Harold - Fragment

[Transcript of found diary entry. Author presumed deceased.]



Dear Samantha,

This will probably be the last you hear from me. Before I go any further, I just want you to know that I've always loved you more than words can adequately resolve, and that even our children were occasionally pleasant.

Except for Zack. He was way smellier than he should have been.

Through judicious boarding of the windows and a good supply of canned food and bottled water, I have managed to survive thus far. The details of my countermeasures and diet I have already explained in previous letters, so I will not go into it again. But, let me tell you, if I somehow live to see tomorrow, I will never mock bottled water again!

However, tonight things have taken a turn for the worse. They know I'm in here. More have come, and they have gathered in the yard, surrounding the house and pressing in. What is worse, they seem to have figured out how to use tools. Until now, all they've done is beat against the walls with their fists and heads. Now they're using...the fists and heads of other people. I'm afraid that their crude and grisly clubs have proven effective against my plywood.

Uh oh. That didn't sound good. A splintery crunch, a bang and...could it be? Triumphant groaning! Soon they will be in the house. I must brace myself.

Shit. Here comes one now. You'll never take me alive, red-shirted face eater! YAAAH! Take that!

I've just brained one with a drinking glass. These creatures (who were once human, I believe) have remarkable stamina, and they seem impervious to pain. This makes them very hard to incapacitate. The blow I have most recently delivered (you will recall it was with a drinking glass) has shattered the glass and brought the fellow to his knees, but he is still doggedly chewing on my ankle.

Stop that, you brute! I poked him between the eyes with a shard of glass, but to no avail.

I might be more effective against the onslaught of the ravening hordes if I were to stop typing this letter, so that is what I shall do.

If you and the kids survive and find this missive, know that I tried. And tell Zack that yes, I do have a favorite, and it's not him.

Your husband,
--Harold


[Transcript ends.]