Tituba’s Wish

Tituba’s Wish

A journey to save the rest of mankind from themselves

MAY 25th, 2020

13:09

After a week and some odd days of stealing vehicles and rigging them, many deserted stores looted, in which, I have acquired this notebook, some people, unfortunately, in this case, women double crossed in order to maintain and sustain, and the unforgettably disturbing last interaction with my younger brother, my only remaining family member, I have finally made it to Boston from the absolute atrocity that has become, New York City. To be honest, I almost lost faith in getting here but it indeed became a rite of spirit to get here. My mother, Laura Thompson, is buried near Bunker Hill and in my aim to still accomplish things in the midst of an insoluble global genocide, you would think I’d be more careful in my pursuit that would either leave me forlorn and or with a momentary sense of joy. Nonetheless, as I gaze out into the sky with a delightful breeze that hugs my face, I feel indifferent to the world in front of me. Believe me, Boston is a beautiful place, but now it’s ravaged only by the distant sounds of screaming, growls, grunts, and the animals that live to witness the destruction of almost half the population.

MAY 25th, 2020

16:49

Shortly after I found a detailed map of the city, I realized this vehicle I am in began to overheat. At this point, I’m far too used to things going wrong that I remain quite unbothered. A large number of those people are crazed cannibals that seem to only go for themselves, or turn inside and annihilate their own existence from the abysmal reality that just spawned out of thin air on Independence Day of 2019, designate “THE XYDUS-19”. With my quirks and experiences, I am truly able to remain firm in this post apocalyptic world without adult men around. Quite frankly, sometime ago, I got a kick out of not being messed with by my father, brother or the men that I shared space and time for in life. Nowadays, I seek an understanding even greatly of how the primal male mentality somewhat functions. Throughout my journey, I’ve kept an eye on the interactions adult men have. Fully adult men brawl until their death leaving only one male, probably in social hierarchies, an alpha male left to feed on the bodies of his slain opponents. I’ve observed that the alpha male begins to mutate. Occasionally, I find a herd of younger men who have been ostracized by the women of their families, as they fear that in due time, they may become victims to the people they birthed. Today, no matter where I go, I am surrounded by the sounds of those men and the sound of their prey but where I stand, remains empty as if I should only be able to hear that wind that hugged my face some hours ago..

MAY 25th, 2020

17:59

I just learned everyone with sense should avoid Fenway Park.

MAY 25th, 2020

19:02

Around Charles River bend, making way to a hospital to scope out for supplies and a bed to rest my head.

I am overdue for 12 hours of rest it seems like

MAY 26th, 2020

06:27

A cacophony from the choir of man awakes me before I’m able to get the crust out of my eye or yawn. This is an ideal time for me to test the theory on my own about why only men are afflicted, alas I fell asleep in a hospital that may not have anything left for me to do so. Maybe it’s in my best interest to keep moving closer to Bunker Hill.

MAY 26th, 2020

08:00

The journey to Bunker Hill was the first time I felt something in a long time. I felt my mother’s spirit expand within me as I reached closer to the cemetery. That wind is as familiar today as it was yesterday. I step closer and closer to her grave plot and I begin to disintegrate into the emotions that overpower my body. I throw myself to the slab of rock in front of me, as if I don’t have a body at all. For once, the first time in months, I feel a great amount of sorrow and a mass of regret for not being able to be there for her in her last days. This array of emotions allots for great confusion; do I feel more of her loss or the loss of the men I valued and knew loved me? Their situations are both different, for I had no knowledge of her final day yet I had to witness the transition of man into beast in my father and brother with my very eyes. Even though she died so very long ago, bittersweet it is, knowing I will never see them again.

MAY 26th, 2020

09:01

I remain plotted near my mother’s grave for sometime, by my side are all of my belongings and the wind that has graciously remained to provide bliss. The sun shines a little brighter than it did yesterday. The minutes I spent crouched over a dead body seem like eternity and the passing of clouds begins to obstruct the only essence of life other than the birds and bees that fly unaware of the world I am seeing. I close my eyes for a split second to release my final tears. Suddenly I hear multiple clicks and clacks of different caliber guns around me. I slowly, and I mean very slowly, raise my hands to my head. “My weapons you may have. Hell take the backpack, just let me keep my necklace, notebook and ballcap” I say without any hesitation. A silence remained over me for what seemed just as long as my mourning. “Is that okay?” I inquire with saline beginning to line my eyelids. A solemn yet faint voice echoes behind me and says “That’s perfect”. Behind me stood 6 very different women of different races still with their guns drawn and the woman that held the voice walks in front of me and says with a bit more spunk now noticing I am too a woman, “she adorns Tituba’s locket!”. The only question in my mind was “who is Tituba and how does she know my mother?”. Another voice spoke out, with a darker undertone; “she chose her, to choose you, to bring forth the end of the curse placed on our beloved men. In the monument building, you will see we have kept our remaining young men chambered ready to see who can open and close the locket you adorn.” It was then at that moment, I knew my life was about to change drastically, again.

