It seems that every day grows bleaker and hope shrinks from a low murmur to a hollow whisper. A party was sent to retrieve water three days ago, and no sign of them returning has been received. Everyone wakes up with a distant look in their eyes. The children, once so full of life and optimism now spend most of their days cowering in the shadows and scavenging for rotten apple cores and stray rats. How cruel is our God, to forsake us like this. Are we being punished for falling victim to pride, and thinking we could create paradise on Earth, we cried to the heavens in praise and now cry to a barren sky in anguish. It is difficult to sleep; every moment is spent listening to the ragged breathing of the elderly and those who have given up hope. Most days the strongest of the colony do rounds of the sleeping lodges and pick up those who don’t wake up, and take them outside the walls. Those days aren’t so bad, that night at the least there are little bits of meat floating in the stale soup bowls.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to go on. There is more blood coming out with every trail of urine and my teeth are beginning to move loose in the gums. The only dreams I see now are of waking to greet a grey sky, and even that dream leads to the nightmare, which is reality. Maybe you will find this letter with me still taking breath, or maybe you will pry this from cold, mortified fingers, but death does not scare me. All hope is gone, and now we wait patiently for the final visitor as the lullaby of groans and cries puts us into an uneasy slumber. Forgive me, God, I was not worth saving.
To now and forever,