saw an Eskimo once, must of come down off a glacier by the look of his parka shredded like a hobo’s. The things I seen... and I never lost the gratitude of a sunset. Funny, before, I didn’t give a nothin for it. Fucking sun was gonna come back the next day, waking me up for some crappy job, some crappy coffee and crappy traffic to get through it. I miss driving now. Any gas we siphoned never went into cars, there were too many other ways to use it. Don’t get me started on coffee. ‘Bout 20 years ago I found a coffee transpo warehouse. Cleaned out. That was probably the last time I cried.

I love these woods. I love how the sunlight dapples into long shadows and mixes in the rising dust. My eyes still haven’t left me. This is not such a bad place to die and sleeping in trees keeps the crawlers off me. But there’s something about the idea of the sun baking my cold bones till some crazy aliens find ‘em a million years from now and figure me for the last man on earth that didn’t suffer from the craziest fuckin myth come to life. Ed used to say it was an alien virus or some kind of X Files crap. We laughed. 

If you’re reading this then I was wrong. You’re alive. You can take these bones and place 'em in the desert for me and let 'em bake till they’re white as shark teeth. I know it might be a lot to ask but at the same time, what else you got to do, stranger?

My name is Bart Gilley and today I’m goin’a die before I turn. I seen it enough but it’s so goddamn weird to feel. It’s like when I used to go to the dentist and got numbed up. It starts around the bite, mine’s in my left calf, and my foot’s gone to sleep after a couple hours. 

The moon’s rising and I can’t walk no more. I’m just listening to the crows. I think they know when one’s gonna take his own instead of turning. They’re smart bastards. Perhaps they’ll inherit the earth and do somthing better with it.

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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 the necessary 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 HungryForCommas
Only Crows

It’s spring. 
 I was waiting for hard summer to come but it’s too late, I should keep moving. The desert is just over the mountains. I want nothing more than to pass without revelation, to crunch deathly russet sands under my boots and collapse into oblivion. 
There’s little time. 
Everyday I feel it dripping down my back and through my bones like I’m a walking hourglass. The machete in my hands is dull, pitted and loose at the handle. The rotting corpses at my feet have stopped twitching.
I think it’s been 40 years, which makes me about 83 now. Feels like the right number for me to die. I only wish I’d sired some children. The compound is far, far behind. The dead ones had come, rickety and hungry as always but this time in more numbers than we’d seen. I was the first to create the place and I’m the last to leave it. My dream is dead. My compound is dead. My apocalyptic family is walking-dead, walking fucking dead.
Crows call overhead. They are my solace like a cool drink. I dream about showers, how the hot water would scorch my skin red in the best way like a lover’s slap in the face. I kick an ugly redheaded man and wipe his leavings off my blade on the rags of his pants. Fuck I miss Ginny. She had red hair like a blaze in the night. So many crows. I figure there’s got to be as many a’them as there used to be people. I’m the only people now, probably. 
My map’s old, almost as old as the road signs that point the way to destinations long pillaged, long ravaged. Lake Tahoe, I’d heard of it when I was a lad pissin with my shirt open on crops of the middle country. Ain’t a country anymore. That took about a decade though. We martialed quick and we had the best weapons in the world. The fuckin problem though was so many people couldn’t put two bullets in their children's heads. They’d get bit, shit spread and the crows feasted. Probably for the next thousand years they’ll be eating. Cleaning up our mess.
Time to walk, too much walking left to do and not enough time. I want to make it south. Die in the valley of death. I was born there, a birth in Death Valley. My ma called it poetic justice for the place but she was an idiot. She couldn’t kill her husband, just like she couldn’t leave him in life, just like she couldn’t stomach violence on TV. People didn’t know how to fight for life and that was the biggest problem. For three years I watched on the TV, while it still worked, while I still had ice cubes and bullets from the sports store down the block. I watched how whole families got eaten up and I saw my ma, when I went to visit that third year, the year it all went to shit and I couldn’t find a hot shower ever again. She hated violence alive. In death, she was death, she took out a whole church because she was too proud to admit the teeth marks on her thigh.
The sky always gets prettier. I love the sunsets on this final hike of mine. People said that the blood color of it was a terrible thing to witness everyday but it’s so rare now to see fresh victims coming. I saw an Eskimo once, must of come down off a glacier by the look of his parka shredded like a hobo’s. The things I seen... and I never lost the gratitude of a sunset. Funny, before, I didn’t give a nothin for it. Fucking sun was gonna come back the next day, waking me up for some crappy job, some crappy coffee and crappy traffic to get through it. I miss driving now. Any gas we siphoned never went into cars, there were too many other ways to use it. Don’t get me started on coffee. ‘Bout 20 years ago I found a coffee transpo warehouse. Cleaned out. That was probably the last time I cried.
I love these woods. I love how the sunlight dapples into long shadows and mixes in the rising dust. My eyes still haven’t left me. This is not such a bad place to die and sleeping in trees keeps the crawlers off me. But there’s something about the idea of the sun baking my cold bones till some crazy aliens find ‘em a million years from now and figure me for the last man on earth that didn’t suffer from the craziest fuckin myth come to life. Ed used to say it was an alien virus or some kind of X Files crap. We laughed. 
If you’re reading this then I was wrong. You’re alive. You can take these bones and place 'em in the desert for me and let 'em bake till they’re white as shark teeth. I know it might be a lot to ask but at the same time, what else you got to do, stranger?
My name is Bart Gilley and today I’m goin’a die before I turn. I seen it enough but it’s so goddamn weird to feel. It’s like when I used to go to the dentist and got numbed up. It starts around the bite, mine’s in my left calf, and my foot’s gone to sleep after a couple hours. 
The moon’s rising and I can’t walk no more. I’m just listening to the crows. I think they know when one’s gonna take his own instead of turning. They’re smart bastards. Perhaps they’ll inherit the earth and do somthing better with it.


