The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.
“It began with a drum. Then the monsters came. I’ve been hiding ever since.”
They came back. I had hoped they wouldn’t, but they’re here. The sound started again just a few moments ago. Most people left their cars. I didn’t. I crawled into the trunk through my seats. I’m not going out there. I’ve got some old Taco Bell back here that smells funky and some empty quarts of oil that made the carpet greasy. Should’ve listened to my girlfriend and thrown them away. I hear all sorts of things around me, screams, explosions, and the grating sound of shattered glass being walked on. I never should have left the bank.
When I woke up this morning, the world was hot and humid. I could feel the heat bubbling down into that dank basement. It’s April? It shouldn’t be this hot. I made it outside and found everything smashed; cars turned over and charred. A bus was torn open and was stained a deep red.
Everything smelled burnt and ugly.
A few light poles had fallen down in the bank parking lot, but both missed my Stratus. A cop had started to wave traffic through the street; a bulldozer was pushing all the shit out of the way. Houses were smashed; their roofs taken off and walls torn out. The plants were budding like crazy. And the heat, the damn heat was everywhere. I asked the police officer what happened and he said, “We got attacked by some sort of thing last night, devils or something. I’d try and make it home. They seemed to have gone away in the daylight. A bunch of people died, though. Prepare yourself. I don’t know much more than that, but everyone is trying to get home.”
He looked at the bank behind me and shook his head. “Well, money isn’t that important now, huh?” he said.
That wasn’t my money, so whatever.
I jumped in my car and turned on the radio. There was nothing. Just that annoying broadcast that they test at the beginning of the month. I-94 was getting cleared of debris and people were piling into their cars. It took me all day to get to Minneapolis. Nothing moved. My phone was dead. I got to Broadway when the sound started. There was nothing else. I have to stop writing. I’ve never written this much in my life. Things are walking by my car.
I can feel their weight.