First Entry Edit

We've been in this bunker for days. At this point, I'm not quite sure how long. My men are scared, as is my wife. I've done my best to lead them, to take care of them, and to give them hope, but it feels so pointless. Our enemies have been bombing us for ages. They never stop, even though, to the world, we are dead. I tried my best for my nation, for my people, yet everything went wrong. I don't know how this happened. Where did we make mistakes? What could we have done to stop this? Was it our stratigies? Our plans? Was our technology not enough, or our troops undertrained? Did I fail my people or was this beyond my control? I do not know.

The men report "sounds" now and then, things right outside their line of vision, your standard ghost stories. I'm sure it's nothing but the enclosed spaces and their fear playing tricks on them. Still, sometimes I do wonder. Things sometimes seem out of place, moved to the wrong spot. Sometimes I wake up at night, scared and feeling watched, but I do not know why. Still, soon we hope to have a way out of here, and things should be better. That's what I'm hoping. Settle down, have a family, in peace. I want to escape this nightmare. I've decided to start this journal, as a way to relieve my stress. I'd rather paint, but there's nothing interesting to paint in this place.

Second Entry Edit

It's been several days, and still no progress. The old bunker, where we supposedly killed ourselves, has been taken, and we've lost the war. Still, this bunker is secure, other than the so-called spirits. I figured my men for sturdier stuff than this. We're always on alert, worried about being found and tortured, and then possibly executed. I say possibly because I know my enemies, and they have no mercy. They've bombed civilians, destroyed entire cities that have no tactical advantage, just to make us scared. We put on a brave front, but it worked. My allies have surrendered, and all that we have left is this one hole in the ground. I'm constantly doing my best to fight off mutiny, to keep spirits high, no pun intended. Still, little works. My wife fears we will never escape this place, and while I tell her we will, I too share her fear.

Third Entry Edit

The men continue to report strange sightings and sounds. I've increased security around the entrance, but nothing stops the reports. I do not believe these to be enemy agents. Recently, I found a device that I can't identify. It's just a small black rectangle, about an inch thick. It was sitting on the floor. One part appears to be made of glass, but the rest is steel and plastic. Nothing we've done makes any difference with it, and nobody has the slightest idea what it is. I can't help but fear it, but am also curious. I've locked it in a safe, until I can possibly have someone test it further. Still, that is quite a long time from now. We still have no plan to escape, although the bombing has stopped. In the meantime, we continue to live like rats in a cage, trying our best to ration our food. I've considered sending men out to try to get supplies while in disguise, but there's too much of a risk. If I went, once again, the risk is too high, and I'm far too scared to send my wife out, armed or not. So, we live with rations and bottled water.

Fourth Entry Edit

One of the men turned up dead in his bunk today. We don't know what killed him. There's no sign of poison, no stab wounds or gunshots, and no other evidence of attack. It's like his heart just turned off overnight. The others are scared. I am too. The reports still come in, strange sights and sounds. Nobody knows what's going on, and we're all on edge. Arguments happen more, tempers are high. Nobody knows what's going on. Reports from the outside confirm, we have lost the war. We don't know what to do. Some want to surrender, to give ourselves up. They're more scared of what's in here than the enemies we know. Whatever may be in here.

Fifth Entry Edit

More have been turning up dead. One per night. I'm starting to fear the worst. I'm starting to fear it's a countdown. I know that sounds paranoid, and impossible, but it feels like it. There's no way there's anyone hiding in here. It's a dull, gray structure, hardly a space where one could live in secret for a hundred and one days. A hundred and one days is what I'd have, starting from the first death, if it was a countdown. My one hundred best, along with myself and my sweet... please no. I'd rather be taken by this demon than wake up beside her body. I hope I'm wrong, and that there's an explanation for this.

Sixth Entry Edit

More have died, as usual. We've checked the air systems, and all is normal with the air. Even if it wasn't, there's no way only one person could die per night, with shared rooms. So, we still have no explanation. More unexplained items have been found as well, various little objects. One was some toy, a yellow, black and red rodent on a keychain. I've never seen a creature like it, nor a keychain with such perfect craftsmanship. Once upon a time, we would have tried to uncover how to make such perfect steel, and yet now, all we can do is live in fear. It's strange, such an item not being valued by its owner. One would expect something worth so much to be guarded with the life of its owner. Yet no attempt has been made to uncover it. There's some text on it in English, but it seems not to be of any importance.

