#apocalyptic — Public Fediverse posts

RUEN – The Tragedy of the Commons
#Folk #Punk #anarchopunk #apocalyptic #doom #folk #hardcore #posthardcore #punk #punkrock #screamo #Lisbon
CC BY-NC (#CreativeCommons Attribution Non Commercial) #ccmusic
https://weareruen.bandcamp.com/album/the-tragedy-of-the-commons

New book is preorder-able! The Unnamed: A Collection of Stories from the Greenland Diaries. I tend to run out of paperbacks in my first run, and I have six events in October, so preorder now. Supplies limited! Details below:

#horror #books #literaryhorror #writing #apocalyptic #monsters #reading

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/08/19/preorder-my-new-book-the-unnamed-a-collection-of-short-stories-from-the-greenland-diaries-while-supplies-last/

Preorder my new book The Unnamed: A Collection of Short Stories from the Greenland Diaries While Supplies Last

My new short story collection is up and available for preorder on my Square Store. I’m opening preorders pretty early since I don’t know how many copies I’ll have for my first run and this is the best way for you to get a paperback before I go through them at my six different October events. So yeah, supply will be very limited.

The Unnamed is $15 and I’ll ship it to you for FREE. It will be signed, doodled, and personalized. This is a fantastic book, and a must have if you’ve been reading the Greenland Diaries for the last ten years. These monsters are incredible. This collection is the spotlight they so richly deserve.

Cover and description below:

A Collection of Short Stories from the Greenland Diaries

Before the Drum, during it, within the shadow of its destruction, and decades after its absence; experience a vast collection of short stories from this apocalyptic horror universe.

A strange earthquake below a refinery, a series of grave robberies in a Saint Paul graveyard, a mysterious light in a rural slaughterhouse, a monster reborn in a gravel pit, a tour guide lamenting a journey through the Jade, and the Unnamed finding new purposes without the demonic Drum.

Enjoy a true variety of tales about the vibrant and unique monsters from the Greenland Diaries.

A mixture of violence and melancholy, these agents of the apocalypse will no doubt make you wonder about their existence and meaning long after the final story ends.

Hit it here to Preorder Your Copy of the Unnamed While Supplies Last

These are some of the darkest entries thus far. It is hard to stay calm and collected in any stressful situation, much less one as dangerous as the Drum. Enjoy, and thank you for reading my work.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/08/17/the-greenland-diaries-day-71/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 71

I knew Gerald wouldn’t be able to handle the illusions for very long.

Last night, the images came back in renewed power, like those phantom artists had been locked away with their stifled creativity. Cars were buzzing around. Streetlights flickered along the alleyways in electric suns. Bugs drifted past them in disoriented clouds.

It was too much for Gerald.

The sounds, the old music playing about the lit windows in piano-heavy melodies, pulled Gerald’s eyes out of the shed and into the darkness. Tears came, too. He kept putting his hand over his mouth and mumbling, “not possible, not possible, how can they still be there, how can they still be out there.”

He was talking too loud last night. It’s been getting steadily worse. I considered knocking him unconscious. I held it in. I know the Unnamed are watching us for the slightest error. I kept whispering to him to be quiet, but it didn’t work.

The night finally ended with the whistles of morning birds and glows of rising steam from the plants. It looked serene and pretty, but it always does. Gerald ran out of the shed the moment we opened the door. He said we needed to find a new place to hide, that he insisted on us changing our location. I get his fear, but they still haven’t found us in the shed.

We argued all morning about it. Once again, I contemplated knocking him out so he could just calm down. Eventually, he stormed off down the block with his rifle over his shoulder. Snowy barked at him to come back, and I yelled. It was a little melodramatic, but he’s the only human being I’ve really talked to and had in my life since this whole thing started.

Plus, he’s my friend.

I gave him a little space when he staggered away through the houses. A few more roofs collapsed in the distance as he walked away. They echoed like old crumbling gods giving way to some new order. After a few hours, I went looking for him. I checked his house, the neighborhood, and everywhere I could.

