The Greenland Diaries: Day 50

I always knew things were beyond me. Last night, that belief was cemented, sculptured and verified. The one night I wander out with a small bit of bravery, someone else decides to be brave and shows me just how easy it is to die.

I cleaned up the blood earlier today. It smelled salty.

I’m not sure educational would be the right word for what occurred. My father would use the term “enlightening,” but that word doesn’t remotely give justice to what happened last night. Those big monsters, the ones with those jagged, misshapen arms that expand, well, they seem indestructible. I’m not sure if I even have a weapon that’d be effective against their forms.

Grenades didn’t faze them, so theoretically, nothing will. 

Doesn’t really matter though, for the next week I’ll strategize another route to take when exploring the world at night.

During the day, like now, when I’m writing in this haggard notepad beneath a pair of overgrown tree shadows, it feels like no time has passed, not a single day. At night, in the dust and grime of hiding, where the faceless ones stalk every corner, those moments are equal to the millennia.

Talked to Gerald today, he spouted the same paranoia and negative thoughts about the direction of our species. Sometimes, I wonder what he would have been like before the Drum, before everything else. Would I still have talked to him? Was he this paranoid before? Did the beasts just drag it out of him? If they weren’t trying to kill him physically, they certainly were eroding his mind. He might be right about the world being devastated, but staggering around in the heat, mumbling about the plants and blossoms; it wasn’t doing him any good.

I wish I could tell him these things. I wish I could tell him to keep his chin up and to stop acting crazy. My passive-aggressive side hasn’t quite run its course, even with this plant-wild apocalypse.

I’d better start getting ready for the Drum.

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