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.