Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29791712-20150813204801

Hello creepypasta readers. I haven't posted anything in such a long time, and it's due to me working on a very long and strenuous project for about a month or so. I plan to post a lot more stories now that I have all the time I need. Here's the first half of a story I have been working on, and I plan to publish the full thing right after this review. The reason why I want to just place the first half is because this is my first Journal/Diary Entry Creepypasta, and it is something I have never done before. I wanted to try it out, and want to see what you guys think.

Day One 10:23 P.M.:

My name is Mark Guzman. I am twenty-five years old, and I am currently employed by the State of New Jersey. I don’t mean to write my entire background in this diary entry, but I feel it is confidential and essential information for you, the reader, to know why I would work for the government in my young and graceful age. Also it is important for you to even know why in the world a person like me would agree to partake in such a— how I should put this— insane job that requires someone with far more improved qualities and courage that I, unfortunately, do not contain. In fact I am the least probable person to even suggest to do this labor.

See the thing is that I was in terrible debt. As some wise men would say, “desperate times calls for desperate measures.” I live through that fucking quote. Now notice how I said “was” in horrific debt since I didn’t agree to do this job unless the State paid me beforehand, which they had the courtesy to do so. So my savings account currently has over half a million dollars, which to me is as much as an incentive to induce myself to this setting of uneasiness. To do something this daring, there has to be a bonus received by it, and I have better received that bonus before I even do whatever the person asks me to do. That’s just the mentality I have, and perhaps that is why I found myself without a single penny in the first place.

Now you may be asking yourself, “What in the world has this man agreed to do?” Well that is a very wise question, and something that I would like to confront right now. There had been a nuclear accident in the Hope Creek Nuclear Generating Station all the way south in New Jersey in Salem County. I didn’t particularly pay attention to all the enriching details about the explosion and all, and it was due to my ignorance and lack of awareness at what goes on in nuclear power plants. I only paid close attention to the words and phrases that I did comprehend.

There was some problem with multiple objects and parts in the entire power plant. So many mechanical roles went haywire, which caused a chain-reaction of event to unfold themselves in a disastrous night. It all began with the cooling systems. It somehow malfunctioned, and wasn’t able to remove heat from the reactor core in order to transport it into another area of that plant. Usually the thermal energy is harnessed to produce electricity, or as a heat source for the boiler. There are also a plethora of other function this extra energy gets migrated to. But on June 10, 2012, the cooling systems had a bit of a difficulty.

Now what would be expected if something dire happens to a power plant, the safety valves would step in to play and perform their role in any power plant. Their main priority is to prevent pipes from bursting due to intense energy, or to stop the reactor from exploding. Since the cooling systems were breaking down, many thought the safety valves would do their part. But the valves also malfunctioned, which resulted in a devastating accident.

The generator, which gathers kinetic energy in order to convert it to electrical energy, exploded with massive strength and potential power to light up all of New York City for a decade. The steam turbine overflowed with nuclear continents to a limit where they couldn’t handle the flow of power, so they as well ended with an outstanding boom! In all the nuclear reactor felt the harsh and pounding troubles of its entire power plant collapsing and falling apart, so it as well collapse and fell apart. Radioactive spills occurred, so basically a small little nuke gave birth to itself right in that power plant. Over ten worker died in the accident. Apart from the ten that were deceased, three employees were presumed missing. Every other worker managed to escape before bad turned to worse by the skin of their teeth. These were to be proved as the luckiest of the group. I couldn’t agree more.

I think we all know from Chernobyl by now what the following events took place as soon as that power plant went ape-shit. An immediate evacuation was held, and transferred over sixty-five thousand people from all of Salem County to another county or state. Again, I didn’t much care for the details. I just know that no radioactive diseases or cancers were transmitted due to American’s biggest fault of having the audacious balls to proceed with something that they know can cause a massacre across their country, and yet they continue to endure the punishment despite the warnings signs and hints natures displays. Yay US. Get it?

