A deep, long crack stretches its way down the quiet, deserted road, the only sound is the groan of a crow in the distance. As far as the eye can see is tall leaning skyscrapers, all creaking and threatening to topple over like dominos. New York is empty. The beep of horns and rumble of city traffic has ceased. Even the mice have stopped squeaking. The head of The Statue Of Liberty lies on the ground, 500 ft from where it is supposed to be. 

A fox snuffles, knocking over a bin. This silence is eerie, almost like there was never any noise, this is a silence that sends a lonely chill down your spine, and makes you shiver like nothing anybody has ever experienced before. You could have tasted the coldness in the air, smelt the rubble lying on the ground. Everything is on the edge here. Pigeons don’t cloud the sky and rats don’t scuttle around the alleyways. Everything is quiet. Everything is waiting. But for what, nobody knows.

Dear Diary,

Day three

So much for the city that never sleeps it feels like this city has always been dormant. As I stand here looking at what has become of this once perfect place. The animals run around looking in trash cans and scurrying around. In the distance I can see the statue of liberty's head 500 feet from its home. It has only been three days but it feels like it has been forever. A while ago I started to go and look for food and water. (PS: It is a lot harder than it seems.)

Day 5

Sorry I didn’t write yesterday. I was busy looking for food. After the earthquake and tsunami there is nothing left but me and the animal as everyone either died, went missing, were injured or fled. As I watch them run down alleyways and scavenging for food my stomach longs for more. I have begun taking food out of the trash and getting a stick to dig for food. But no matter what I do I still want more. By now everything has grown moss so it looks like it has been longer than it has been. I am 100 percent sure I am the only one left.

Day One

The noise has turned to silence. Life has turned to nothing. From what I can see, no life, but neither is there dead bodies. New York. Once, it was full of life, full of angry drivers beeping their horns and cursing under their breath. That has changed. As I run from invisible horrors, scrambling around to get supplies and shelter, I find the terror close in on me, wrapping me in its depths, it forces me to see the fear in my head. I am blinded by the settling dust. The silence making me more alert than I thought possible.

Day Two

All the shops seemed to already be raided, but tinned food still remains. It looks like somebody has got here first though, making me think that there could be somebody else out there. Could they help me? Would we battle it out for the supplies? Well, I never thought it would be this easy. The people of New York clearly aren’t as clever as I thought them to be.

Day Three

I feel dizzy, almost ill. I haven’t had water for days. It seems like it has been a year since I last slept. I’m yawning as I write this down. I feel death, I feel the power draining from me. The water supplies are scarce. No bottled water. It hasn’t rained for a month now. The Statue of Liberty is probably doing better than me, and it’s head lies between two office blocks, five hundred feet away from the base of the statue itself! My bed is a sheet that I scavenged from a raided house. I’m exhausted. I must sleep. But one more thing. Where is everybody?

Day Four

If there is anyone, any survivors out there, reading this, there are unspeakable horrors hunting us down. Don’t hesitate. RUN! They will come for you. At the time that you find this, I will probably be dead. They are coming. If you are there, you must go.

Dear Diary,

Life is sheer hell. I haven’t spent a waking moment not pondering and fretting over my increasingly critical condition. All of the time I have spent has merged into one, continuos day. My only company are the solemn, sombre crows that flock on the tops of the decrepit, godforsaken buildings, stark reminders of my imprisonment in this barren wasteland. Heat is rising form the crevice in Stuyvesant Street, so sheltering there is no longer an option. Sights of the fiery devil and his hounds are becoming increasingly common. The very vision of the hell hounds plague my brain, and obliterates my false sense of security and safety, with their crimson eyes and rancid spit dripping down their muzzle and on to their matted fur, before falling of the dewlap, and the cruel anthropomorphism of their master, his six limbs ablaze. They are palbably not of this world, universe, reality even. Heaven, what have I done to deserve such torturous servitude to you? What unearthly sin have I committed to be made so crestfallen?

Signed,

James

A sudden crashing sound filled my ears, as quick as lightning. I sped around to see a looming sky-scraper flat on the ground, like a dead body. Horizontal instead of vertical. Everything in this once densely populated city seemed dead. No hustle and bustle of the sidewalks, only lone rats scurried around, searching for forgotten food. Laying just by my worn out eet, was the head of the Statue Of Liberty, like it had been beheaded. 

Bushes had covered  over it like mold and twisting tree roots stuck out of her crown. I looked at my surroundings whilst wondering about how many days I’ve got left. 

Water would run out tomorrow morning, and food ran out yesterday. Would I make it out of this ghost city? Or would I die is these god-forsaken streets? I pushed those thoughts out of my head, wondering would get me no where. 

I had to keep looking, for food, for water, for shelter. Stumbling, I got up, picking up my measly bag of supplies and walked into the distance, into the unknown...