Seventh Entry Edit

The latest death, the twenty-fifth, has been more brutal. His neck was broken. Gone is the subtle death of undetermined causes. Furthermore, the exit has been destroyed. There is no way out now. We have no way to contact the outside world, a safety precaution to prevent one traitor from bringing us all down. It's like whatever is in here is toying with us, taunting us with our helplessness. We've searched every nook and cranny. We've checked every vent, every box and every bed. Nowhere is any intruder. Tonight, myself and some of my best men are going to watch the dorms, to see if we can catch them in the act. We've informed nobody, not even my wife knows. We hope to catch this person, possibly a traitor, and put a stop to this slaughter.

Eighth Entry Edit

We're no closer to stopping whoever, no, whatever is doing this. The stakeout failed, a man died, another broken neck, and we don't know how. It was in the room I was watching, and I failed to catch whatever is behind this. As soon as I heard the snap, I triggered the lights. Nothing was there. Whatever broke his neck either was already gone, or invisible. I do not know which is a more terrifying thought. We're going to keep trying, this time with sacks to try to catch the killer. If it is invisible, it is not intangible, I hope. We're going to do everything in our power to survive. We will triumph. Our will demands it.

Ninth Entry Edit

Another night, another failure, another death. We were ready for it, but it was ready for us. Either it got away immediately, or it is both invisible and intangible. Today, we're turning to more supernatural means to attempt to stop this. Any religion we can and any ritual we can, we're using. We've salted every doorway, with orders not to damage the salt spread to the terrified troops. We've done exorcisms, blessings, prayed to as many gods and goddesses we could. We've invoked more names than any of my men had known were worshiped around this world. We've done everything we can in every faith we can, desperately trying to survive. Sometimes, I feel like the clocks get louder, and the ticking makes my head hurt. My time is running out, it feels, and I am scared.

Tenth Entry Edit

It was all for naught. Tonight, another man died. Nothing we did stopped this entity. Among the men, tales of all kinds are told. Demons, specters, monsters. Some speak of The Tall Man, an old legend. I do not believe it. Death can come for us, but we will not give up. We have to fight. Above all, we might fight. It's the only option we have. Still, I must keep calm. My men expect me to be a symbol. A symbol of everything we are supposed to be. I cannot show fear, except to those closest to me. Tonight, none shall sleep, and we shall all stay in one room. Perhaps none will die.

Eleventh Entry Edit

I have not written in weeks. The only way I know the passage of days is by the deaths. Sometimes, I don't sleep for days. I drink, I smoke, I do everything I can not to sleep. I do not know when it may come for me, whatever it may be, but I'm scared. I have not show my face around the troops recently, as few of them as there are. I don't think it matters anymore. Nothing we do matters anymore. We have lost. Over time, the deaths got more brutal. Every twenty-five. At twenty-five, as I wrote, the necks were broken. At fifty, the heads were removed and placed on their laps. At seventy-five, we stopped finding the heads, and they were opened up for the world to see. When we tried to not sleep, a death still happened. We still failed. Nothing we do matters.

Twelfth Entry Edit

I lost her today. I lost my beloved. My worst fears have come true. I am the last in this bunker. The last of my once glorious army. I'm the last one alive, and it's going to kill me next. I'm going to die, and I know it. I found her... everywhere. I don't know where to begin. I wish I could give her a burial. I wish I could say goodbye, but I can't. I can't leave, and there is nothing I can do. Nothing I do will make a difference. Nothing anyone did made a difference. Rituals, prayer, action, all of it failed. I thought myself a great leader, a hero for my people. I lead us out of economic destruction into a glorious era. Yet, I'm going to die, lost and alone in this bunker. Forgotten by all. None even know we're here. There's no records of the location. There's no way out. I'm stuck, afraid and alone. I don't know what to do with these last few hours. I've begun to paint, one last time. Good or bad, I do not care. I just want to leave something behind in here. Something that isn't death and carnage.

Thirteenth Entry Edit

If you're reading this, know that the man who wrote the entries above deserved all he got, as did everyone else. I do not know when, or if this will be found. I'm writing this in 1945, although it is not my own year. We discovered this man, the retched dictator Adolf Hitler, escaped his presumed death, and so I was sent back to follow and track him to where he really went. Knowing that he was never seen nor heard from again, I decided to punish him my own way. I was, after all, ordered to terminate him. They never gave me details on how to do it. So, if this is found before 2115, please cover it all up. The time paradox you'll cause if the word gets out may destroy the entire universe. Honestly, we don't really know. We just know we don't want to find out, so we do our best to avoid them. As far as we know, none have happened yet, and everything is still okay, so it's working. Goodbye, and if this is found after my time, good luck. May peace and prosperity triumph over brutality.

PosthumanHeresy (talk) 05:42, February 14, 2015 (UTC)

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