Storm of the Century

Chapter 1 - Prologue

Dear whoever finds this. My name is Stephen. I'm 25 years old and well, if you're reading this then I'm afraid that I'm long gone. Where you ask?

Your guess is as good as mine, dead, alive or something much worse, I cannot tell you. I'm currently sat in my basement. I say currently but I've been in this dreary, beaten brick walled prison for weeks now, maybe months.

Time isn't relevant down here. Nothing is relevant, I'm here now and in all honesty, I don't know whether that's good or bad.

I started counting down the days by etching a dash for each day but after the sun went down and never came up, I stopped.

The small rectangular window being my only connection to the outside world didn't last very long. Although, with the rain cascading down it, I couldnt really see out of it anyway. Just a warped screenshot of my neighbourhood.

What was once my beacon of hope became my tormentor. Knowing just outside that window I could be free...but for how long?

The voices come to me regularly. I only ever get a short respite before they start weeping again. Telling me it's safe out, pleading at me to open the door.

All I know is I'm safe right now. Safety is a concept I took for granted, now I truly know the meaning of the word. Being able to walk outside, breath the fresh air without knowing it could be your last.

I'm getting ahead of myself. I need to get this written down whilst I still can and whilst I'm still sane enough to remember. I'll go back to the beginning, before the sun went black and this basement became my tomb. Before the voices became tempting.