He’ll be slaughtered, they’re looking for us.

I don’t know what to do.

'Big #tech is no longer our friend, as many of its #billionaire owners have seized #economic and #political control and are steering the fate of the planet towards their own bizarre, #apocalyptic visions.

' #Fascism is no exaggeration.'

#War on #Democracy

RE: https://bsky.app/profile/did:plc:eycg47nc4kycvzgiq3r5h326/post/3msryr3v3e22x

I implore you to explore this series more if you get tired of reading just the one entry at a time on here. If you like it in small doses, then by all means continue.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/08/10/the-greenland-diaries-day-70/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 70

They were everywhere last night. They practically devoured the gloom and darkness with their spiked clouds. 

Gerald and I watched them all night.

We were waiting for the Unnamed to tear into our tin box. To shake us loose from these flimsy walls and take us outside in flailing chunks of screaming meat. I can’t help but think we’re tuna inside this shed, waiting to be peeled out and torn to pieces by a thousand clawed arms of unknown monsters.

What makes the analogy worse is the sweat pouring out of our skin at an alarming rate. We’re literally being canned and preserved for the Unnamed.

Writing this much about the same things over and over, everything is turning into a metaphor. This is the most I’ve ever written in my life. I need it to keep me sane. 

No illusions again last night. My killing of the Unnamed in the sunlight must have thrown off the delicate balance. The festering paranoia from the battle might not have been worth removing this creature from existence. It’s very discouraging watching the monsters gather these last few nights. They’re mortal, and capable of being killed by our guns, bullets, and bombs. Why are there still so many of them roaming about in the darkness? Even if those confrontations between the military and Unnamed failed, they still should have wiped out a bunch of these monsters.

I don’t understand why there are still so many.

Another downside of watching these monsters the last few nights has been the grim realization they’re stalking the sky. I remember during the counterattack; I saw something tear a jet apart in the blackness. These last few nights the sky has been writhing with whatever abomination throttled that plane. I can’t get the best looks through the rusty cracks of my shed’s roof, but to me they look like pieces of flowing black cloth with white and flawless masks. The masks have faces on them.

I saw one chase down a jet

We slept during the day, again. I do not like this type of routine. We have plenty of provisions and water, so gathering more isn’t an issue. The feeling of profound hopelessness is a more pressing issue however, and it feels more powerful during the day. Gerald suggested we move, but the whole area becomes thick with them, and staying in the heart of this monster-maelstrom might be the key.

I just can’t leave things that are familiar to me.

Today, a roof on the rambler across the street collapsed beneath the weight of the plants. It shook the whole neighborhood in a booming and broken crash of rotted wood and hollow metal. The sound only happened for a second, as if the plants didn’t want to bother anyone. Nothing moved when the house caved in, not a bird or bug. Gerald and I looked at each other when it happened, but we didn’t say anything.

The plants are going to get rid of us one way or another.

Monday! The Greenland Diaries is here for your monster enjoyment. I'll be adding Friday's to the publication schedule once Beware the Ills finishes. Enjoy!

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/08/03/the-greenland-diaries-day-69/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 69

Before I can talk about today and last night after our little skirmish with the Unnamed, I should elaborate about what occurred after we killed the daylight-walking fiend. The branches started to roar, like a hurricane had been shackled between their leafy arms and suddenly released. The gust howled around us, circling the playground and vines. We immediately jumped off the playground and ran towards home.

The roaring sound of the leaves, it was like every eye the Unnamed had hidden in the daylight had suddenly turned and fixed them on us. During the sprint, I managed to yell to Gerald that we should zigzag our way back to the shed. Whatever phantom was following us, I didn’t want it to find our nightly hiding place.

