Nobody had heard of the pandemic of 1928 because not a soul, if you can call them that, wanted to talk about it. Not until one did in 1994, when I found this journal, and decided I should do ask my grandfather asked. It proceeds as follows.
You see, when it started, the pandemic, I was a brain dead soilder from the war, in a hospital room. When I woke up, evryone, doctors, nurses, those in the care of those doctors who weren’t brain dead, were, well, dead. We only knew we were brain dead because of our charts. We, of course, spent hours reading through our own charts, before we left the hospital.
When we eventually did, what had happened in the hospital, had also happened outside. Men, women, children, all dead at our feet. We didn’t know what to think about it. Of course we questioned it, trying to rationalize what we were seeing. We tried listening to the radio, with no such luck, all static, police stations, people dead there too. It seemed like we were the only ones in the world, and we were, until the dead started to come out of their graves in the cemeteries, seemingly well. Thats when I myself really began questioning it, because it wassn’t just a few people, it was every damn person ever buried.
It took almost 6 months in our area to bury those who died in the graves everyone else had crawled from. At this point it was obvious that this pandemic had happended all over the world, we only relized this when letters started coming in and going out, but being returned, saying this person was no longer alive. Many tried to find family they left behind when they had passed, to no avail. Even I tried, to find my wife and child, and I had, nearly three months after the pandemic started. I had been searching and searching for them. I thought the would be in our house, but they weren’t. They also weren’t at the hospital when I woke. I found them at the grocery store. They had been shopping for either lunch or dinner, and it was evident, from the dirt covering my little boy, that they had possible just come from the park, or playing baseball.
I didn’t wish to bury them in an empty grave that once belonged to someone else, so I chose to bury them in tye yard of our house. I wish to be buried next to them when my time comes, I love them still so dearly. I always will. I did of course find another wife and had more children. 3 more, they knew of their brother, and his mother, my first wife.
My second wife died at the age of 57, when I was 59, I miss her sometimes. Its been 30 years since she passed. I
I’m now 89, the year is 1991, a few months ago I was diagnosed with lung cancer from asbestos from the war. I was given two months to live, I’ writing this in my journal for the hope that one of my grandkids or great grandkids finds this and tells the world, tells the world that not a single person alive now, should be.That there should be different people in their places.
I found my grandfathers journal 2 years after he passed in 1994. His last entry was Decemeber 1991, and I have decided to fullfill his wish and tell the world. Here’s his story, your story, and mine. I think I’m going to see if there is anything hidden in the library about this.