puddles4263 patreon

Status

🕑 Added 2019-08-28 02:33:00 +0000 UTC

Comments

Bobby B.

Day ?: srvive log. Wrdz com hard now. Splng hrder. Feal angr to da metle men. Wth der netz. But da pak stronge. We fite we kilz dem. Onli 1 hand of da pak left, da rest gon. Dey was week. Us srong. We surviv.

Bobby B.

Day 7: survivor's log. I've begun to think of myself as 'Bubbah' even in my own mind. Sometimes I find myself struggling to remember a time before this, my name, and those of my family grow distant to me. Violence seems to seep into me, becoming more and more my first choice in adversity. I witnessed one, Kurt, growling like a beast at his reflection in a pane of glass... I am ashamed to write, that my first instinct was to support my pack-mate in destroying this copy-thing. It was only after, my hands bleeding from innumerable cuts did some semblance of sanity return to me. What is happening to us? I feel we've been In this hell for years, not days.... my god.... it has only been days right? My beard growth says otherwise. Weeks at least. We've lost one of the survivors, and I... I cant recall their name. What was my name? I can only recall having been Bubbah. That's my name. Bubbah. I've always been Bubbah.

Bobby B.

Day 4: survivor's log. The locals seem tribal at best, completely feral at worst. I've begun building the persona of 'bubbah' as a means of blending in. Beyond all expectations, I've been welcomed into the innermost circle of the tribe, the so-called 'Nexus' there are three others in the circle I'm quite sure are also outsiders like me, trying to blend in. Kurt, Ike, Droxius are the names they gave. Aliases like mine I'm sure, but one, the girl, Lazzy, I'm sure is a local, the feral glint in her madened, deranged, eyes gives her away. I fear for my continued sanity as the days drag on.