Down the Rabbit's Hole - 3December 20Who am I kidding? No one will ever read this journal.NO ONE!!!I feel like I'm screaming when I write in all caps. I wish I could scream for real, but all that would do is scare away the animals, and it might attract the attention of a zombie.I HATE THIS.You know why I'm so certain no one will ever read this journal?THERE'S NO ONE LEFT TO READ IT.Except me, and there's no point in writing for myself.I don't feel any better.
Down the Rabbit's Hole - 2December 19They say it helps to write things down. I dunno, 'cause I certainly didn't feel any better last time, but I got to thinking.What if someone besides me survived? It's an insane hope, I know but what if? Then someday this journal could be useful, if only to tell them how it all went wrong.I think- I think I'll write down what happened. Or at least the little I know.Tomorrow.
Down the Rabbit's Hole - 1December 17When the end of the world happened, it happened quietly.It wasn't WWIII.It wasn't another Hiroshima.It wasn't a massive natural disaster.No.But I wish it had been.
The Last Will and Testament of Hobbs PoptimistAs a young author, I must explainTo you how hard it is to write refrainsThat, without exception, have to rhyme.This story took up too much of my time.Still, you are owed some minor detailsAs to why this story is slightly derailed.Firstly, the protagonist is somewhat based on the writer,But only in name, not in intentions, you blighters.Then, it involves zombies, so there's some horror.Then add in a suicide and a dash of murder.WAIT! Before you try to run away,The gore is edited out, okay?And there are reasons why she died.She would have done more harm still alive.One last thing before you read this story.She is not telling them to dissect her goryBody. The meanings symbolic, if you get the gist,Except for what she gave to her aunts on the list.Now, this story is written in the form of a letter,Addressed to her living family members.I apologize to whoever finds me firstI wish it had not come to this worstCase scenario, but I will tell you howThis all came about. N
This Poem Stole My WalletThis poem stole my walletAs its very last resortI guess it was miffed at meYou know? Feeling out of sorts.Poor poem, how I pity youBut really, what could I say?"I'm sorry, no time for writing this week,Come back some other day."But no! It wouldn't listen.Simply insisted to be writtenDespite my protests of being tired today.So now here it is, hope it's happy.At the very least it's not sappy.But it is an absolute jerk of the very worst sort.Not to mention a mess, withoutRhyme, reason, or rhythmTo hold its sorry linesAnd varied stanzasTogether.I denounce it as a magpie, a jaybird, a crowI'm ashamed to even think that I could write something so low.Thank heavens! It's the end. It's had its silly fun.I bid you all goodnight, this poem's finally done.