Gerald did one better, we hid at his house a while before we sneaked back to my tiny shed. We waited inside his house until the breeze went quiet and returned to its drifting sways. It took a full four hours for the world to calm down, like killing the Unnamed had disrupted the natural balance of things.

If there was anything natural about these monsters.

Gerald and I talked about the feeling that made us run so frantically. We couldn’t pinpoint the fear, but it felt like something horrible and surreal.

The Drum sounded at eight in the waning orange beams of the sun. We waited in the shed with our guns ready. Gerald wanted us to dig an escape tunnel through the bottom of the shed, so we’d have someplace to go in case the Unnamed realized our location. I’m too worried about the natural gas lines beneath our buildings to even contemplate a tunnel. Plus, we would use a huge amount of energy to dig, which we didn’t have after running and hiding.

The night was stocked with the Unnamed. They scoured every inch of my house and backyard. They were rabid to find our hiding spot. This strange vengeance fueled search, coupled with the fact they never leave their dead behind, makes me worried the Unnamed are much more than just masked killing machines.

There were no illusions beaming about the darkness during their frenzied search. Maybe they canceled them to look for us. How could they stop their mirages like an afternoon play performance?

We spent the entire night holding our breath. We stayed perfectly silent inside the shed, even Snowy didn’t breathe loudly. We watched dozens of the Unnamed drift by. The trains of spiked clouds and red-gold skeletons were endless. 

When morning finally arrived, and the daylight melted the shadows and Unnamed away, Gerald and I started to hunt throughout the neighborhood for a new hiding place. After constantly second-guessing ourselves and finding every conceivable error with each basement we searched, we decided to stay in the shed.

 If they knew we were there, we’d have been dead last night.

We spent the rest of the day sleeping, but with lingering paranoid thoughts of the plants growing larger, the Drum louder, and the Unnamed becoming more and more human.

This far into the story, and we're only just getting started. I'm happy you get to experience these monsters with me every Monday. Enjoy!

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/07/27/the-greenland-diaries-day-68/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 68

Nothing ever goes according to plan.

I’ll start again with last night. Not much actually changed. More darkness, drums, and illusions. More crying from Gerald, hushes by me, and whines out of Snowy.

In the morning, we immediately started walking towards Crystal Lake, which was the earlier site of the daylight Unnamed. We moved carefully and slowly, just in case the monster was waiting for us in some sort of bizarre ambush. I had witnessed their attack at night because of those illusions, but how the Unnamed would operate during the day was a complete mystery. When it staggered past me, it looked sick and anemic, like it wasn’t truly there.

It’s too hot and humid outside to carry extra gear with us, especially when we need to conserve our strength. Gerald had his rifle. I had my shotgun and M16. It’s rained twice since the start of the Drum, which means we should expect rainfall once a month. The unchanging humidity might be worse than the Unnamed in some respects, especially since we theoretically get a break from the monsters in the daylight.

We set up our scouting spot on top of a playground about a hundred yards away from the bench where I saw the Unnamed. The structure was completely covered in plants. We had to tear some of them apart to even find a place to kneel or sit down. Eventually, we made a spot on top of a round slide, between some narrow bars. Gerald set up his rifle between them. Snowy came with us also, I won’t be leaving her alone.

We waited most of the day in our little hiding spot. The sun burned us, and gnats constantly wandered over in angry little clouds to bite our eyes. We both wore Kevlar vests for protection, and the armor combined with the heat made us sweat in a thousand different places.

We each probably drank one gallon of water, Snowy included.

Around four we saw it. It walked, if you could call it that, down the same hills and paths as before. It followed the outline of the lake like an angry cloud. It looked the same; spiked, foggy, and strangely hooded with a dark and fluctuating cloak. It was heading for the same patch of trees as before. Gerald started shaking and gasping at the sight of it. He dropped the rifle and cowered back against the monkey bars.

I’d forgotten if he’d actually seen the Unnamed before.

