I’ve found a cave I can use for shelter. It’s dry and surprisingly warm, and I’m alone here. There’s enough light to write at the moment, but darkness is coming. I’ll make a fire soon. Maybe tomorrow I’ll move on.
Yesterday wasn’t my first day here, but it was the first day I wrote something down. I think it’s been a couple weeks now. I didn’t think it would be this long.
This journal was a dumb idea. I have nothing to say.
I should leave. I can’t stay here forever.
Something came into the cave today. It stayed at the entrance, but I think it knew I was here. I’m not sure what it was. I was too afraid to move. But what if it was a person?
It was back today. I called out this time, but there was no response. I’m sure something was in the cave though, even if there were no footprints outside.
It comes into the cave every night. It might be in here right now. I should leave.
It’s waiting for me. The dark. It is the dark. The end. It won’t let me go.
Story by Gregory M. Fox