MAY 26th, 2020

16:34

The women that I thought were to have me hostage, actually brought me into the safe haven they’ve built for the sanctity of themselves and the protection of young children and young teenage boys who could become prey to the men. I was provided warm food, a well needed hot shower, and a chance to restock supply if I choose. It seemed to be the wind that flushed against me may have been the spirit guide of my lost ones, because now I’ve discovered heaven, or at least I think I have. The first woman’s voice is very prominent amongst other women, seemingly tyrannical. Her steps thump over the marble and concrete of the echoing hall towards me, and to her side is a slim, ginger kid whom she brashly introduces me to. “This is my son, Arthur Cochran. I am—” to which she was interjected just as brashly but with little confidence “Art.. call me Art. That’s my mom Annie”. “Hello Art. My name is Lorraine.. Reign for short” I reply with a slight bit of confusion as to why I’m being introduced. He blushes as if he’d never seen a cute Tomboy before. “Now that you have met, it has been prompted to me that you two are going to vanish the curse over the world beginning the first of July. As if we were in an anime, Question marks raised figuratively above Art and I for we had no idea of what we were both here for. Before I began to speak I heard a that dark voice speak in a foreign language

Mu ohun kan ti o jẹ ti mi pada wa tabi dojukọ agbaye kan nibiti awọn ọkunrin rii ara wọn ti n parun ohun ti o fẹrẹ ṣe pataki julọ fun u, awọn eeyan ti iru rẹ.

And that’s when I felt the same wind outside in a closed place, a strange occurrence that definitely prompted me to be a part of a divine intervention over the world. The effect held the opposite of Art. Annie then says “a generation of pure men will see harmony with the women they have not brought enough harmony to, collectively.. all thanks to my son”

Annie then says “Please rest here for a week, gather yourselves. This is your last page here until the 1st. A new story begins.”

A new surge of heroinism is afoot. I will guide and protect this young man like he was my brother, starting the 1st of July

JULY 1st, 2020

05:19

The entire monument building was awakened early by an Incredibly loud and machine gun like knocks plague the giant oak doors and barricades. The young boys held in a woman made cell cry for help as they know they are about to become prey to the outside world. I rush to grab my supply and find Art. What a coincidence that today starts with chaos as the first step.

07:10

The men breakthrough, being shot at and almost resistant to the bullets that penetrate them. Their only innate goal is the flesh of the people closest to their resemblance. Throughout the chaos of bullets and women defending their beloved young men, they fall short and now blood and sorrow cling to the walls and bodies. We make a swift escape. While we maneuvered I noticed Art and grabbed him. We meshed our chest for a brief second for me to only notice the heart shaped locket has opened for the first time in my life. At that moment I knew my duty was solidified. “Run to the car I scream” and when we got to the car panting and emotionally derailed I noticed Annie and the woman with the dark voice in the chaos waving to us as we fled.

In my bag I grab my map only to find it has been marked with its own map to Salem, MA.

July 2nd, 2020

I didn’t write for the rest of the day. I began to shortly notice that Art was changing.

UPDATE: Route 1 trail is smooth sailing

Slight detour east to Chelsea for food search

Little activity of adult men

July 3rd, 2020

18:11

New car found with half a tank of gas

The necklace is beginning to shine brighter the closer we inch to Salem. But Arthur seems to be doing worse. “What can I do for you Art”? To his reply with strained breathing and profuse sweat covering him “let me write what might be my last statement before my birthday tomorrow”.

FROM ART

“I turn 18 tomorrow. I didn’t know on my 18th birthday I’d celebrate saving the rest of mankind by simply having the courage to deliver a necklace to where it belongs. Who knew the power of women’s tongues could truly condemn man this way. And as I ache, and resist in weakness what this curse will inevitably bring to me if I don’t make it before 9:01a.m. tomorrow, I know it’s this woman, Tituba’s Wish, or one man to do good for the benefit of universal virtue, for man and womankind.”