November 3rd, 2056– 15:04.
I've been out here a few days now, no food... no water. I can feel my stomach cave in every step I take, the skin on my lips peeling every time i breathe. I hate it. My last human interaction was years ago, far too long for me to even remember what they looked like.. they're most likely dead now.
Exactly 34 years since the "transformation". That's what they call it, I'm 22 now. Nobody knows how or when.. or even why, but on that cold, snowy day— more that half of the population dropped dead. The power immediately went out and sent the remaining survivors into a craze. If they weren't devoured by this.. mutation, they were being swallowed up by their own mind— going crazy.
The few friends I've made over the time in this hell have all transformed after a couple years. After some studying, it made sense to me that there's really no way to tell if they have the mutation. There's also no way for you to get infected.. their bites don't really do anything, it's more like you're chosen at any moment.
—End.
