500 Days
Fuck it tehe, i wrote this in like 20 minutes take it, its word vomit, and uber bad but i dont really care cause its like about to be 1 am and im still not tired, lots of twd referances cause i love that, judge me, be cruel, kinda wanna see how bad it really is, protagonist is unnamed cause im very bad at names.
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I woke from my slumber, like every other person. I checked my digital watch, and it read Wednesday, August 8th, 6:02 AM. The watch didn't say the year, but that was fine, as that information was not yet bygone to me.
Mudi was still asleep next to me, my only friend while the world ended, he's such a good dog.
I rose from the comfort of my mattress and just lurked for a few minutes, eventually I heard Mudi rise too, and he came running for his food which I had already placed into his bowl. Today was day 500, a milestone if you will. I would be lost trying to tell how long it's been with just the watch, so I've been keeping track of money which now holds no value.
One day is one more penny into the tray, after five days the pennies are replaced with one nickel, after 10 days the nickels were replaced with one dime, 25 days and the two dimes and one nickel became a quarter and so on, I replaced the twin two dollar, three quarters, 2 dimes and four pennies with a five dollar bill. It's reminiscent of a collection basket I would witness go down the pew I sat in and when it reached me I would swiftly put in some pennies I dug up from the couch cushions at home.
With a newfound wakeful mind, I collected my things and left out the door, Mudi shortly behind me. The birds greeted me with their songs as I and company went to the nearby river to collect fish, which I loathed. This life may keep me humble, and humble I've become. I used to loathe the taste of seafood, but now I look forward to it, although perhaps that's because of the lack of any other food.
I had a comfortable schedule, in the dawn I fished, not with a fishing rod. No, that's too tedious, I employ a sharpened pool cue, technically a spear. It's my instrument. But I still know not what my symphony is.
Time passed, bucket filled, legs waterlogged. It was time to return home. I’ll bore you not with details, I placed the fish into my makeshift salt box and continued on with my schedule.
Checking on the water collectors on the roof, and they were all fine and untouched, but I needed something to occupy myself with so I left to find something else. I could raid some more of the town, make my ever-growing collection of canned goods grinder, find some new literature, maybe some more clothes, medical supplies would be nice as I've only really found prescription drugs for some pain which I lack.
So with Mudi at my side we go into the small township which is Blackwood. I never knew this place before it all, it's funny how the end of the world caused me to migrate across the country. I always knew this town as devoid of people, just Mudi and I.
We spent the rest of the day going through buildings, collecting anything which could be of use, books, magazines, canned foods, clothes, medicine, alcohol (for when I'm of age of course), vinyls, a little bit of everything really. I finally found a vinyl I've been looking for, “Just the two of us” by Grover Washington. It was my parent's favorite, sadly I lack the necessary materials to play it but It's nice to have.
My day was done as the sun rested, the most important part of the day was upon me, messages to others. I lit the bonfire I constructed on my house's roof, stronger enough so it appears as a small orange glint in the distance from my fellow survivors. And after a few minutes, I saw those five specks appear in the distance.
The paper with Morse code scribbled onto it in my hand I signaled “SAFE” and I received the same message from the five other lights. Why did we not meet up? Perhaps to not disrupt the life we have cultivated with the complication of others? That's why I remain here, at least.
I put out my fire after cooking dinner, charred lake fish, I put out the fire and saw the other specks disappear. Mudi and I ate on the roof of the warehouse now home, gazing into the stars beyond us.
Then a rumble, Mudi bolts down the stairs of the open door into the safety of our home, I look above and there it is, one of those things, I still don't know if they have an official name but I've dubbed them Drifters, they come and go at random intervals, I've grown used to them, well giant hunks of metal floating in the sky will always be an oddity. They do not bother me as much as they used to.
I kind of like watching them now, as they drift into a destination beyond my sight below the horizon. Though I decide to call it a night, it's spaghetti Thursday tomorrow, just need to find some spaghetti.
