Today, after having spent a sleepless night in captivity anxiously awaiting the dawn and my near certain demise at the rotting hands of a re-animated corpse, I was brought before the zombie overlord. He was actually quite pleasant for a decaying shell of a once human being.

He introduced himself and immediately apologized for the condition of my living arrangements the night before, then got out his soap box and proceeded to boast about his tribe of zombies and their unique approach to collecting brains and flesh. Other zombies, he claimed, were so uncivilized, what with all the wandering about moaning and crying out for their "braaaaains". It was such an impersonal experience, he explained. His tribe, on the other hand, went to all this effort to meet me personally, to really get to know me.

At this point, he allowed me the opportunity to tell him a bit about myself and my life thus far, and presented me with a selection of various fruits and other wild edibles, for which I was truly grateful. He even arranged a little dance in my honor, which was performed by two female zombies who I almost would have considered attractive, if it weren't for the decaying flesh and my imminent demise and all.

Having thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment, the zombie overlord allowed me to finish my meal before summoning two from his tribe to escort me back to my living arrangements, with the promise that he would call on me again shortly.

It was only after returning to my living arrangements, leaning back against the cold steel bars which formed its walls, and breathing in again the foul stench of death which penetrated the air all around me and came from the previous occupant, a pile of bones on the dirt floor, that I began to wonder why the zombie overlord went through all this trouble for little old me and, more importantly, how was I going to slaughter the rotten, decaying, flesh-eating brainless corpsified overlord without making him feel like I was just taking advantage of his hospitality.

This, however is a quandary best left for the morning when I am well-rested.


P.S. Send help.

Total disaster. I was captured by the horde of zombies and taken deep into the island where even the sunlight has difficulty reaching.

The week began as any other week: I awoke to the muffled sounds of zombies dragging their feet on the sandy beach outside my hut and the pervasive moaning of their unaware, decaying corpses mindlessly crying out for their "braaaaains". It was all very routine at this point.

I geared up, grabbed my newly improved laser-guided subnuclear auto-targeting ultra-accurate highly effective zombie-killing death ray rubber band guns and left my hut in search of food and fresh water for the week, leaving a trail of inanimate corpses as I went.

As I approached a long abandoned supermarket not far from the beach, I noticed some of the zombies behaving a bit odd for a soulless shell of a human being. They seemed almost gleeful in their predictable but ultimately futile search for brains and flesh. Intrigued, I cautiously approached, rubber band guns at the ready. What happened next was downright frightening, in retrospect and should have been my first clue to turn around and run: They looked at me looking at them, then began to shuffle their way further inland, all the while glancing back at me, almost beckoning me to join them. And join them I very nearly did, until they lead me so deep into the forest beyond the beach that it was as dark as midnight at high noon. They must have sensed my unease, for they had already surrounded me by the time the notion to run had entered my foolish and soon to be eaten brain.

I believe the only reason I am still alive is because they are saving me for their zombie overlord tomorrow. No doubt I will make a tasty lunchtime meal for him. Escape seems impossible. Perhaps I could try reasoning with him. Then again, this just might be the end for me...


P.S. Send help.

The weather finally warmed up today, as the sun came out for the first time in over a week. The zombies scattered off the beach into the dark corners and shadows of the island, leaving me free to walk about and enjoy the sunshine again. It felt warm and comforting against my skin. It's a pity it won't last.

The leaves have begun to vacate their homes in the trees, which prepare for a long winter's slumber. I believe I will have, at most, two more days of nice weather before the skies turn gray and the undead drag their feet across the beach once again.

There are a lot of supplies I should be searching for in this nice weather, but days like today grow rarer still and I can't help but enjoy the brief respit granted to me. Tomorrow I plan to visit a rock outcropping which overlooks much of the island. I noticed it a long time ago but have been unable to reach it since then due to the zombie density in that area. Perhaps tomorrow I'll get lucky. And if luck is indeed on my side, perhaps, from that vantage point, I might finally see the fortifications of another survivor on this island.

But I mustn't get my hopes up. I have held out for what seems like a lifetime with rapidly dwindling supplies in hopes that someone, somewhere receives these messages and comes to look for me. If I can just hold out a little while longer...


P.S. Send help.

