Day 122: Zombie babies

Day 122:

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

There are tiny zombie children running around in my yard yelling “GRRR” like their zombie elders and attempting to kill me.

My salvation so far is the bar on the door, which even those little monsters haven’t figured out how to lift.

So somehow these things do breed. And oh are they ugly. I hope I don’t come across a whole kindergarten of them.

Watercolor of two zombies, identical except for the fact that the one on the left is a child that reaches half the high of the adult on the right. They even wear the same teal shirt and purple pants.
The zombie union is very strict about the uniform.

Day 121: Ducken fry

Day 121:

Been working on the bed some more because the gash in my leg is only just starting to heal closed and I don’t want to push it further than necessary.

I’ve got enough wheat at this point to make flour, though grinding flour is definitely not something I’m good at. My flour is filled with chips of rock and I need to figure out a better way to make it. Still. Flour I have.

I also have lots of ducken fat, scraped from the skins of the duckens I’ve been killing and plucking to make the feather bed.

Which means tonight, for the first time since getting stranded here, I had good old-fashioned fried ducken. Fried ducken is delicious, especially with fried potatoes and fried carrots.

Don’t question the carrots. If you’d boiled everything for the last 120 days you’d fry the carrots too.

A very simple watercolor of a ducken drumstick, golden brown and fried.
mmmm drumstick

Day 120: Heading East

Day 120:

I took some time today to just walk around the caverns and see where things were at. You know, kind of a tour of my domain, or somthing.

I’m making good progress digging to the east. At least I think I am. I can clearly see the big mountain when I’m at the east entrance, which wasn’t true of my home location, so I’ve definitely gotten closer. It looks like the area I’m digging in might be south of the big mountain, but I can shift northerly when the time comes.

It’s also hard to tell for sure how far away I am since I can’t tell if the mountain is big and close or really big and far away.

At some point I suspect I’ll have to dig under the river. Not really looking forward to that. If I have enough ducken skins left over after making my bed, I might try to figure out how to waterproof some leather.

Watercolor of the valley outside the east entrance, with the big mountain in the distance. Incredibly simple, mostly green shapes.
The big mountain has either a smaller mountain or an even bigger further away mountain behind it.

Day 119: Feathers

Day 119:

The cave is full of feathers and drying ducken skins. My shoulder’s healing and I’m not limping as much, but I’m really worried that the gash on my calf is going to get infected. I’m cleaning it every few hours.

This wasn’t how I intended to get around to making a feather bed, but truth be told I’m lousy at prioritizing the things that will make me more comfortable when I could be working on the things that will get me out of here altogether.

On the other hand it’s nice to be doing tiny detailed work like sewing skins together for a while instead of big wide movements. One has to keep the fine motor skills exercised as much as the gross ones or real problems can happen.

line sketch of the inside of the author's cave. to the left of the door, a large pile of feathers that reaches halfway to the windows. To the right of the door a pile of red flower heads for dying leather that reaches to a quarter of the window's height. Above the windows and the door a row of chicken skins drying on pegs - roughly 13 in view.
Smells like boiled chicken brains in here.

Day 118: Wrong wrong wrong

Day 118:

I do not wish to discuss how wrong I was about the zombies and the skeletons and the spiders. Suffice it to say that I lived, and I’ll be spending the next few days recovering from my injuries in my cave.

line sketch of a left leg from the knee to the foot. A  wide red gash runs from just below the knee on the shin to the ankle.
Ow. Dammit.