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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Hobosam21 on 2024-11-08 20:54:54+00:00.


I had people ask me about the journal I found on my last journey. I had no intention of sharing its contents because it’s author was not worthy of The Lot. But seeing as no one has the courage to join me for my next voyage to the new world I shall share the writings. Maybe it will inspire someone else to seek the treasure waiting us.

Here below is the contents of the book I obtained.

I’ve never been much of a writer. Never been much of anything really, I lived my life one ordinary day at a time.

I would say I was nearly an NPC. Weeks would go by without a change in my routine, I was living the life I thought I needed to. And it was a total waste, those dreams and ambitions are gone now.

I should probably start at the beginning. Damn that sounds cliché but I’m writing in pen and I’m not going to scribble it out. You would think I would plan out what I’m going to write, but that’s just not how I do things so instead you get my ramblings.

My name is Chuck, I’m a six foot one white guy who graduated middle of my class. I’ve been working a fairly dead end job as an online retailer for three years.

That all changed when I found myself in this pocket dimension. At least that’s what I’m assuming it is, I have no idea as to what’s going on but alternate universe seems like as good an explanation as any.

Like any other Tuesday or Thursday I was at the gym. When you sit for a living you have to keep moving in your off time. It was late, I had taken my sweet time showering.

I would kill for a shower right now.

So I walked out of the building, my mind on other things and I couldn’t seem to find my car.

And it was dark, there wasn’t a single street light or building within sight. I reasoned that the power must be out, I kept clicking my key fob.

My brain filled my ears with faint ringing in an attempt to comprehend the silence. Fear coursed through me, I knew something was horribly wrong.

But when I turned to run back into the gym I found myself looking out over an endless expanse of metal humps.

Every direction I turned showed more of the same. As animal instinct took over, I started to run.

I ran and I ran, there was no end. It wasn’t long before I collapsed, it was both impossible and undeniable. I was no longer in Boulder.

I screamed for help until my voice grew weak. I wandered back and forth looking for some glitch, some portal between worlds.

The sun rose on the first day, it’s light revealing just how absolutely screwed I was. I couldn’t see an end, cars stretched on for dozens of miles. Rolling hills covered in black top and vehicles.

The pattern was unbroken in every direction, an open lane, a car, a car and another open lane. No light poles, no flowerbeds. I almost felt dizzy, like my brain couldn’t comprehend the sheer vastness of this place.

Despite it’s familiar appearance it felt wrong, twisted and distorted. This place wasn’t good, I wasn’t meant to be here.

I had to shake away those thoughts on order to survive, if I focused on them I could imagine my body changing into something else. Something wrong.

I reasoned that my best shot at escaping was to remain as close to the beginning as possible. If I had accidently entered perhaps I could accidentally exit. It was a flawed yet comforting logic.

It only took a couple hours before I started to loot vehicles. After all, they were either not real, or the damage would lead to someone discovering me.

I even tried to hotwire a dozen or so vehicles, but without Google I was just blindly connecting wires. Only one started but then I could steer it. So I burnt it and pissed on its corpse.

I found myself growing accustom to the life of looting and vandalizing. There was this one time I had a chain reaction of burning cars get out of hand, but the fear made me feel alive again.

After a week I had exhausted the resources in the area, I had to move on to fresh pastures.

That’s when the first curve ball got me. After sleeping in a new area I remembered I had left a tool bag behind. I went to retrieve it but all the cars were in pristine condition. And they were different, my dozens of smashed and burnt cars were gone. Replaced by new vehicles

At the time I thought this meant infinite resources. It took a few more weeks for me to realize time moved forward. The cars didn’t spawn, not like I had thought.

Rather than rendering as I moved forward they appeared to have already been here. But at the same time it was like things hadn’t started to age until I arrived. At first this didn’t bother me, but I soon realized this meant fresh food would soon be spoiled.

