A Resolution

Dear diary,

never have I imagined this outcome, not in million years. Yesterday I begun preparing carefully chosen groceries for the special procedure, in order to conserve them thoroughly for the winter months. Mother was in a jolly good mood sorting the vegetables one by one, her mind thriving under the pressure of these rehearsed, robotic repetitive tasks. The beauty was not in those actions but in her mind swirling to future feasts, family gatherings and friends visiting the house helping themselves to a salad after a meal. The future was upon us like a promised tide of memories to acquire, people to meet and tasks to fulfill. This morning it was brutally shuttered by the scared, intermittent speaker's voice. 'I cannot say anything to our nation but beware! Our best scientists have predicted this to happen, and they truly...have risen. Do not leave your houses! Arm yourselves! Stay safe, good people.' 

          He looked behind his shoulder and returned his head with a twitch in his eye. 'Always stay in a group! Always!' As he yelled the last words, the program abruptly stopped and TV screen became immediately filled with black and white dots; a phenomena humanity hasn't seen (I'm sure) since the 90's.

          Can you imagine how we felt? What is to be expected, as the panic overtook each one of us in the living room, (we were all thinking the same, I presume) than that we shall all vanish swiftly on a random day, like the speaker from his program, leaving unrecognizable bloody dots mashed with the remains of our brains and torn pieces of cloth. Our nemesis will smash our heads and drink our brains up, then recklessly leave the unwanted remains on the pavement. They will not touch the winter stores laying on the shelves peacefully. The food we prepared for the day will be looked at, then coldly ignored along with everything I held dear in that house. Even you, dear diary.

If we are to vanish, I leave you as a testimonial of our last sane days, to stay here and be a torch of wisdom to whomever finds you and is still leading a battle we tried to win. If we, in fact, survive, you will remain an omen of this unexpected vicious turn of events no one quite thought would materialize in our ego-oriented world. Again, we have fallen in the trap of our own self-importance, as our ancestors did. No one is coming to save us; this is not a science fiction plot made to entertain our fancy; we are completely alone. Zombies have occupied the research centres in which we could actually construct a defense mechanism, and therefore have cut us out from any plausible and quick solution. The struggle will last and take every atom of strength and every thinking brain cell we've got. I hear a strong wind whirling around the house. Mother is looking at me with watered eyes. I've never seen her tremble like this. I am all she has now, and I've got to go to the basement to secure our doors. 

           Will write you tomorrow. I, for one, must believe so. Stay sane; if I fail to do so in the days to come, I will turn to you as my last bastion and beacon of light. You know I despise unnecessary, overly emotional outbursts. You can imagine how serious the situation truly and inescapably is. So long, and thank you.