I picked up the rifle and followed the black sight down. It took a few seconds to get used to the perspective. The numbered grid eventually focused on the drifting monster, and I impulsively pulled the trigger. The shot echoed across the Greenland world. The Unnamed shook for a second like a startled animal and turned toward me with its shadowy head.

It had found me that fast, I couldn’t believe it.

It started to run towards us like a bladed wind. I fired at it multiple times, but it twisted wildly back and forth, leaving small plums of dust behind its body. I threw down the rifle and picked up my M16. In that small amount of time, it’d closed the gap between us and was running for the slide. I fired a quick burst into it, which slowed it down for a second and knocked it off its feet. It crawled onto the slide in a hooded shutter. Thorns hit the playground around us. Gerald grabbed Snowy who was shaking and curled against the wall as the black points fell on us. I ran over to the top of the slide and fired into the Unnamed at point blank range. It hissed and shook like a trapped fog, but still crawled upwards.

My clip went empty as it reached the top.

Without even thinking, I kicked the monster in its shrouded, gold-caged chest. Thankfully, the Unnamed was weak from the gunfire and toppled back down the slide. Still, it was like kicking a living wall. I followed and fired five shells from my shotgun into its quivering mass. It went still with a quiet hiss, like steam being released from an engine.

I ran down to the body to look at the monster’s face. The hood was completely black but moving. As I approached it, the plants, which had invaded the playground in a green carpet, clung onto the Unnamed like a sleeping child and cocooned the body in a twist of ivy. I jumped back onto the playground; afraid the green tide might suck me in.

They were working together.

Another day in my apocalyptic horror series the Greenland Diaries. Thank you for reading my work and for continuing this dark road. It will reward you. I promise.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/07/20/the-greenland-diaries-day-67/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 67

I wish I could think of one single thing to say to Gerald to help ease his mind about what’s happened in the last twelve hours. In just one day, the entire colony was destroyed and hopelessness returned.

I just don’t know what to say.

Last night was sad and awkward. I wanted to tell him in the thick air of my shed it was going to be okay, and more colonies would get established. My positive attitude sounded ridiculous in my head, since I’m just as hopeless as Gerald. 

I didn’t say anything.

I’m shocked someone made the crucial mistake of bringing a mirror around so many people, knowing the Unnamed are lurking behind every reflection. I shouldn’t dwell on idiocy, it’s just that there aren’t very many of us left, and when things like this happen, it reduces the small amount of hope you hold within you.

The illusions were out last night. The Drum boomed solemnly. Gerald cried all night long. It was loud, weepy, and full of groans. I was afraid he might attract the Unnamed, but what could I say to him? I was just glad he was back, and that there was someone for me to finally talk to. I stayed up all night watching him cry.

We almost had it, a piece of our old world again.

In the morning, Gerald moved a few of his things into the shed, mainly his weapons, water, and leftover food. We have a bunch of it now, enough to last us more than a few months. I’m glad he’s willing to stay together through all these horrors. Snowy’s really attached to him, it’s almost like she was tired of me. She’s feeling better, but she still has a whole constellation of hives on her ears. I gave Gerald a few books to read to keep his mind off the Drum coming in the evening. He didn’t even pick them. He just listened to his little battery-powered radio. Nothing but static, not even the emergency sounds play anymore.

I told Gerald about the Unnamed out in the daylight, the one who wandered around like a spiked cloud. He didn’t believe me. He laughed at me. I know what I saw. I shouted at him about it. We’re both frustrated by the loss of the colony. Regardless, I’m making Gerald go with me to the lake tomorrow to see if we can see it.

I need to know if we should be afraid during the day as well, or if it was just a random occurrence.

We biked all the way to Brooklyn Center yesterday and didn’t see one.

