50 Journal Entries

Entry 46: I went out this morning to look for supplies. They’re getting harder and harder to come by these days. I’ve more or less been living off a concoction of water, vitamins, and canned soup that expired about two years ago. I think al the canned goods expired two years ago. I’m not really sure. All the labels are starting to look the same.

When I put on my gas mask to leave the house I noticed something on the inside. I little sticker. A yellow circle with a smiling face. Mary must have stuck it there. I miss her. I still haven’t written about her passing much. I think I’ll feel better if I don’t dwell on it too much. Besides, this word wasn’t fit for a little girl. She deserved better. I’m not sure I believe in heaven, but I hope she’s up there.

Entry 1: I’ve decided to start keeping a journal. Not that anybody will ever see it. I’ll be dead long before I can fill these pages and so will the rest of the population. That isn’t the point though. I’m keeping this journal for me and no one else. Soemthing happened today that made me so happy that I had to write it down. I found a little girl. Her name is Mary and she’s 7 years old. I haven’t seen another living person in years. I’m not sure how long she’s been on her own. She was crying uncontrollably when I found her. She was scared of my gas mask at first but once she realized I was a person and not a nightmarish monster she ran into my arms and sobbed into my shoulder. I put the mask over her face and carried her home. She still hasn’t said anything but she isn’t crying anymore. I have her a couple of sugar cubes and I think she’s falling asleep now.

Entry 14: I think Mary has almost fully opened up to me now. We laugh together and she smiles more. I think I’ve been smiling more too. When I went out for supplies today I found a small roll of stickers. They’re all bright colors with different faces on them. She even named all of them. I wanted her peel a purple one with eyelashes off the roll. She stuck it on her chest.

“What’s her name, Mary?” I asked. She gave me a look as if I should have already known the stickers name.

“That’s mommy.” She said. “And I keep her by my heart, that’s where you keep things you love!”

I smiled and nodded. Then I moved the sticker to the other side of her chest and explained to her where her heart is. I may have given her a small lesson on human anatomy but I really didn’t mean to.

Entry 23: Mary is getting worse. Worse than I am. Her hair wasn’t falling out too fast but it seemed to have all fallen out overnight. She was upset about it at first. I tried to cheer her up by showing her that my hair falls out too and it’s just because of the radiation. The truth is I haven’t lost half as much as she has. So I pulled a chunk out of my head. I must not have winced too much because she felt better after I did that. I wish I could help her, but I can’t reverse radiation poisoning. The whole world is radioactive.

Entry 30: We had a few good days this week but I don’t think Mary is going to be here much longer. She’s been vomiting and having diarrhea all morning and I barely have enough water to keep her hydrated. I worry that someone else could’ve taken better care of her, but everyone on Earth is going to succumb to this sooner or later. Selfishly, I wish I could die before her.

Entry 39: Tonight Mary begged me to take her outside to look at the stars. She knows they aren’t visible anymore, but she told me that we could lie on the ground and pretend. I carried her outside and set her down on the softest blanket I had. No gas mask for her. There’s no point. If you just looked at her eyes you really would’ve thought she was looking up at a clear sky, and observing the entire Milky Way. She didn’t pull her attention away from the sky when she spoke to me.

“Will you keep me in you’re heart?” She asked.

“Of course I will.” I replied. “I love you.”

She smiled. “I saw mommy last night in my dreams. She sat right at the end of my bed and she told me she’s coming to get me today. I’m happy she’s okay. I just wanted to say goodbye because she’s coming soon.”

I tried very hard to not let my voice crack. “Do you see her anywhere?”

“No.” Mary began to close her eyes, “but I feel her.”

She didn’t open her eyes again. I wrapped her in the blanket. I’m going to burry her now.

Entry 50: I went out today without my gas mask. I’ve gotten a lot worse the past few weeks. Ever since Mary died. I’m not afraid of dying. I’ve had plenty of time to come to terms with it. I went further than I usually do. I found a large duffel bag that I knew would have supplied in it. At least enough to sustain me for as long as my body decides to keep fighting. Not far from the bag was a decaying body. I don’t want to go into detail as to what it looks like. I’ve seen so many, there’s no point in reliving somthing I’ll probably see again. I saw light bounce off the body. As I walked up to it I could see it. A little gold locket with flowers etched into it. I wouldn’t normally have opened a locket on a dead body but it almost felt as if I had no control over it. I popped it open and saw a faded picture of Mary. I came right home after. No supplies. I feel at peace. I think it’s time.