May 29, 2014
As of right now, and on into the foreseeable future, this journal is the one thing holding me from insanity. The tiniest grip keeping me from a fall into oblivion, the last match in the darkness of the unknown.
Avrie Latta, is my name. And I am alone...
Two days ago, I was standing firmly on third base. It was the last inning and the scores were tied. It was up to me and this last hitter to get home and win us the game, and win us the championship.
As the last man up to bat, Jackie, stepped up to the plate, I scooted towards home until my foot was barely on the base.
Jackie's real name was Lucas Robinson, but we called him Jackie because he was by far the best player on our team.
He twisted his hands around the bat and tightened his grip. As the pitcher brought back his good arm to throw. Jackie clenched his teeth and... WHACK!
The ball went flying through the air at head level. All I had to do now was run.
I took off just as the third baseman reached out and caught the ball. He threw it to the pitcher. The pitcher threw it to the catcher. But just as he did I dove for home plate.
A knock on the head and a few moments of dizziness was all that I felt after that. As I came to, I stood up and asked.
"Was it safe?"
But no one answered. I shook the pain off and opened my sand stung eyes.
"Come on, was it sa..."
Everyone was gone.
Not one living thing was visible anywhere. It took me a moment to convince myself that I wasn't dreaming, but once I did I noticed something else strange. I was holding in my hand, a journal and a pen.
And so that is my story. Fourteen years of normal, american, life and then poof!
Alone.
It took me two days to actually start writing in this journal. But since I don't have much else to do... why not.
I will keep this journal posted with all of the important things that happen until I find out what is going on.
But my hand hurts now from writing, and I still haven't found any food, so that's all for today.