Anyways, I shouldn’t really be talking shit about the people who have given me almost half a million dollars just to do this crappy job for one week. Ah yes, I had to get back to my point in which what exactly is my specific job the State of New Jersey so happily agreed to deliver to me. Well one thing led to another, and now I found myself stranded alone in the exact nuclear power plant in which the terrible tragedy occurred. That’s right, I am in Hope Creek Nuclear Generating Station: Home of the dead and soon to be! My task is to basically observe, scavenge, and find anything, and they mean anything, useful or important either left behind or hidden amongst this part of town. I have to spend one week inside the radioactive setting with a specially designed suit they rendered me that would allow my body to not be affected by the radioactive isotopes roaming around in the air every second of the day. I have to wear this suit every moment I step outside into this reality of furtive horrors, and unexpected demons waiting to either crawl out from the ground or to tear a hole in the sky.

They have been planning to send some idiot to the hotspot three years ago when the dismal event first happened. See the government has been developing these enhanced tools and objects to be used in case an event like this ever happens. One of the first things they have created was the suit that I wrote about. It’s especially designed to withstand all radioactive isotopes despite their half-life, energy source, and power it contains. It’s a basic jump-suit with the interior texture to be some advanced material that feels closely to cotton and silk combined. The coloring inside is a basic red, which gives the inside of the suit a very anxious emotion. The outside of the suit is also sewed from the same material from the inside, but with another layer on top of that one. The external coloring is a pale white with little blotches of gray embellished near the limbs. The reason this specific design was made was not in an artistic sense, but in a survival one. If I so happened to either get lost or forgotten in the land outside during nighttime, a rescuing crew can locate where I am abandoned in a matter of minutes due to a special chip installed inside the suit. But if something wrong goes on with the chip, then the rescuing team can locate me due to my bright and discerning color.

That is one of the things these mad scientists have created. Another is a tent-like housing igloo that I can use as my main base when I get transferred to the hotspot. Currently I am writing this journal entry inside this igloo they have designed. This base is as big as a basement in any typical house. There’s only a sufficient amount of room for the necessary items I require in order for my survival. I have a fridge filled with all kind of foods and snacks to my desire, a tiny tub with a poke-a-dot patterned curtain in which I had no say in for, a twin-sized bed with blue sheets, a blue blanket, and blue pillow casings (again I had no say in this insipid room), and a desk with shelves where I can place all of my belongings that I decided to bring with me. I also have my luggage in which contains my clothing that I would be wearing for over a week. The scientists gave me seven suits to use for the entire week since the lifespan of these armors can only last twenty-four hours. These are all placed in a large, brown drawer.

The igloo is running by an energy source than can last for about a year, according to the information the government gave me in the contract I signed; so I have enough energy and light source to last me a long time. David Taylor, the man who had offered me this job, spoke that there will not be a television for me to kill time, and suggested that I bring an outside source of entertainment; as long as it didn’t interfere or cause harm to either myself or the outside environment. Yeah, they’re telling me not to take with me an item that can possibly do harm to the outside environment, when they have done plenty of harm themselves. Bastards. I told David I’d bring a notebook, a pen to write on that notebook, and two novels (two just in case I finish the first one too early since I am a hasty reader).

“Perfect!” David had exclaimed. I can always recall the man being pitch handsome, the most beautiful bastard I had ever met. His hair was gelled back with a glossy and moist substance, which made his brown and thick hair stay put with nice curves and hooves that any type of woman can find attracted. He always had a well clean, clear, and soft face, with his tan facial features precise to the last hair on his eyebrows. The man wore an expensive suit the day we organized and discuss about this job I had to do in order to receive my riches. I don’t know jack shit about suits and the material they’re made out of, but this guy wore something that would dazzle a man as famous and narcissistic as Donald Trump. “Bring a notebook in order to write down the details you have noticed about the area. You’re an English major, right? You can write well, I assume?”

“Well, I guess you can say that,” I had mumbled. I felt really uncomfortable during the entire conversation. But this brings me to my next point I have to make. My thoughts on this entire project.

Well, first of all, I think whatever the government was trying to convince and inveigle me in order to respond yes to their statement and offer was all bullshit and they know it. Hell, I know it! “Yes, um, we have this particular labor duty in which you can attain large amounts of money! We’ve been thinking about sending a professional, but it’s not something a man like you can handle. I mean, you are a very civilized man who seems to be able to take care of himself. All you have to do is watch for anything strange, take notes on your surroundings, and retrieve any objects you may find interesting to gather.” Yeah, all of that was just crap to try to persuade me agree to this, which I did but it’s due to money source as I said. The worst part of it all was how they inculcated the ponderous thought on how I am doing a “public service for the entire community,” and how “you’ll be look at as a hero to the entire Salem county.” I could give a damn about people’s opinions, and how they display those opinions upon me. I just needed my money before I’m out on Wall Street with holes decorating my clothes, asking some douche businessman for some change, and he—or possible she, I don’t discriminate against woman who are assholes as well—giving me a look of utter sympathy and pity. It’s not my pride that roars in that situation, but my state of mind.

