Wednesday
July 7th
1989
Last night I couldn’t sleep. Some stupid dog was barking at the moon.
Signed,
Mick Simmons

Friday
July 9th
1989
I can’t say what I saw just now, but something is wrong with Rudy. Very wrong. She keeps calling for me.
Signed,
Mick Simmons

Saturday
July 10th
1989
Right now I’m sitting in my chair, struggling to gain a hold of myself. Mack is sitting on my lap, shaking in fear. Something went very wrong. Last night my wife got up for once and went to feed Rudy, but something wasn’t right. His pen was broken open. While I worked in the other barn feeding the goats I suddenly heard a scream. My stomach shrank into a ball, giving me the strong undulating sensation of worry. I dropped my pail and hurried to the barn, all I could think of was something happening to Rudy. Just as the barn came into sight there was a loud crunch and the barn door broke open, Rudy standing in its place. His eyes had turned black, and his maw was soaked in what I am certain could be nothing other than blood. Next to him was a body. I didn’t get a good look at it because it was foggy, but I’m sure it was hers. The clothes were torn into rags, and covered in blood, and there were dozens of bite marks covering her shoulders and face. She was still moving slightly, her chest rising feebly as she gasped for air. My eyes were so fixated on her body that I hardly noticed the clomping of a bull’s hooves. I dodged it and ran to the side, rushing for the house. Every second the stomping grew louder, and behind me I could hear a loud bark coming from Rudy, his teeth bared in a cruel smile. I ran as fast as I could, my vision blurring and wobbling more with every breath. Reaching the door at last, I fumbled with the doorknob, desperately trying to wrench the door open. Slamming it behind me, bracing myself for whatever might happen next. After several minutes I overcame my fear and went to the window to see if my pursuer had given up the chase. So far there is no sign, but he could not have gone far, the electric fences would be enough to hold him in. The animals know something is wrong too. Rudy is still barking somewhere off in the distance, he’ll be back I’m sure. I found Mack hidden in the bathroom behind the toilet. My wife still hasn’t died. She cried out to me until she lost the strength, and now all I can hear are her weak sobs. It’s like my ambitions came back and bit me in the ass. Tomorrow I plan to check outside and try to help her, and maybe even get out of this place. If I do not write again, then I am dead.
Signed,
Mick Simmons

Sunday
July 11th
1989
Yesterday, about twelve o’clock I went out, just as I had planned. My first destination was the barn, where my wife was. I was praying to god that she would be alive. When I opened the front door, I shivered from what I saw as I stepped out slowly. The other animals had also gotten loose, and Rudy was hungry. Several fresh goat carcasses were outside of the barn, their throats torn out and innards thrown on the ground in a bloody mess. Walking through past the rotting bodies, I slowly approached the barn. My whole body was shaking and I could feel the blood rushing through my heart as it began to pump faster. Finally reaching the barn, I finally saw my wife, lying on the ground face up. It was worse than I had thought. My body was racked with sobs as I stared at her decrepit face. One of her fingers was torn off, and her face was drenched in blood. An eye had been burst, its white juices dribbling down her cheek. I wretched at the sight of her tattered body, but nothing came up, I hadn’t eaten for several days. Turning from her body, tears going down my face, my head jerked up to the unmistakable clomping of hoofs in the distance. Fear saturated my mind, and I turned for the door as fast as I could. It was then that I realized I had left the door hanging open when I left the house, and my jaws dropped open. Scampering out from the door was a small black dog, with brown paws, clearly spooked by the sound he was hearing, which grew louder every second. That was the last I saw of the poor thing. I saw Rudy emerge from the cornfields surrounding the house, and charge at Mack. He just kept running. Harder and harder, until he couldn’t run anymore, and he slowed his pace. I watched as Rudy’s bloody jaws stretched open, revealing dozens of crooked canine-like teeth. After that, I looked away. All I could hear was hear Mack’s sharp screeches followed by the heavy crunch of breaking bones. I was paralyzed on the spot, listening in complete disgust as Rudy fed. He was only a baby. Slowly I regained control of myself, realizing that there was nothing to stop me from running straight by Rudy into the house. After another moment of thought, I made a break for it. About halfway to the door, my predator took notice, but didn’t take chase. He watched as I ran through the front door, slamming it behind me and running for a place to hide. I can’t rest, because whenever I close my eyes I hear their screams and see their bodies. I’ve got nothing to live on, and now I’m just waiting for the end.

Signed,
Mick Simmons

Tuesday
July
1989
I’m not sure about the date, its too dark and I canot see the sun. Every hour I become weaker with hungr and thirst, and my vision is turning wobly and blurred, as if I was drunk. I miss my son.
Signed,
Mick Simmons

1989
Rudy got smart. I can hear his slmming against the door, trying to get to me. I think he can smel me. Soon he wil get through the door and ill try to get ou. The noise is gtting louder.  I have to leav now. If anyone fins this, I am d