'BLEAK' - BRUTAL SURVIVAL IN A DEAD WORLD

How long has it been since I’ve seen their face. It cant be more then a few weeks but time is such an irrelevant thing now. What was one the everyday or mundane now only remains in the memories of those few still around and this diary. I was a teacher, I was at a conference in the south at the time, myself and a few colleagues had been staying in the local cheap hotel as the conference dragged on. New exams, new criteria and targets. All so pointless. It happened in the night, I don't know why I woke but when I did nothing worked, everything electrical just stopped, the tv, lights even my phone. Those first few hours seemed alien, as if I was waiting to wake up from a dream. As the day came round it started. All the cars, local business, homes, everything had also been affected. Without the reasons why via the internet or media we soon found ourselves in the centre of a scene of looting and violence. Speculation and fear began spreading like wildfire. More and more people began to become dragged into the conflicts erupting from every household. As group we had managed to get back to the conference hall as the city started to burn. Some begged us to return the hotel, others to flee in anyway we could as rational thought degraded. In less then 72 hours the fragile normality of the ‘everyday’ lay dead all around. The 4 of us from the same college managed to get out into the suburbs before military action closed in. Luckily for us our PE teacher had a knack for mechanics and managed to get an old minivan working again. To start with we made good progress before the tank ran dry. At this point the group split, the tension of the last week becoming to much so only myself and James followed the road on foot. I would never see the others again. James and I didn't live to far from each other, he had 2 kids at home Lily and Toby. We travelled for a while, stopping and hiding in what remained of family homes, doing our best to go unnoticed. Whenever we did see other their was 1 of 2 outcomes, fight or flee. James was killed by a middle aged skinny man with a gun. I have seen such terrible things, some by my own hands. If I do make it to them, will they even recognise my face. I’m not sure I would. This diary of sorts has been the only way to keep some small segment of my life going, to be the husband they know. I’m down to my last page now. It seems somewhat poetic that I’ve almost made it back but only to lose the space to write down what will happen next. The first half of this book contains the notes of the conference, marking criteria, dates and term lengths. The second is the story of how the everyday become nothing but ash. Will I see them again? Will I make it back before I run out of space on the page? I guess if you are reading this, then the answer will not matter either way. I hope that you find your own way.