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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 the necessary 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 Andrometa

Night Lights

If you’re reading this, you might consider yourself somewhat fortunate. Of the 3000 houses in the immediate suburb, you have broken into my house, you’ve found a bunker full of food and water. That’s not the fortunate part. The fortunate part is that you’re reading my diary, and it might just save your life.

I have limited time. I can’t include everything, so here are the essentials.

They call them ‘Night Lights’.

The sky erupts in colour, spurred on with the lightning and thunder. The light bursts through cloud cover as if clawing through it. Like it has a life of its own. It’s a terrible, unnatural beauty.

The lights are commonly believed to be caused by seismic activity. The truth seekers have many theories. Tests have been conducted sporadically for over a century, normally during earthquakes (hence the connection). The idea is that coverage for the earthquake will wash out the few raving spectators. To aid the government, sceptics have even been planted in the scientific community to dispute victims claiming they’ve seen the phenomenon. They provide the reasonable doubt necessary for the governments to do their job.

Yes, you read correctly.

Though these lights can appear during earthquakes, the earthquakes do not cause them. The government does. The Night Lights we’re seeing tonight act as a warning system. Technology co-created by the government induces these lights. They have extraterrestrial origins, but much more than that, I don’t know. That’s above my security clearance. What I do know is that they have a vested interest in this experiment, and they’ll be watching closely.

The colour of the lights signal clearance agents. Tonight is Status BLUE. Day Zero. Call to action. 24 hours to be underground. There are deep tunnels with train systems that run on magnetic fields. I can be in Europe from New York in under an hour and that’s base of operations for the foreseeable future.

Status YELLOW, you should stay inside and away from open areas. Z Force will begin eradicating the infected. YELLOW acts as a pheromone lure. They will centralise within extermination fields – large blocks of land outside of major cities.

Status GREEN is all clear. The termination quota has been met. When you see that, you’ve made it.

Pray to whatever you believe in you don’t see Status RED. Trust me on this. If you see RED Night Lights, bright flaming crimson - kill yourself.

At the time of writing, you will need to survive at least 12 months before Status GREEN. Those are the present estimates. 12 months to remove more than half of the world’s population via controlled infection.

Stranger, whoever you are, know that at the very highest level, this was planned. This was a highly strategic, systematic cull. There’s nothing more you can do but look to the sky. I wish you the best of luck.

