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The Snow

By: mkkrinler

Chapter 1, *disclaimer* I\'m afraid people are reading this chapter and judging the whole novel by it. This is a journal entry by a character in the story. The spelling errors and poor grammar are on purpose. If you read on to chapter two, you will find the timeline reverts to before chapter 1, and is written in a much more \"correct\" manner. So please enjoy! Be intrigued and know it is a style choice for a chapter of a much larger story.

The Snow

Log: #20, 2008, 20 wake-ups after.

We set Paul out back. First onto the third story balcony, then slid him over the edge down into the yard. Even if we wanted to burry him there’s too much snow, and the earths too hard from cold for it. i think I pulled something in my back in the process anyway though, pulling him down the hallway. im so sore. I hated not being able to give him a proper burial. He’d risked his life for the rest of us and died in the process he deserved better than we could give. We all said a few words though. I hope he understands. I’m afraid of what it is going to do his wife Clair. She was so unsteady as it was. just yesterday he had told me that he’d caught her staring at the snow, just standing in the doorway in the cold and everything not wrapped in a blanket. Staring “like the snow was an oasis” he had said. Hallucinating? I wouldn’t doubt it. He gave her a gentle yelling and shake and she came around, i guess, it seemed. But now with him gone I will have to give the gentle yelling’s, thats the least I can do for him. Though I admit it wasn’t entirely in vain, he dying. Now we know that filtering the water under the ice in the river won’t work. I can’t imagine the pain he went through last night. We all sat around him as he moaned and cried, trying to tell him it was going to be okay. Clair kept asking me to just kill him, but I didnt dare. Im not a murderer and what if he had pulled through? It really didn’t help everyone’s growing depression to listen. I can’t believe i let him do it when I think about it. I appointed myself as a leader so it should have been me. Paul wouldnt hear of it. Some leader. it was not in vain. can’t forget that. It did work a little, it didn’t just corrode a hole through his mouth or throat. It settled in his stomach for the first part of the afternoon, then---- We need to figure out how to get more water! Food is okay, as long as we keep it rationed and stick to the plan to get out of here soon. now there is only 8 of us. Less people = more food = more days I suppose. I believe there are more people then us still in town, and they may have food though I doubt it. We’ve raided just about everything the nearby neighborhood has to offer and we are running low. I can’t believe a family would have that much food saved, or what’s more that much water. Tomorrow when we go out we might find people. I mean- people other than the starved and dehydrated or the corroded corpses, or corpses with bullets in the skulls. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, live people, if they are also out of food more mouths to feed but more saved lives is more lives I suppose. More saved lives and that is important. God i am so tired. I think I’ve written all there was to today. And some. Tomorrow we may try something new. Set up a fire in a room where we can open a window for the smoke and not have to breath the air too much. But it will be ME leading it. I won’t have more blood on my hands- or rather the corroded, boiled guts of another friend.

Timothy Blade

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