The following is an excerpt from a journal written by an unknown author during the events now referred to as the Catacylsm. Although no identity has been established for the author the evidence indicates that he was living at ‘Ground Zero’ prior to the event and during the days following the Catacylsm. Although certain portions of the journal were damaged and are illegible it still gives us insight into what what life was like during this tragic episode of history. The original journal is a maintained in the Imperical Archives, and available for viewing by appointment only.
(image courtesy of nasa.gov)
The only thing worse to me then a Monday night on graveyard shift is spending it with a migraine that hammers in my head like a jack hammer. Of course I only got myself to blame for that. Or Jack Daniels. Either way someone’s gotta take the fault.
I would much rather be with my family watching the meteor shower, God’s fireworks. Or maybe he’s just emptying his cosmic dust bin on us. Either way the TV said it’d be a helluva thing to see. But of course I am stuck in this soul sucking chemical plant. Too much glare from the city lights to see shit in the night sky during my lunch break. Lunch….that’s a joke. It’s midnight and I’m suppose to act like this is what? Noon? I hate working nights, it’s like watching a movie in reverse.
Anyways, my lady’s supposed to be videoing the meteor shower on her phone for me. Just like she videoed our boy’s birthday. And Christmas. Hell, I’m practically a spectator to my own damn family’s life. But somebody gotta pay the bills, cause I sure as hell can’t send them a video of me writing a check.
Don’t know why I’m even writing this, but my therapist said to do so. Said to get my thoughts out rather then bottling them up. It sounds like bullshit to me. How’s writing gonna solve anything? And how much faith such I have in a shrink that has an office that reeks of old body odor and cigarette smoke? Guess writing in this book is better then the alternative though.
Tried calling my lady, but can’t get no service. Nobody in the plant can get a signal. Tried the land line in the break room and it just goes straight to her voicemail. That ain’t like her. Weird. TV is saying a big flash was spotted in the skies over the Reservoir. Lots of folks up there to watch the metor shower. Including my lady and our boy. The Resvoir’s outside town far enough to allow for a good viewing of the stars and such. Police is headed up there to investigate. What the hell is going on up there? The airport ain’t too far from there, was there a crash? And what the hell is going on with these phones? TV don’t say nothing about it.
Everyone’s unsettled at the plant, but the boss don’t care. All he cares about is production. Fuck ’em. I ain’t coming back from lunch. Family takes priority over everything else.
To Be Continued…