Today I came across a well-traveled bag filled with old photography equipment. I took some film and a manual camera, and I've begun to document my exploration of this island and my encounters with the zombies through photographs in addition to these letters. I will stuff a roll of undeveloped film into each bottle, so long as I am able, in hopes that whoever receives the message has the ability to develop it. Perhaps this will, one day, help someone to locate me, hopefully before the zombies get me.

It is becoming increasingly obvious that, without help, I will be unable to survive the attacks much longer. The zombies are hungry and relentless, and I am completely on my own and growing ever more weary of the fight to stay alive. If the thirst doesn't get me, surely the zombies will. If the zombies don't get their rotting hands on my brain, surely I'll lose it instead to insanity.

As I write this message by the light of a candle from within my little hut, with the sound of zombies shuffling their feet on the sandy beach outside, I can't help but reminisce about the past, before the zombies appeared, and wonder what tomorrow holds in store for me. Will they finally overtake me while I am out just trying to collect enough fresh water to survive one more day? Or maybe, just maybe tomorrow's the day I find that I'm not alone on this forlorn island of mine.


P.S. Send help.

In my continuing exploration of this island, I came across a lab where a scientist had been keeping detailed notes on the zombie virus and its various stages of development. After fending off a zombie attack with the recently replenished ammo supplies for my atomic-powered rapid-fire anti-zombie rubber band gun, I only had time to grab a single journal, which I brought with me back to my hut to read in safety.

What I learned from reading the journal was fascinating. Apparently, it is some evolutionary quirk which gave me my immunity to the zombie virus. The universe, it seems, is trying to maintain balance and, for reasons I can't even begin to fathom, it thinks I'm a good candidate for this gift.

I'm not sure if this knowledge helps or not. For the moment at least, I am more confused than ever. I find myself just wishing for a friendly face, for another survivor out there on this island of the rotting undead. Hope is in short supply, as is fresh water. Tomorrow I continue the search for both.


P.S. Send help.

Today, when the zombies were momentarily distracted by the rising tide, I snuck out of my fortified hut and ventured inland towards the town. I tiptoed through the barren streets until I finally came across a familiar sight: An atomic-powered supersonic can't-believe-it's-not-butter zombie-killing rubber band death ray turret! Someone must have gotten the blueprints I sent out in a bottle, but who? I thought I was the last survivor on this island.

I ventured nearer and came upon a group of survivors sitting around a card table, sharing a meal. They invited me over and we got to talking about all sorts of things. We talked about the mail turtles, the mysterious beach fires, and the countless undead. It was remarkable to sit and have a real conversation that didn't abruptly end with a cry for an hourly "brrraaaaiinns" fix. I was actually enjoying myself for the first time in two hundred and fourteen days.

And then I woke up.

The zombies still moan and drag their feet outside my hut, food and fresh water supplies continue to dwindle, and there's not another soul in sight.


P.S. Send help.

In Reply To:

I love you more than anything else in the world, I love you sooooooooooooooooo much you have no idea

2+2*2=6

In Reply To:

Nearly all units were sent your way. A surprise weather assault rendered some obsolete. I suspect that near 10 of the units survived unharmed. But they have been delayed another day. Best of wishes.

In Reply To:

There is someone else in this island as well? I landed here a couple of days ago... I was pirating the seas and got caught up in a storm, next thing I knew I washed up ashore.

I wandered around, but found no one, then I heard some rustling in the bushes, I thought he was human, but I was sorely mistaken... I took a cooler and smacked him across the face after he pounced on me. I ran... I'm hiding under a harbor...

In Reply To:

Reinforcements are on the way! Look to the horizon the day after tomorrow and you shall see air support.

The zombies are relentless. I haven't been able to leave my hut in months. Their continual attacks have certainly taken their toll, but today I reached my breaking point. Today I went on the offensive.

I grabbed my rubber band gun and as much ammo and supplies as I could carry and I threw myself at the zombies. I followed the beach, eliminating those filthy, rotting corpses along the way. I must have taken out hundreds of them before they finally horded together and overwhelmed me. I had to take cover.

Tonight, I call a tall lifeguard watchtower home.


P.S. Send help.

I barely got any sleep last night. The hungry growling zombies are getting louder each night and they have started to build an immunity to my rubber band gun.

