HOME | DD

Description
Prologue
Journal Entry: January 14th, 2013
My name is Daniel De la Riva. And let me say, the situation here in Detroit is worse than ever. I’m keeping a journal so that if someone in the future wants to find out what the hell happened that caused the shit to hit the fan in this situation, they can look through this and find out. Let me start from the beginning:
When 2012 came around, there was a lot of paranoia and pandemonium surrounding the mystical date of 12/21/12. People were saying it would be the start of the rapture, or perhaps the day aliens returned to Earth or some conspiracy like that. Well, those rapture guys weren’t far off, at least, the American ones. It was the 20th, and come midnight, an EMP went off in the D.C. area. An hour later, after communications were back up, news came in throughout the radio that most political figures and any possible replacements were mass-assassinated. When this happened, a lotta people got into their cars and attempted to get the fuck out of Michigan. Needless to say, there was a several day traffic jam before they finally left. A decent chunk of people stayed behind, mostly gangs such as the infamous Bloods and Crypts, but then there are gangs like mine. Me and some close buddies from high school currently reside in a convenience store, living off of sandwich supplies and cheaply made green tea. Honestly, I was sick of it, and it seems our little clique was, too. “If the turf wars don’t kill us,” one of my buddies went. “-our kidneys damn sure will.” He wasn’t that far off the mark either. One of us had already passed two kidney stones, and we were afraid he’d die of trauma. The son of a bitch is still with us to this day. Some of us, like myself, aren’t so lucky. I was shot in the liver about half an hour back on a supply run. My buddy had to drag me back to the store, shooting at where the shot came from. When we finally made it back, the first thing I yelled was as followed:
“Bring me my fucking book!”
Naturally, that’s why I’m writing this. To maybe keep my legacy going via ink. And if even one person is reading this, I just wanted to say: If you found any pictures before this page, let it be known that Daniel the comic book crusher was a great artist before he died, and please, don’t forget me. My more brainy friend tells me that I’ve got maybe another half hour of pain to live, but like hell I’m going to put up with much more of this crap. Once I finish writing this, I’m telling the closest buddy to me to end it and tell Mr. Bullet to say hi to Mr. Brain. We’ll both be crying, but he and I’ll know it’s for the best.
My hand is starting to hurt now, so I might just stop soon. Let me wrap this up: Please, don’t let the memory of guys like me be forgotten. Keep your morale up, protect your family and friends, and above all else: Never punk out of life like I did, because no matter how bad it might seem, if your death isn’t inevitable within a short time, don’t cut yourself short. I’m about to call my buddy over with his glock, so, I guess this’ll be my first and final journal entry.
Hasta la vista, mi amigo.
-Daniel

Description
Prologue
Journal Entry: January 14th, 2013
My name is Daniel De la Riva. And let me say, the situation here in Detroit is worse than ever. I’m keeping a journal so that if someone in the future wants to find out what the hell happened that caused the shit to hit the fan in this situation, they can look through this and find out. Let me start from the beginning:
When 2012 came around, there was a lot of paranoia and pandemonium surrounding the mystical date of 12/21/12. People were saying it would be the start of the rapture, or perhaps the day aliens returned to Earth or some conspiracy like that. Well, those rapture guys weren’t far off, at least, the American ones. It was the 20th, and come midnight, an EMP went off in the D.C. area. An hour later, after communications were back up, news came in throughout the radio that most political figures and any possible replacements were mass-assassinated. When this happened, a lotta people got into their cars and attempted to get the fuck out of Michigan. Needless to say, there was a several day traffic jam before they finally left. A decent chunk of people stayed behind, mostly gangs such as the infamous Bloods and Crypts, but then there are gangs like mine. Me and some close buddies from high school currently reside in a convenience store, living off of sandwich supplies and cheaply made green tea. Honestly, I was sick of it, and it seems our little clique was, too. “If the turf wars don’t kill us,” one of my buddies went. “-our kidneys damn sure will.” He wasn’t that far off the mark either. One of us had already passed two kidney stones, and we were afraid he’d die of trauma. The son of a bitch is still with us to this day. Some of us, like myself, aren’t so lucky. I was shot in the liver about half an hour back on a supply run. My buddy had to drag me back to the store, shooting at where the shot came from. When we finally made it back, the first thing I yelled was as followed:
“Bring me my fucking book!”
Naturally, that’s why I’m writing this. To maybe keep my legacy going via ink. And if even one person is reading this, I just wanted to say: If you found any pictures before this page, let it be known that Daniel the comic book crusher was a great artist before he died, and please, don’t forget me. My more brainy friend tells me that I’ve got maybe another half hour of pain to live, but like hell I’m going to put up with much more of this crap. Once I finish writing this, I’m telling the closest buddy to me to end it and tell Mr. Bullet to say hi to Mr. Brain. We’ll both be crying, but he and I’ll know it’s for the best.
My hand is starting to hurt now, so I might just stop soon. Let me wrap this up: Please, don’t let the memory of guys like me be forgotten. Keep your morale up, protect your family and friends, and above all else: Never punk out of life like I did, because no matter how bad it might seem, if your death isn’t inevitable within a short time, don’t cut yourself short. I’m about to call my buddy over with his glock, so, I guess this’ll be my first and final journal entry.
Hasta la vista, mi amigo.
-Daniel