The Lone WandererMature

A man left alone in a world empty of life. These are the diary entries of a man with no face. Only words. His goal is hazy. His message is blurry. But the hope in his heart is clear.


Day 74 since nuclear fallout. Diary entry number 50. Time 6:23 PM. Temperature 32 degrees Fahrenheit.

I awoke to a kind fellow today, who took me in late last night. As I recall I had a gash on my thigh, he stitched it while I asleep. Or, erm, passed out from blood loss. He was a very kind man, and he later told me he too was a wanderer. He just had a hell of a lot of equipment. I have a notebook, a knife, and a pen. I later bid him farewell,after he fed me and gave me water, and continued my search for nothing. Wandering across sheer desert. Or whatever the fuck you can call this.

I encountered many rotting animal carcasses, and human skeletons. I took the bones for sharpening. I wish I could write more, but it is getting increasingly cold. All for now.


The End

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