The Beginning

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The Beginning is a creepypasta credited to a writer called "Father Crow".

The Story

I have to write this down for future generations. That is, if there IS a future for us. Since I couldn't find a pen in that bookstore I've been using a hollowed bone filled with fresh blood. It's getting hard to come by this nowadays. This'll tell you of how humans and I have ended up like this; in a barren wasteland without a sky or life. It began as an average day, the kids playing in the yard and the wife watching some tv with the husband. Everyone, even me, enjoying a utopian life when something dreadful happens. Somewhere in New York a blinding light fills the sky and mere seconds later, their skin is eaten away, their blood boils, their possessions melting. The fire and the concussive push arrive soon, suddenly blasting every standing thing into bits. And then... the pull. Dust, debris, and bodies flying towards the center of the explosion.

No one knows who.

No one knows why.

The U.S. didn't know how to respond from such a sudden attack. They didn't know who to bomb back. Then, another bomb landed in Chicago. They tracked it to Europe and, in blind rage, they bombed each country holding nuclear devices. You could imagine how they responded. Within a day or two, the entire world was suffering from a nuclear holocaust. It really didn't help when old Yellowstone Park erupted, sending ash and fumes into the air. No one could step outside without dying from something in the air. The waters, even the oceans, were poisoned with fallout; the food supply fell dramatically. Almost ironically, people had riots from New York, New York to Hollywood, California. People react so negatively to sudden crisis. But, eventually, I had to venture out for food covered in bundles of coats and a ski mask. I settled with seven other people (A father and son, a wife and husband, a guy named Dustin, and two brothers) in the local Wal-Mart. We constantly sanitized the entire interior and barricaded doors as well as windows. For the first few weeks we ate the perishables and when most rotted we turned to canned goods. But, even that slowly depleted. Eventually, we began to fight amongst ourselves. Friend against friend, lover against lover, father against son.... I still remember the latter fight. The father stood over his 12-year-old son, both of them holding a can of fruit salad. The father punched his son on the bridge of his nose and began to brutally ram his sons head into the floor until his head cracked open, spilling his contents over the floor. The others, including the father, came to eat the body. I withheld my self and stuck to a nice can of ravioli and a drink of gatorade. One-by-one we began to disappear by murder, cancer, or suicide. It was me and a woman. She eventually committed suicide out of grief of her husband succumbing to cancer. I ate most of her body and preserved the rest with salt in an ice chest. It was an eternally conflicting idea, but I had no choice.

I wanted to live.

After about 3 days I ran out of food but not water. I prepared to leave that god forsaken place by covering myself in layers of heavy clothing, and a surgical mask and my ski mask, taking with me a broom, an ice chest filled with bottles of water with some cans I found under the aisles. Along with matches, a knife, two garbage bags filled with clothes, and duct tape. Before I ventured into the red haze, I made sure everything was perfectly sealed. During my journey, when I needed rest, I'd stop at a random gas station or house and stock up on supplies if they had anything. Before I slept I took off the top four layers of my clothes and burned them for warmth and put on four new layers. I remember, I was staring into the flames eating a can of vienna sausages and drinking a bottle of water thinking about how hopeless this entire situation seems.

But. I must push on.

Weeks later, continuing my nomadic lifestyle, I found a rotting two-story house, but I decided to try to relax there and catch up on sleep, as I wasn't sleeping well. Nightmares and all. The door was gone and so covered it with some cushions after sweeping the ash out with my cheap broom. Afterwards, I proceeded to seek out any canned goods and water. I ran out of food in what my mind presumes was the day before. I'd opened a food pantry and was overwhelmed with the dreadful smell of rotting human flesh. I covered my mouth and nose and tried to make out something in the darkness.

Two skeletons.

Two skeletons with bits of rotted flesh hanging from the feet and ribs. I slammed the door and started gagging. But, above, I heard creaks. I was incredibly alert, hearing every footstep. It sounded like some grown man attempting to sneak down the hall. Or a small child not picking up their feet. I slid my knife from a pocket I'd made in my sleeve and creeped towards the stairs, holding the knife at a slight angle, the knife on its side. The footsteps were walking towards the stairs. As soon as I saw movement, I jumped out holding the knife as steadily as I could. (I was a bit scared at the time). It was....

A girl.

I must've either frightened her badly or she was absolutely starving. She'd fainted and fell down the flight of stairs with sickening cracks. She landed facedown with her arms and legs sprawled out in an uneasing display. I slide closer to her, thinking it might be a trap. (You never know). I thought she was dead at first but I heard her breathing heavily. Her left arm was bented in ways I thought I'd never see. I couldn't kill her and eat her without leaving with horrible grief. I may be desperate but I wouldn't kill another for sustanence. So, I searched around the house and found a basement with a huge locker with "MEDICAL SUPPLIES" pushed into the grey metal. Thankfully, I found an arm brace and splint. As well as bandages, gauze, antibacterial gel, antibiotics, and even some water bottles and MREs. I tried my best to set her arm right (I'd never done it before). I think I did it right though, she didn't scream in pain when she woke up on her bed with lead blankets over her. Before introductions, I handed her some canned peas and a bottle of water. She gave a strange look and then glanced at the food. I gently nodded my head and made a gesture like 'go ahead.' She slowly ate at first and gradually started swallowing two spoonfuls at a time. Afterwards, we gave introductions. Her name was Amy. She was 15. Her father was a dentist and her mother worked in an office. They were over protective of her, she'd told me. But, while they were getting supplies from the car, they'd inhaled too much ash. They died in the living room. And she pushed their bodies into the kitchen closet. She lived off of ravioli and water for at least a week and ran out of supplies around a day before I came. She obviously didn't know of the locker in the basement. Why or how, I'll never know. After what I think was a night's rest, I prepared to leave. I took her with me. I couldn't let some 15 year-old girl die of starvation when I could save her. We walked out the back door carrying 3 lead blankets. Heavy? Yes, but it's worth it to survive longer. And now, I'm here, writing in this journal while eating canned spaghetti with some water. Amy is eating canned corn with some gatorade I found in this refrigerator. We've taken shelter in a multi-story building for now for some company called SHA. We've seen signs of human activity lately. I'm not sure if this is a good sign or an omen. Hopefully we can make it through. Hopefully Amy can see the rise of humanity. That's all that's been fueling my motives ever since I've found her, it seems....

Hope.

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