Apocalyptic horror book. Part 2 in my popular series. Brutal, dark, found journal with unforgettable monsters that challenge you in countless ways. Free, free, and free till Sunday. Get it. Details below:

#horror #writing #books #reading #kindle #free #apocalyptic #literaryhorror #freebookpromo

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/07/16/the-greenland-diaries-days-101-140-apocalyptic-horror-free-on-the-kindle/

The Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 — Apocalyptic Horror Free on the Kindle

For this week, the second book in my popular apocalyptic horror series The Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 is free on the Kindle.

The book is available for the cheap price of NOTHING, today through Sunday.

Out of the whole series, this is the most horror-max book. It is not for the faint of heart. The monsters really push it. Well worth the read. Freshly revised and updated. Enjoy. More details below:

“Monsters, monsters, everywhere.”

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011. All errors have been left intact in the effort to preserve historical authenticity. If you have any information about these diaries, please contact your closest bureau to speak to a representative.

Click here to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 101 – 140 for FREE

The illusions are heating up in the Greenland Diaries. I hope you're ready for even more phantoms and more. Enjoy. Thank you for reading my apocalyptic horror series.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/07/13/the-greenland-diaries-day-66/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 66

I’ll start with last night when Gerald and I hid inside my shed during the Drum. The illusions glowed, and the night air was filled with the sounds of music, cars, and kitchen lights. I even heard whistling in the darkness. Gerald hadn’t been part of the dream-darkness yet. Luckily, he was in better spirits and health thanks to the colony, so he could grapple with the strange set of emotions you feel upon witnessing the pre-drum world rise out of the deep.

I was a little worried when he first started watching the streetlights. The glow can hypnotize you. I let him soak it in at first. In fact, he kept on mumbling, “This has to be real right? This has to be?”

“No Gerald, it’s a trick, I’ve seen the monsters come out of the lights. They’re all waiting for us,” I’d whisper to him.

“I haven’t heard music since the start of it all.” 

“It’s not really there, Gerald.”

We’d repeat the same conversation over and over, until he accepted the portraits of our lost world. He cried a little bit in the darkness. I did too at the beginning of it all. It makes you doubt every little thing about yourself, like you’re caught between two nightmares.

 Gerald and I didn’t sleep the entire night. I was too worried about him running out to the mirages. Eventually, dawn came in a yellow heaviness, and we staggered out of the shed with a renewed focus. I packed my backpack with food and water and hid the rest of my supplies in the ground. I packed my M16, pistol, my shotgun, and some grenades.  I was worried we’d get caught out in the darkness. I put Snowy inside my backpack on top of the food and water. She’s been doing a little bit better. She’s been sleeping more often and breathing very hard.

 I can’t think about it.

I’ve been hiding a bike inside the shed. I didn’t use it too often because I don’t want someone to rob me for it, and also because the tendrils of ivy and vines have made riding on it unbearably painful. Today, I’m going to use it, since Gerald rode one back from the colony.

We rode for at least three hours, down 81 to Highway 100, where we took the old freeway down to Brooklyn Boulevard. It was hard to see the world. Everything has been choked by green, like the plants are trying to squeeze the concrete to death. We’re all just rats being constricted by it. Buildings, roads, light poles, stoplights, even benches all had a velvet skin of leaf and vine wrapped around them. The asphalt is warped, causing bumps and bruises with every passing second. My butt and inner thighs feel raw and skinless against the seat. I’ve lost so much weight from my apocalyptic diet.

The colony was working out of an old shopping mall called Brookdale, which was right off Highway 100 North. We walked the last half of the trip since we had time to spare. If you ever want to travel in this new drum world, you need to leave plenty of time open for the daylight. I let Snowy walk with us towards the end of it. I hadn’t noticed any dogs or anything dangerous roaming around. 

Gerald was surprised and saddened the moment we exited the dilapidated freeway. Nobody greeted us. There were no signs of vehicles, or anything, just silence from the shopping mall. Brookdale was just a tiny block of a building, with a few wings of empty stores. Nothing moved outside of it. The front was full of massive windows and doors, which had all been shattered. Gerald ran up to them and darted inside the mall. He said the windows weren’t broken before, that the beasts had left it undisturbed.