I think they just needed some guinea pig to test out their new toys, and yours truly was the perfect candidate. “Let’s get a middle-class worker who is currently unemployed, and who is young, and in scary debt!” Thanks, Obama. Whatever. As long as I am getting paid, then it’s all great to me.

I don’t think I am horrified for my life here, but rather a bit intimidated by my surroundings. I haven’t investigated my main objects since I had arrived here at night, and the State specifically informed me to only exit my camp during sunrise. They also stated how I couldn’t be outside during sunset. I had this very erotic sensation once I stepped onto this surreal environment. The State had dropped me down in a helicopter, and beforehand had stationed the igloo near where I landed. One thing I forgot to write about the igloo is that they have also installed this very awesome block that I need to use when I gather objects from the outside world. Since the things I am going to be bringing back with me have intensely high level of radioactivity, I have to place these items inside the box. The box is specially design to handle any level of radioactivity.

I’m an English major, so can you be any more surprise as to why I am in this situation. Currently the English department is not going that swell in the market. I have been ruminating about becoming an English teacher, but no opportunities seem to have come my way. This was the only job offering that I had left to take. I once read in a wise book, “Always take the money.”

Do not think of me as some cowardly character, but in fact view me as the most humane person there is. I have emotions, strengths, weaknesses, thoughts, anxiety, perception, sense, and in total a semi adaptable body and mind. David had said that this one week resort can improve my personality, and to try to see the light in some dark situations. I can well inform him that I see no light or darkness; just reality. I know that in this world it’s bind and bonded between both forces, but in order to truly live in such a universe, you have to conceal yourself from both powers. You have to walk between line of optimism and pessimism. You have to just know when something is true, or just a mere fraction of your imagination.

And I can well tell you that is place is very unrealistic. I say this not in a sense of some mystical fantasy land, but in the perspective that something very unnatural may be lurking amongst the grounds I am currently stationed on. Whatever hell chamber these men decided to send me in, allow them to do it. But if something terrible goes wrong in a result of my trip here, then you know who to blame. I don’t know what has happened over the past three years on this area, but I know it’s not something anyone would be anticipating with either excitement or joy.

Of course I am going to proceed to write two journals inside this igloo. One for my personal imagination and thoughts, and another one for the State to review and read over. In the latter notebook I would obviously censor my blabbering thoughts about how I think the government is unfair, stupid, and filled with soulless entities in which have no self-respect for either the people they supposedly represent, and for themselves. I’ll just jot down some notes here and there of what I have observed, and my upmost opinions on them. I wouldn’t overdo it to the point that it looks like I’m kissing their ass, but I will try to make me sound like a very, uh, benevolent person.

But there’s no benevolence where I am in. There’s no sign of human activity, no joyous vibe, no thrilling and smiling events happening around me, and no sanity where I am located in currently. There’s just this depressing state of unbalance and supernatural activity that digs deep to the skin on my body. It’s this presence of unease that makes my spinal cords jitter and freeze to the point of breaking apart. It’s this feeling I got once I stepped down on the ground that I somehow knew, in some prognostic way, I was destined to be doomed. But there was no turning back.

So I wait for the sun to rise. I wait for my first day of exploration.

Day 2. 10:38 P.M.:

My first day in exploring Hope Creek Nuclear Generating Station, which I’m now going to refer to as “The Station” since writing that name is cramping my wrist, went as fine as I can hope to say. I don’t know if “fine” can really summarize my overall feeling, since the entire time I felt so many emotions and dread throughout the entire exhibit.

My igloo was placed right next to one of the steam turbine that had exploded during the accident. When I exited from it during eight in the morning, it was the first real glance I had to observe. The government decided to send me near the central base of The Station so I can begin my expedition around the middle area where the accident had occurred. The steam turbine curved high in front of me, reaching heights as tall as buildings in New York City. I had no idea why the government decided to send a street boy as myself all the way south in New Jersey. I live in Jersey City all the way north up in Jersey. Moving to this new and foreign environment for a week was strange in many ways.

