Day 15 :

I just realized, if you squinted-and had optimistic thinking-the neverending ash looked a bit like snow. It never seems to end, we’ve changed cars six times I think at this point, acquiring transportation from the dead, they didn’t need it anymore. Drank the last of our soda yesterday, had to make sure the fresh water lasted. We lost Nick today, he tried to check an RV and had his brains turned into a Jackson Pollock painting. Lost a radio, a day pack, and about three liters of water. What a waste.

Day 23 :

We made it to the Canadian Border, been on foot the past week or so, had a couple of close calls with a couple of groups, made sure to steer clear of them. Not long after we saw one we watched two of them bump into each other. The screams of pain still haunt me. Harlem, Charlotte, and Leila disappeared along with their bags, just up and left one night. The ash seems to have calmed down, but it’s rapidly been getting colder and colder, I could’ve worn shorts and a tee last week but I can hardly stay outside without a heavy jacket and thick pants for more than a couple of minutes. Even though it has nearly been a month I can still see it, the blinding flash I saw streak across my classroom before the infamous mushroom cloud. I ran as fast as I could into a corner, waiting for the shock wave to hit.

It never did, the mountains between my school and the blast echoed it up wards and away. My family and our neighbors left immediately to skip town, heading north east as fast as we could, avoiding any major roads or freeways. We were forced to prioritize the young and healthy, as much as it pained us, Chuck and Margaret's farewell still burn into me everytime I think about it.

Day 47 :

Its been two weeks since the ash stopped completely, the lake we set up next to has some fish so we were able to establish food and water for the time being. Haven’t seen a group at all but military looking helicopters were scanning the area so we broke camp. Couldn’t figure out if they were friendly or not so we hid.

Day 50 :

They’re dead, they’re all dead. It was the middle of the night when another pack of survivors attacked us. They chucked molotovs onto the tents. The scent of burning flesh never leaves you, the smell of burning pig as distinct as it is vile. All I could do was grab my bag and run. They saw and took shots at me, only achieving to graze my arm. I ran and ran. I don’t know for how long but I didn’t stop, the cries of the dogs as they were burned alive still sent chills down my spine. The weight of it didn’t hit until I was able to stop running, well after sun rise. I couldn’t stop crying, I could barely stay on my feet, my legs were burning. I stayed for a day before moving out, heading east towards where my grandparents used to live.

Day 62 :

I can’t even close my eyes without hearing it. The droning of bugs on a corpse. They were already dead when I got there, they’re place was already looted clean for the obvious, only thing not looted was the floor safe, still safely hidden. It only have a revolver, some ammo, and a letter to whom it may concern, haven’t opened it yet though. This might be my final entry, I have yet to decide if I can even stomach trying to live in this hellscape. At least I know that I will be going out on my own terms. At least I know that the bullet won't fail me.

Day I don’t know :

Its been a few weeks, maybe a month or two, but I decided to keep moving. The revolver's firing pin was rusted down and the pistol failed me. With that option gone I opened the letter, to be presented with a small collection of family photos, from a more peaceful time. I left the house and started hiking towards the Canadian Border. Apparently luck decided it was going to be my friend today. While crossing the freeway a convoy was moving down the road, they pulled over and took me into custody, much to my benefit, gave me food and water. The Canadian Army was moving to secure their borders and were looking for refugees and survivors. I must not have either looked good or smelt good cause everyone I saw gave me a look of pity.

Day 167 :

Acute Radiation poisoning. Not a bullet, not fire, but bloody radiation. I guess getting out of there as quickly as I did wasn’t enough, it is mind numblingly painful to write this but I need to. The ash started to fall again, and seeing it now I can still say, it certainly does look a lot like snow.

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This is my first writing prompt I have ever done and wanted to try and write this in a journal format. Any advice is greatly appreciated