Inside the long corridor of Brookdale, we found remnants of people in bloody scraps and broken weapons. It was like someone had sprayed the ceramic ground in uneven shades of red and let the paint pile onto itself in dried clumps. The entire inside of the mall was covered in these crimson, inky shapes. We only walked halfway in before the stench of rotting blood completely controlled the air. Shattered guns and bullet casings reflect the sunlight through the mall’s windows. I grabbed some food and water from the bloody ground, but literally every single weapon from knife to M16 had been destroyed by the Unnamed.

Halfway into the mall, we found the cause of the attack. Someone had brought in a long mirror. The monsters had noticed the colony through the reflection and stormed in during the night. If it had been at dusk, when the Drum first started, these people might have had a fighting chance.

Gerald destroyed the mirror, shattering it with the butt of his rifle over and over again into dust. When he finally stopped panting above the crushed silver, he was sweating and crying. He had hope. He had tasted it when he lived here.

Neither of us spoke the entire walk home.

#Apocalyptic menagerie. Beatus of Liébana, Commentaria in Apocalypsin (the ‘Beatus of Saint-Sever’), Saint-Sever before 1072. BnF, Latin 8878, fol. 198r.
#medieval #MedievalArt

“The #apocalyptic impulse is as old as #sciencefiction itself, but the advent of #nuclearweapons gave it fresh urgency and immediacy. #Empires rise and fall like ocean waves in #postwar science fiction … “ #books #BookSky #RobertCharlesWilson open.substack.com/pub/robertch...

Against Nostalgia: Reading Lib...

Okay, well, it is Monday. Obligatory faceless monster encounter, haunting drumming sound, illusions, sewn together people, and something living in the sky. Enjoy!

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/07/06/the-greenland-diaries-day-65/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 65

I spent all last night giving Snowy teaspoons of Benadryl. Her ears look the worst from the allergic reaction, they’re raw with red sores, which look like they could pop open from the slightest turn of her head. She slept through the night fine thanks to the medicine. I wish I knew how much to give her, and how often. You take for granted all this knowledge when you have no access to it. The whole world was plugged in and then wrenched apart by these monsters.

There would always be Wikipedia, or Google to answer all my puzzles. I’m not even sure where the library might be from here, but that’s the only place holding any knowledge.

There weren’t any illusions floating around the darkness of the Drum last night, just the distant thunder of a monster-soaked world. I wonder if the wet air stopped all the spores from floating around, just like the night before with all the heavy rain. The Unnamed must have cloaks of spores, which camouflage them. The ones who screamed the other night, they said the speeding car was made of them.

Clearly there must be a connection.

When the morning finally appeared and knocked the Drum away, a surprise was waiting outside my house. Gerald was back. He was actually clean and washed, and less gaunt than when he wandered off weeks ago.

I couldn’t believe how happy I was to see him. Snowy ran out for a belly-rub in the long grass. Gerald was happy to see us, and was carrying a bag of water and canned food.

He’d gone looking for his children. He found a few clusters and colonies of people who had banded together to survive the nights. The biggest colony he found was in Brooklyn Center and had over a hundred people living inside of it. Every night they’d find hiding spots and places and looked out for one another with the Unnamed.

He said they nursed him back to health when he staggered into the camp. They’d basically saved his life. He decided to come back to Robbinsdale to find me and take me there. I couldn’t help but hug the little old man and lift him off the ground. 

I was so tired of us being alone in the darkness.

Tomorrow, we’ll walk to the camp during the day. He said they had networks set to find lost relatives. He didn’t hear anything about his kids, but maybe I would hear something about my parents, Ling, or more.

I’m feeling so much better about the Drum. Even more amazing, when Gerald related this entire story to me outside my shed, he referred to the monsters as the Unnamed. 

Those kids listened to me.

