Diary of a Recluse

MARCH 5, 2018

I don't know why I'm writing this online. No one will hear it anyway. But... I just need to get it off my chest.

How did I end up in this situation? I made a bet that I could live a year in isolation, in my apartment, without contact with the outside world. I even boarded up the windows with plywood to block any communication. My confinement expired a week ago. But now, it's clear there's no one to collect the promised two million. There are no people left. Not a single one.

Honestly, I don't know what happened. It's all very strange. Everything works—there's water, electricity, internet. But there are no people. There's a homeless person lying in the entryway—but it's just a mannequin in rags. Outside the window, there's a layer of snow twice the height of a man. And this snow will never melt. It's made of plastic.

I tried to break into my neighbors' apartments. I broke down a couple of doors. Right behind the doors, there's a brick wall. It's not that easy to break through. 

I still have enough supplies to last two months. Then I'm dead. I don't even know, maybe it's for the best.

MARCH 7, 2018

I had a dream today. Whales. They were dead. Enormous rotting carcasses lurked in the depths of the ocean, waiting for ships, and then sinking them. Devouring the crew, the passengers.

They're eternally hungry, these dead whales. They eat everything, but they can't digest it. They're dead, after all. But at least they don't have to surface to breathe. Dead people don't need to breathe.

MARCH 12, 2018

The internet works, but there are no people on it. No one communicates on forums or social media. You can't find anyone on ICQ or Skype to answer a message or call.

Television works too. They show movies. And commercials. But there's no news. And no new TV shows either. After all, there's no one to make the news or new shows.

And I dreamed about whales again.

MARCH 19, 2018

At least there's one living creature in this world besides me. It's currently scratching at the walls of my closet. I don't know where it came from. I named it Spider. Strictly speaking, it is a spider. Only it has a human head, and its legs end in childish hands. And it's the size of a dog.

It appeared just as I was about to test whether skiing was possible across the "snow." My skis are in my closet. I opened the door, and Spider suddenly lunged at me, bursting into manic laughter. Now I don't know what to do with it. I guess I'll have to kill it. And it's a shame. Maybe it used to be a person like me. Or maybe it wasn't.

 MARCH 21, 2018

I finally killed the Spider. He has red blood. Like a human. If he was human, I think I put him out of his misery. Tomorrow I'll try testing the skis.

I dream of dead whales almost every night now. I'm sick of it.

MARCH 22, 2018

I chopped the Spider into pieces and threw them down the garbage chute. To test the skis, I need to go down first. I don't know how. Stupid.

APRIL 1, 2018

Everything suddenly fell into place, hallelujah! Of course not. Happy April Fools' Day.

But I managed to make a "door" through the window in the entryway. I can test the skis. It would be a shame if it doesn't work.

APRIL 2, 2018

You can use the skis to walk on "snow." There's just one problem. Whales. They crawled out of my dreams and are now swimming. In the air. Defying, I suppose, all the laws of aerodynamics. Actually, I'm pretty sure what's happening is defying all the laws of anything.

APRIL 5, 2018

This is my last entry. I'm leaving. I doubt I'll survive, but I'd rather die than sit and wait for God knows what.

I'm ready to go. I have enough supplies for two weeks. Then maybe I'll find something.

I hope there's still something decent left somewhere on this planet. The main thing is to avoid the whales. I don't want to get eaten by a dead flying whale. It doesn't eat meat at all. Although, once it's dead, it doesn't care what it eats.

Goodbye, if anyone read this. It doesn't even matter whether you're human or not. I just hope at least someone sees this. Goodbye.