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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 the necessary 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 Andrometa
Night Lights
If you’re reading this, you might consider yourself somewhat fortunate. Of the 3000 houses in the immediate suburb, you have broken into my house, you’ve found a bunker full of food and water. That’s not the fortunate part. The fortunate part is that you’re reading my diary, and it might just save your life.

I have limited time. I can’t include everything, so here are the essentials.

They call them ‘Night Lights’.

The sky erupts in colour, spurred on with the lightning and thunder. The light bursts through cloud cover as if clawing through it. Like it has a life of its own. It’s a terrible, unnatural beauty.

The lights are commonly believed to be caused by seismic activity. The truth seekers have many theories. Tests have been conducted sporadically for over a century, normally during earthquakes (hence the connection). The idea is that coverage for the earthquake will wash out the few raving spectators. To aid the government, sceptics have even been planted in the scientific community to dispute victims claiming they’ve seen the phenomenon. They provide the reasonable doubt necessary for the governments to do their job.

Yes, you read correctly.

Though these lights can appear during earthquakes, the earthquakes do not cause them. The government does. The Night Lights we’re seeing tonight act as a warning system. Technology co-created by the government induces these lights. They have extraterrestrial origins, but much more than that, I don’t know. That’s above my security clearance. What I do know is that they have a vested interest in this experiment, and they’ll be watching closely.

The colour of the lights signal clearance agents. Tonight is Status BLUE. Day Zero. Call to action. 24 hours to be underground. There are deep tunnels with train systems that run on magnetic fields. I can be in Europe from New York in under an hour and that’s base of operations for the foreseeable future.

Status YELLOW, you should stay inside and away from open areas. Z Force will begin eradicating the infected. YELLOW acts as a pheromone lure. They will centralise within extermination fields – large blocks of land outside of major cities.

Status GREEN is all clear. The termination quota has been met. When you see that, you’ve made it.

Pray to whatever you believe in you don’t see Status RED. Trust me on this. If you see RED Night Lights, bright flaming crimson - kill yourself.

At the time of writing, you will need to survive at least 12 months before Status GREEN. Those are the present estimates. 12 months to remove more than half of the world’s population via controlled infection.

Stranger, whoever you are, know that at the very highest level, this was planned. This was a highly strategic, systematic cull. There’s nothing more you can do but look to the sky. I wish you the best of luck.

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Juice
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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 the necessary 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 UniqueStacey87

It's Not a Myth

It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry about it. 

Something bizarre is occurring. More and more people are joining the desert by the hour. Word is the virus is spreading. Maybe it’s true, the zombie rumor. Panicking people, racing up and down, try to find a way out, trying to escape from this desert and the people surrounding it. 

 

(Loud shouting in the background) 

 

The rumors are true. With my very own eyes I just witnessed a figure grab one of the younger people and bite them in the arm. The whole place is chaotic. The groups divided. Some people wanna help the bitten individual, others wanna kill him. The figure disappeared. I’m concerned. 

 

Where did it go?   

 

How does the virus spread? 

 

How do I try overcoming this? 

 

I don’t wanna give up faith, but wow, am I going to survive this? 

 

Zombies! What the fuck? I thought they were a myth. I need to figure out a plan. I need to stay focused. How did I find myself here, dealing with a zombie apocalypse? 

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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 the necessary 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 UniqueStacey87
It's Not a Myth


It’s the first day of a zombie apocalypse, write a diary entry about it. 

Something bizarre is occurring. More and more people are joining the desert by the hour. Word is the virus is spreading. Maybe it’s true, the zombie rumor. Panicking people, racing up and down, try to find a way out, trying to escape from this desert and the people surrounding it. 
 
(Loud shouting in the background) 
 
The rumors are true. With my very own eyes I just witnessed a figure grab one of the younger people and bite them in the arm. The whole place is chaotic. The groups divided. Some people wanna help the bitten individual, others wanna kill him. The figure disappeared. I’m concerned. 
 
Where did it go?   
 
How does the virus spread? 
 
How do I try overcoming this? 
 
I don’t wanna give up faith, but wow, am I going to survive this? 
 
Zombies! What the fuck? I thought they were a myth. I need to figure out a plan. I need to stay focused. How did I find myself here, dealing with a zombie apocalypse? 
#fiction  #apocalypse  #zombies  #LettersFromPrison 
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