The steam turbine contains large chunks of its steel and metal either detached or blown away in result of the accident. Large and circular holes with rough and sharp edges could be spotted covering throughout the entire cylinder. The holes had a hollow opening, and each time I tried to stare precisely at an opening, I could see nothing but shadows overlapping themselves in a pile of darkness. The top of the steam turbine had most of it damaged, and made a tremendous and rigid curve once it reached a certain point. The grey and white steel gave the turbine no definition to it, and just brought more gloom to this early spring evening. The government made the best decision to send me here during the beginning of May. I enjoy a nice, light, breeze during any day in spring, and also it was just a tad bit warmer here than all the way up in the north.

I decided that the steam turbine would be one of the first objects I would investigate. My feet crunched against the crumbling cement ground below. There were also chunks of the road below my feet that were partially removed. The sky above me shed a blanket of grey and ominous clouds, and not a single sight of the sun above could be observed. Not even the blueness of the heavens above could be glanced at. Everything here just appeared so grey.

I approached the steam turbine within moments. As I advanced towards it, my heart made a quick leap to my throat. There were several scratch marks displayed all over the metallic covering of the steam turbine. I couldn’t identify the exact claw engravings due to the fact that I wasn’t an expert on animals and their nails. All I knew is that they were deeply dug to the point where it created a large slit through the impervious steel. It also didn’t appear as if the markings were made in a single slash, but there appeared to be some sort of struggle while the—the thing clawed on and on. In total there were about six obvious scratch marks shown in front of me, and they all had the same crimson coloring to the crooked lines that ran down about seven or eight inches.

Blood trailed down from the marks. A red and blemishing shade made the claw marks more alive and meaningful. The blood seemed as if it had been spilled recently, but not any time this month or so on. It didn’t have that rust or crispy texture to it yet, but anyone could notice how obviously dry the liquid was. I made the regrettable decision to loom in closer to the marks to catch a better view at the engravings. There I could see specific grooves and edges inside the empty lines with blood slipping down. I found this white substance at the end of one of the lines. I took a moment of hesitation to make a choice on what to do. At the end I grabbed it with my hands; they shook with horror.

It was some type of nail I had retrieved. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but I could tell it was a nail right away due to its curves and sharp ends. Also it had a yellowing shade to it, and contained all types of imperfections like chipped off pieces of it. This must have been the nail of whatever creature decided to toy around with the steam turbine, but the questioned still remained of who or what did this.

I had started off my day with a doleful mindset.

David, as well as several other professionals, had warned me about a very thorough problem that seems to always rise in such a case like a nuclear spill or explosion. They stated that there is a probability that certain animals or species can inhabit a landmass that has been stranded alone from humanity over a long period of time. In the case of Chernobyl, it is researched that wolves have taken over the entire setting within years of the nuclear power plant—not to also mention the entire city itself—being left alone by human kind. Wolves, and other such creatures, aren’t necessarily affected by the bitterness that comes with radioactivity. It’s just in our genetic coding, I assume, that is the reason why our bodies have specific consequences against such chemicals.

I imagined in then, wolves snarling at me with their fierce looks ready to attack and devour me at any moment. Their hungry and determined eyes studying me the way a lion might read a poor deer before it has had its meal. My twisted fantasy caused me to erupt goose flesh out of my skin. Even as I write this the horrors of being assaulted by a pack of wolves still bring me to my knees to plead for my life. After that incident I took my time to closely watch over my shoulders, and to pick up on any more findings of such markings.

Although some deep and unconscious part of my cerebral told me that it couldn’t be wolves. No, that part of my brain was yelling at my mind saying that is it not wolves or any such beast. The lines just seemed too narrow to be created by the thick and sharp nails of a wolf. Also there could be no apparent reason why blood would be leaking down the lines. Wolves should be prone to injuries or cuts in their paws. And it also begged the question as to why would any animal or thing would be wasting their time trying to dig through the steam turbine.

