Pages From The Collapse

Five days. It’s been five days since I last wrote anything down. Feels like I’ve lost track of time. Every day is the same, but somehow it feels worse.

Dad’s getting more paranoid. He’s not sleeping. He’s up every night, keeping watch, or so he says. I don’t think it’s the fire or the food he’s worried about anymore—it’s something else, something outside. Last night, I caught him staring out into the dark for hours, like he was waiting for something. When I asked him what was wrong, he just muttered, “They’ll come eventually.”

I don’t know who “they” are. I’m not even sure he knows anymore.

The noises haven’t stopped, either. They’re louder now. It’s not just rumbling. It’s like… voices. Low, but there. I hear them at night, like they’re drifting on the wind. Sometimes it sounds like they’re coming from far off, other times it feels like they’re right outside the window. Matt keeps telling me it’s nothing, but I don’t believe him. He’s scared too—I can see it in his eyes.

We’ve barricaded most of the windows now. Dad insisted on it after hearing something close by. He didn’t say what it was, just told us all to get inside and help block the doors and windows. It’s making the house feel even more claustrophobic. Like we’re sealing ourselves in with whatever’s coming for us.

Food’s running out again. We’ve only got a few tins left, and water’s becoming a problem. We’ve been rationing, but there’s only so much we can stretch it. Matt and Jade want to make another supply run, but Dad’s against it. Says it’s too dangerous now, that “things have changed.” But if we don’t go soon, we won’t have a choice.

Hannah… I don’t know what’s going on with her. She’s even more distant now, barely talking, even to me. I tried to get her to open up, but she just looks through me like I’m not even there. I asked her if she’s scared, but she just said, “It’s already here, Nick. We just haven’t seen it yet.” I don’t know what she means. Maybe she’s just losing it like the rest of us.

Mum’s trying to keep everyone calm, but I can tell she’s struggling. She barely speaks to Dad anymore, and I think she’s starting to worry he’s losing it. Hell, maybe we all are.

There’s tension between the group again, worse than before. Jade snapped at Matt earlier when he suggested checking a nearby farm for supplies. She accused him of wanting to leave us behind. They argued for ages before Dad shut it down. It’s like we’re all waiting for something to happen, but no one knows what.

The weirdest thing, though, is the birds. Or the lack of them. I only just realised it today—there haven’t been any birds for days. No crows, no sparrows, nothing. It’s like they know something we don’t, like they’ve fled before whatever’s coming. I mentioned it to Dad, but he just stared at me, didn’t say a word.

I don’t know how much longer we can last like this. The farmhouse feels more like a prison now, and the longer we stay, the more I wonder if we’re making a mistake by not leaving. But where would we even go? It feels like no place is safe anymore.

The world outside has gone silent, but it’s not a peaceful silence. It’s the kind you get before something bad happens. I can feel it in the air.

We can’t stay hidden forever. Sooner or later, we’re going to have to face whatever’s out there.

-Nick