From the journal of Manny Stone, June 9

June 9, 2017

     Thank God, they're getting ready to leave tomorrow. I don't know how much longer we could make it up here without going insane. This morning, instead of the regular after breakfast rape-fest that has been happening so far, the only sound we heard was me going through the rooms downstairs, making sure nothing useful was going to be left behind.

     I made my way to one of the small windows and looked down on the group outside. The men were coming and going, bringing whatever they found in town to take with them and then going back out to look some more. This went on all morning. After watching for a while, I could tell that different groups had been assigned to finding different things. Some were bring back food, others alcohol, others brought back blankets and clothes. A couple of the groups brought back a variety of items and I couldn't tell what their assignment was.

     The women were mostly kept in the RV's while all of this was going on. Occasionally, one woman would be brought out and made to do something. Once, I saw a young teenage girl dragged from an RV and taken to the tent where the senior men were holding a meeting. An hour later, she was carried back, naked and unconscious, to the RV and another girl was brought back to the tent. They did this four times before the last girl was dropped off and no one returned with the guard. Sick fuckers.

     Around noon, all the teams started to come back and none of them left again. Then the one who looks like he's their leader, a giant, dirty man in greasy leather duds, gave a little speech, which we couldn't hear, and then all the men cheered. That's when the booze was broken out and the women were herded out of the RV's and made to prepare food before they could “rest” on their backs the rest of the day and night.

     Lunch was a rowdy meal, there were several fights that broke out and no one tried to stop them. The men would form a circle around the ones throwing punches and then start making bets on who would win. The fight would go on until someone was down and not able to get back up, then the audience would pay up their bets and everyone would go back to eating again. The women would melt into the back ground when the fights began, and on the third one, I saw why. When the bigger guy won, a woman was within his reach. He grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder before taking her back to his tent. Everyone just laughed and no one even tried to stop him. The rest of the woman stayed out of the way, hoping to remain invisible, or as close as they could manage.

     Our building became a brother from the early afternoon and all night long. We huddled together, having whispered conversations and trying to keep each other from going crazy, knowing what was going on below us. I can't even imagine what it's like for the women in our group. To listen to the sounds from below and know that if they find us, you'll be going through the same thing, until you die. They've got to leave and we've got to get out of this attic!

     It's now the middle of the night, probably close to 2 am. I think everyone else is asleep, and I'm thankful for that. About an hour ago, one of the younger, preteen girls was brought into the room directly below us. There had been a steady parade of upper level men from the group coming and going. She hasn't learned yet to stay quiet, so she cries out and they laugh and slap her around. There's more than three men in the room all the time and I really hope our women stay asleep through it all.

     It's really hard to think about how most of these men would have been normal, working professionals before the pandemic hit. They could've been the guy in the cubicle next door or the guy serving you a meal at the local diner. They would've had families and homes and lives before the dead started to rise. Now, they've let themselves go to the evil side and have let the way the world is give them permission to act as sick and twisted as they want to. Nothing is off limits to them, not even child rape. They are sick and should be put down, but there are too many of them and not enough of us to do anything but get ourselves killed and the women enslaved and raped.

     God, I hope someone takes them out. I wish it could be me.

As a writer and artist, I appreciate any readers and their comments. Thank you for taking the time to read this blog. Please, come read the other blog I write for our artisan collective, Raven's Castle Creations, on our website at www.ravencastlecreations.com. It includes posts on art, the mythology of symbols we use in our art, history and more! Also, come see the art we produce in our Etsy store at etsy.com/shop/RavenCastleCreations. Follow us on Twitter at @ravencastleart and on Facebook at @ravencastlecreations.