“A faithful friend is a strong defense; And he that hath found him hath found a treasure.”
~ Louisa May Alcott
“The meagre by the meagre were devour'd,
Even dogs assail'd their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful…and kept
The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lur'd their lank jaws…”
~Excerpt from Lord Byron’s Darkness
I don’t know how long its been since the darkness set in. What I do know is that I haven’t seen the sun in a quite some time. I imagine someone has managed to keep dates with days, but why bother. You survive whether you know if its Monday or not.
I will say, if I could know the date of any one day, it would be the day I die, which may be very soon. It would not benefit me, but I would like to know how I old I am when I pass. I would write it in the dirt beside me, a crude headstone to be laid to rest by. I doubt anyone would see it, or care if they did, but I still feel some small desire to have a proper grave, if one could call it that. Maybe I’m just searching for an island of familiarity in a strange, dark sea.
As I think about my impending death, I grow angry, but I’m not sure why. I have often looked up into the darkness and tried to be angry but there is no one to be angry with. Maybe someone knew about the darkness before it came, and I could hate them, if their even is a them, but then I think of what I would want from them. Would I want to know? What would I do? What can one do when then world is bathed in darkness?
For now I am angry that I am dying, but once again I find no outlet for my rage. I left the safety of my home to get supplies I had hidden away in a local grocer. I had put them there some time ago. I needed them but couldn’t carry any more and hoped they would be there to save me when I truly needed them. Ironic that what I planned to use to save myself would lead to my death.
I managed to make it to the store and get what I needed without running into trouble, but I was not so lucky on my return. The only light I had was my flashlight, which is dying, and a lighter so my progress was slow from the start, but the weight of the food and supplies made me considerably slower. It took me a long time before I reached the park that was my halfway point, and when I reached its center I had to sit and rest.
I knew I shouldn’t have. I knew he had claimed this area as his own, but I had seen him earlier and managed to avoid him. I thought he would be far behind me, and that I was in no danger as long as I stayed alert because I wasn’t alone or unarmed. I had both Argos and my pistol with me, and from what I could tell from previous observations, he was an unarmed madman who laughed to himself incessantly. For this reason I call him the Fool. I shouldn’t have underestimated him. Sometimes madness is a weapon all its own.