Free Book Day: The Greenland Diaries Days 1 – 100

Hello all, I’m back with a free Kindle book giveaway to gear up for CONvergence 2026, which I’ll be attending in just a few days.

I’m offering my most popular work, and the gateway to my apocalyptic horror series, the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE on the Kindle for the next three days.

This book has been revised, restructured, and rebuilt into the most effective, found journal horror experience you can imagine. The monsters are unforgettable. Description and link below:

“It began with a drum. Then the monsters came. I’ve been hiding ever since.”

The following collections of journals were recovered from a caravan outside of Duluth, Minnesota. The exact date of recovery is not known nor is the origin of the speaker. The Bureau for the Restoration of History (BFRH) would like help in identifying the man who kept these records. This unedited record of events is still considered the most accurate history of the apocalypse that occurred on April 15th, 2011.

1. Do not move when the Drum sounds
2. Do not trust the Streetlights
3. Do not look in the mirrors

Hit it here to get the Greenland Diaries: Days 1 – 100 for FREE

Happy Monday! Again, new entries every week from my apocalyptic horror series the Greenland Diaries. Enjoy the monsters. They're everything to the story in so many ways.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/29/the-greenland-diaries-day-64/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 64

There was rain last night, which I was thankful for, since I needed to collect the rainwater and store it. The thunderstorm surprised us, and soon the walls of the shed were rattling against the winds. I thought it was going to come apart against the thrashing, and flutter into the darkness like a pair of metal wings.

Snowy and I would be left alone in the maelstrom, and she’d probably run off into the rain. Luckily, this didn’t happen, though it felt like it would with every boom of thunder. Snowy shook uncontrollably. I had to hold her tightly to my chest to get her to stop.

The storms lasted for nearly the entire night, and didn’t stop until early morning when the sunlight was blue and barely alive. The weather was intense. It was like all these plants had stopped the rain from coming, and that energy had been bottled up for one primal rage. Fog billowed off the layers of the plants and blocked out all the empty spaces between the houses and trees. I didn’t move when the fog was out, it was too thick and smoky, like a thousand giant spiders had spun an uneven web.

It could be a trick, a ruse of the daylight to hide the Unnamed in amongst these ground clouds. I watched the billows for spikes and claws but saw nothing. Just the same houses and alleyways I had always known. It wasn’t until the very last edges of the fog faded to nothing, that I left my shed.

During the day I collected my rainwater from the containers I had spread throughout the neighborhood. Most of them were bottles, and gallon jugs, and each was at least half full. I covered each one and buried them in shallow spots in my yard. I made sure not to leave any tracks for the Unnamed to find in the night. 

Each day I’ll go a little further into the neighborhood, in the effort to avoid the Unnamed. It must’ve been a fluke. In the nearly seventy days of this event, I’ve never witnessed an Unnamed out in the sunlight.

I’m praying it’s a fluke.

Snowy had some sort of allergic reaction when I let her out after the fog went away. Her ears and head became full of lumps and hives, and her eyes swelled up, so they looked like they were about to pop out of her forehead. I found some Benadryl and gave her a teaspoon of it. I hope that works. She threw up too and is breathing hard.

I’ve never been so helpless.

This far into the story, and we're only just getting started. I'm happy you get to experience these monsters with me every Monday. Enjoy!

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/22/the-greenland-diaries-day-63/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 63

I didn’t sleep last night, and I couldn’t nap during the day. My feet hurt from standing and walking around. Snowy has been able to sleep just fine, like nothing bothered her. Watching those people die last night in the darkness, getting carved up by the Unnamed, was terrifying. It’d been a while since I’d watched them rip people apart like clay.

After the blood and screams, I spent the entire day pacing around the shed. In the span of 24 hours; I’d witnessed the Unnamed out in the daylight by the lake, and then three people, who I didn’t even know were hiding right by me, being tricked then killed by the monsters. For so many weeks the blood and viciousness of the situation hadn’t bothered me. The world scares me because it can look so safe, but it’s full of traps and nightmares.