The duration of that morning and evening consisted of me just exploring around with all my enthusiasm drained out from my body. I spent most of my energy pondering on a solution or understanding as to why those marks were there. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t anything to be fussing about, and that I should at least do what the State wanted me to do since I have my money already; but my mind couldn’t be put to rest.

I went looking on. Trust me, there’s nothing spectacular about The Station and their nuclear power plant. I am one-hundred percent sure the government just sent me here to play around with their invention, and to be their “test dummy.” Every scientist needs one, and I fitted the perfect category. What I kept seeing was a repeated pattern of these medium-sized and large buildings with little to no sapid decorations. Road crossed on and beyond to the main road, and they were all just as ruined and destroyed as the rest of this junkyard of ancient history. In fact I feel as if I wasted paper even talking about the landmass.

The only interesting part of The Station is that it is, well, stationed right near the shore were the Atlantic Ocean is spewing waves each and every second. I plan to explore that part of the area tomorrow the first thing in the morning. I have to cross a land filled with these leaves and crops, but it would be worth the trip. I’m just the type of guy who enjoyed a good oceanic view; especially to watch the sunset.

Now, I didn’t want to write this in the fact that I didn’t want to recall this moment again, but I feel as if someone should know if anyone ever decides to read this shit. I raced back to my igloo before the sun could set. I watched as the blurry sky above me went from its enlightening shade of grey to a darker and hollow black indicated that the sun was about to set. At first it shot orange and dark red rays of light, and that was the first hint that I should head back to safety. But I was so engaged to find another clue to solve the mystery that had been polluting my mind throughout the entire evening. Once the sky turned black I knew I was fucked.

So I ran with my breath panting, and my legs aching. Once I reached back to my igloo, I took one last look at the steam turbine. That one look transformed to a desperate and curious urge to observe the turbine one last time. I sprinted towards the large and towering piece of metal with my heart fisting against my lungs. At this point nighttime was nothing to argue about, and if I didn’t return soon I could cause some problems with the State if they ever found out I stayed out pass my curfew.

The world seemed to stop as I reached the spot where I had seen the claw marks. I can’t quite describe the dismal emotion I felt once my eyes laid upon the steel surface in front of me. I don’t even want to reencounter the sudden suspense and dread that built up in my blood and bones in a panicking and trembling force. I couldn’t believe what I saw was real. The air that was once a delightful and cozy current dropped down to a piercing and freezing breeze that made me reminisce winter. I had a chill that was incurable. Although I couldn’t see my face, I knew it had gone pale white. The blood sucked away from my face, and seem to have been transported to my chest by how hard it was knocking itself.

There was freshly new, wedded blood smeared all over the metallic curve. And with that hot and thick blood was accompanied with brand new engravings from the same nails that had formed the previous markings. There were a plethora of newly scratch grooves shown all over the surface. I couldn’t count how many there were. I had seen large, deep, and fatten lacerations all over the steel. Then there were these tiny bits of microscopic cuts that almost brought out a laugh out of me (if it weren’t for the situation, that is). And all of them were drowning in the flood of blood splashed on the steel surface.

I jolted home. Jesus fucking Christ I can’t explain to you how fast I made it in front of my igloo. And you want to know what the worst part of it all is? The climax that had made me resent the decision I made to ever come here?

Before I could close the door behind me, a howling, retched yell sprang to life from the distance. It echoed and lingered in the air for a long, long time. I seem to felt its intense pulse as the scream washed over me with the freezing wind. It sent chills to shake my legs, and to put me in my cowardly place. The shout sounded high pitched, but it didn’t have any specific detail to it. It didn’t sound like someone or something being tortured or in deep pain, but it had that bizarre torment in it that could spark alarm. The yelling was followed by laughter. Chuckles that boomed in the air with such an edge to them I couldn’t believe my ears. It sounded like a pack of hyenas, and for a moment I thought they were. If wolves can make a home in an area like this, so too can hyenas, right?

Yes. I am correct. That is what I told myself as I closed the door. That is what I kept on convincing myself as I showered, and prepared for a good night sleep. That is what I kept on repeating to myself as I wrote this entire entry down. That is what I tell myself even when my own hand lack the dexterity to jot down these words since I am utterly tired. My eyes sag down with a depress drop, and my body feels taken away from all of its youth and effort.

But I know the truth. Deep down in my soul, I somehow know the answer.

''I am not alone here. 