My automated defense sentry is nearly ready for deployment, but I fear I will need to find new ammunition.


P.S. Send help.

In Reply To:

Night creatures crawl and the dead start to walk in their masquerade

I had completely lost track of time. In my thirst-induced delirium, I had come to believe several weeks had past when, in fact, several months have.

I finally caught a break today when a half-full emergency canteen washed ashore. I got to it before the zombies and immediately regained some sense. I have to get back to work repairing my atomic-powered ultra-compact MacGyver-influenced zombie-killing death-ray rubber band gun while I am still lucid. Who knows when they might attack again.


P.S. Send help.

In Reply To:

(iPhone Emoji icons)

My atomic-powered ultra sonic zombie-killing death ray rubber band gun is out of rubber bands again. I've resorted to throwing sand in the faces of zombies intruding into my hut looking for a quick meal. They really don't like it when you do that.

Also, I was finally saved today. At long last, I had everything I'd ever needed and I was fully satisfied. It was amazing, right up until the moment I realized it was all a dream and woke up.


P.S. Send help.

The zombies are relentless. Just because I'm different—not a zombie—they feel they have to eat my brains. If you ask me, that's not very kind.

Everybody has a right to the life they choose. Take this mail-carrying turtle, for instance. I bet his turtle buddies mock him all the time. How horribly cruel!

Me, I just want to relax and enjoy the beach. Unfortunately, the serene surroundings are constantly being interrupted by some zombie crying out for his "brrraaaaaaainns!"

I just can't take much more of this. Food supplies are running low too. Hardly any drinkable water either.


P.S. Send help.

The fierce hunger and the subtle bragging of those on distant shores where wild game is rich and plentiful has begun to take its toll. I dreamt of chicken last night. Endless fields of roasted chicken. I ran out of my hut and threw myself at the nearest chicken to catch a meal, but it crumbled between my fingers. It was a sand chicken.


P.S. Send help.

The morning sun on this island brings with it an incredible heat. My exploration of the far side of the island has been cut short as my thirst grows insatiably.

I have returned to my hut to continue preparations for what I fear is an imminent attack. Having seen no sign of the tourists who left their litter all over this beach, I can only assume they have all been turned into zombies.


P.S. Send help.

In Reply To:

I'm off work sick. It's so ironic that one your one day at home, you can't do anything to enjoy it as your ill.

I would do some reading but my headache is excruciating.

Have you any ideas as to how I may entertain myself today?

It's surprising just how lonely it gets on a deserted island. I spent most of the day rummaging through the things left behind by the tourists when they mysteriously vanished.

I never liked tourism much. It always upset me to see people charging admission to see a piece of nature. What's even worse is that people feel they must pay to see such things.

Tonight I intend to hold a great feast for my turtle friend and I, for I have found a Snickers bar left in a purse!


P.S. Send help.

My efforts to create an anti-zombie ray from two coconuts, the elastic from my underwear, and a banana have failed. I fear the worst is yet to come.


P.S. Send help.

I've wandered this beach for days now and haven't seen a single bottle of substance yet. The last one asked if I was from Texas. How the @$#?! should I know?? I'm lost!

The thirst is unbearable.


P.S. Send help.

Today the zombies made their first attack. I held them off as best as I could, throwing sea shells and broken bottles at them. I even hurled the turtle at them but they still kept coming! Thankfully I awoke just as they lit fire to my hut. I think I'll ease off the coconut milk.


P.S. Send help.

I stitched together a hammock from palm leaves today, only to walk out onto the beach and notice one already strung between two trees. Darn tourists.

I think I've befriended a seagull. Maybe he can help me get off this island.


P.S. Send help.

That was a rough night. A storm passed through and got sand all up in my hut. The seagulls have returned, though so it looks to be over. I think today I'll try to build a raft. Have you ventured out to sea yet?


P.S. Send help.

I had a four course meal today. It was very coarse and grainy. If only I could find a way to mask the sandy taste.

...I've never had turtle before. But how will I receive replies? Have you eaten your turtle yet?


P.S. Send help.

I think I could survive here. I've walked the shore a bit in each direction and so far it seems pretty lifeless. It's almost like everyone dropped what they were doing and left. I hope they didn't turn into zombies, I'm not prepared for that.


P.S. Send help.