I had found so many center consoles filled with rotten fruit but it took finding a moldy granola bar, my most common staple for me to worry about surviving.

The fun had left once I thought about starving to death. I needed to get out. It had been over a month and nothing positive had happened.

So I decided to push forward. I spent a long time figuring it out but I finally got an older GMC van to fire up. It took a ton of effort but I managed to break the steering lock. With all but the drivers seat removed I had plenty of room inside for supplies and sleeping.

I barreled between the cars at a reckless speed. Quite often pushing 90mph, the little humps became ramps that would send me into the air for a brief second.

I found myself thoroughly enjoying the drive. The near death moments just made me feel alive. That was until I clipped the back of a pickup that was poking out a little farther than expected.

The van spun with the impact and I felt myself leave the seat. Before I could react the van was flipping. At first sideways and then end over end.

It happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to register what was happening. I found my self sitting on the asphalt bleeding from a dozen small cuts. My van lay on top of a 90’s Thunderbird it’s wheels still spinning.

When the pain hit I knew what to do. No matter the distance traveled there was always a truck somewhere nearby that would undoubtedly have alcohol in it.

This time was no different. It took a full case of shitty beer to numb my injuries but at last I was able sleep.

I spent a good bit of time in that area. I hadn’t broken any bones but my entire body hurt. I took the time to carefully recover and to get in some exercise.

The food situation was getting worse but it was not lethal yet.

Two months into my journey I had visitors. I had strung my cobbled together hammock between two vehicles and was sleeping comfortably when something woke me.

I lay still listening, my instincts told me I wasn’t alone. Sure enough I soon heard the slap of hard flesh on asphalt.

Someone nearby was running barefoot. I sat up and came face to face with a grinning man. My eyes were drawn to his blackened teeth. Without warning he lunged forward.

The hammock spun under our combined weight sending him over me. I had barely gotten my feet under me when he turned. His face now bloodied from its impact with the ground.

He moved to grapple me but met my fist instead. I gasped in pain, I had never punched someone without gloves and head gear before. I should have held back a little.

The blow knocked the crazed man onto the ground again. He was spitting blood and growling in an uncivilized manner. Rather than let him gain his footing I kicked the back of his head.

And then I repeated that action until he lay still.

Breathing heavily I leaned against the nearest car. I looked around me, my blood ran cold.

There had to have been half a dozen people watching me. They were dirty, scarred and mostly nude. But most of all, they were hungry.

I could see it in their eyes. I was nothing more than a Christmas ham to them.

With their intent clear I slowly reached down, I managed to get my hand into my tool bag before the first pair sprinted towards me.

They were so quiet, the only sound they made was slapping of feet and the grinding of teeth.

My hand wrapped around the smooth handle of my 2.5 pound hammer. Taking a risk I grasped it firmly and pulled it from the bag. In a single movement I threw it at the nearest attacker.

My throw was good, the hammer nearly disappeared into the man’s forehead and he dropped instantly. Before I could grab the next tool the second man was on me.

I grabbed him and using his own momentum I tossed him over my hip into a nearby car. He struck it hard leaving a dent in the door.

But unlike his companion he was back on his feet in a flash. I managed to drop an elbow through his collar bone as he grappled me. With his left arm limp it was easy break free. I kick to the chest sent him tumbling over a car.

That was enough for him, he turned and ran into the night.

I spun around in case the others had decided to attack but I was once again alone. Save for the two bodies that lay motionless.

I grabbed my tool bag, retrieved my hammer and walked away.

That attack changed things, I traveled by night more often. At least when I had flashlights to see with. Those people returned a few more times, each time I was able to fend them off with my homemade weapons.

My walking stick now had a blade secured to the top. I also fashioned a short club and carried a knife in my belt. The weapons didn’t add much weight and were very effective on human flesh.

But my attackers grew more cunning. I noticed a change after a week, they went from barely human savages to more stealthy people with some clothing.

They di...


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