I didn’t do much else today except watch a few clouds drift across the unchecked blue sky. I want to wait one week before I leave my yard, in case the wandering Unnamed wasn’t some fluke or anomaly.

I already feel claustrophobic.

There are clouds bubbling up on the horizon in gray bits of flattened moisture.

 Please let it rain, please.

https://www.nytimes.com/live/2026/06/18/world/iran-war-trump-us-deal

Because, deep down, #Republicans and #MAGA are #antisemites, (#SpaceLasers anyone?) except when it serves their #apocalyptic, #endtimes #Christianity. They don't hate #Israel, but you can be sure that their country clubs have very few #Jewish members if any.

Snowy is based off my dog Millie from a decade or so ago. Millie taught me how to love and be more self-aware. Whenever I see a post from my story concerning the dog, I just remember her.

#writing #reading #fiction #books #horror #apocalyptic #journal #monsters #novels

https://patrickwmarshauthor.wordpress.com/2026/06/15/the-greenland-diaries-day-62/

The Greenland Diaries: Day 62

Even with all the supplies I was carrying, I managed to run the entire way home in the heat and pollen. Snowy was right next to me in a sustained gallop. She doesn’t sleep when she’s had too much exercise, but rests on the cold floor of the shed and wags her tail in random intervals. She only falls asleep when I’m sitting around her, which is often. We’re practically attached to the hip.

Last night didn’t help with the intense feelings of danger. The Drum sounded before the sunset. The streetlights beamed on in artificial glows. Cars drove by in curling headlights. Music chimed between warm windows and distant alleys. 

I knew it would happen eventually, and sure enough last night in the dark it did.

Two men and a woman were lured out into the Drum. They dashed out of a house in the back alley, which had been long covered with lines of plants and flowers. They charged towards one of the cars. I’m not sure how long they’d been living inside there, or if they were just traveling through and had picked that spot to hide. It gives me hope and fear to know people were so close to me in all this thundering darkness.

I lost sight of the three people when they charged towards the car. The vehicle was sitting on the street just outside of the alley behind my house.  They called for help, like the machine could answer them. I could hear their voices. The lights of the car glowed between the edges of the plants and buildings. 

That’s when I saw the first one.

The Unnamed charged down the alley. A living shadow with claws. Four more followed it in a tight pack. They hardly broke a leaf as they moved. The streetlights quietly powered down behind them, like they were too afraid to witness what was about to occur. The big Unnamed appeared as well, the type with the mutilated arm. It charged beside my shed, nearly ripping it apart. The walls trembled like paper as it pursued. Snowy barked before I could grab her muzzle, but the monster was too concerned with the people to notice. They typically don’t care about dogs, but I didn’t want them to investigate the sound.

The moment the Unnamed rushed towards the car, the headlights, which were reflecting in the stuffy darkness, went out and the music was cut from the air.

“Spores, they’re just spores,” some man screamed.

Bullets rattled by my shed and the broken tree next to it. I hugged Snowy to my chest and turned my back to the battle. I didn’t want a random shot to come through the shed and hurt her. An explosion shook the air around us, a grenade or rocket launcher. Screams followed, along with hisses and roars. I was too afraid to turn around and watch the battle.

I heard some gurgling and splashing sounds, like water being thrown on the pavement. It had to be blood. It could be nothing else. After the wet sound, everything went back to the Drum. There were no more cars or melodies. The streetlights went silent and dark. Nothing moved.

I stayed close to the shed. The Unnamed I saw yesterday in the daylight looked lost and confused, but it’d probably still try to kill me. I’m not willing to find out. I’ll always keep a weapon close from now on. I checked for signs of the battle yesterday and found bloody clothes and shattered weapons. The guns being destroyed happen to be new, the Unnamed never cared about weapons before. 

The crater from the explosion yesterday has already been filled up by ivy and lines of plants, like those people never existed.