April 7th

Posted: May 1, 2013 in Uncategorized

Dear journal,

I guess my wish to travel was finally granted when I left my town and just started walking. I didn’t have any idea of where I was going. I spent that first night outside of the town half sleeping and half feeling like I was going to fall any minute suspended from several branches of a tree. I figured that I had never heard of a zombie climbing a tree, so being up high was a safe bet. It would have been more comfortable if I could have found something with a wider branch to put all my weight on, instead of strapping myself over two and praying that neither decided to break. That would have been a complete nightmare – tied to one branch still attached to a tree while dangling with the weight over another that had decided to leave the safety of the trunk.

Although I broke “camp” as soon as it even looked like it might get light out, I guess I was lucky that I wasn’t dead. If my luck where horrible, I’m sure fate would have figured out a good way to get rid of me that night. But I lived, and I am still here to write about it, even though solidifying the memory with pen and paper did not even cross my mind. I don’t think I thought about this journal at all for the first couple of weeks, and a guilt and shame washed over me when I remembered it. I honestly had forgotten if I had even packed it, and it was a strange moment of joy when I found it the bottom of my backpack. It was like finding an ally when I hadn’t seen a soul I cared to know in what felt like a lifetime.

I felt guilt about abandoning my promise. I know that is stupid – I clearly had more pressing matters. I think it was more about the shame I felt of more people dying in my house. I brought that people into my house to make them safe, and even though they survived a massive breach in their home town, they all died under my roof. I didn’t want to write it down. Somehow it felt like I would be killing them all over again. I know I didn’t rip the flesh from their bones myself, and I know I took all the precautions I could possibly think of to keep that house like a fortress, but I will always hate that they came to my house for protection, but ended up dying there instead. It has taken a lot of thinking over the last few days for me to come to the conclusion that I need to write things down. Ellen, Penelope and Mandy need to be remembered, but I need to get them out of my head and onto these pages. I honestly hope that if Nick lived, he didn’t have to see Ellen that way. If I had been thinking at the time, I would have covered their bodies with something. It wouldn’t have made them any less dead, but it would have sheltered him from seeing pieces of the love of his life when he first walked in the door. I could have left a note, too, but what could I possibly say to him? “She’s gone” doesn’t quite seem to do the trick. I don’t know if my shaking hands could have formed that many letters, anyway.

I’ve become a bit more successful at sleeping in trees since that first night. Every night, it has been a new location. I was smart of ration my food supply harshly, even though I was completely starving after that first day’s walk into the unknown and uncharted world of No Mans Land.

I don’t always sleep in trees, and some nights I felt like I must have been sleeping with one eye open, but I’m glad I’ve found a place a little bit more permanent and comfortable, at least for the time being. I think I really needed this time to let my everlasting adrenaline take a break and actually sleep deeply. I figured I might get nightmares, but I slept like the dead for nearly 18 hours before waking, only to feast before going right back to sleep for another 12 hours.

Always,
-Miriam

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