16th August. Sheen
I was roused early this morning when the chapel's curate came in. He was quite understanding at the time, although I'm none too sure about his condition now. He gave me a drink and a modest breakfast in the vestry while recalling the events that had taken place the day before. After the five giants had been across Byfleet, snatching people up in all corners seemingly at random, the whitish one, the orange one and the pink one all turned round and made their way due West while the purple one moved straight towards Weybridge and, from what I understand, snatched up the train I was one in the same magenta glow along with as many of the people who had disembarked as could be found. The sky-blue one had actually managed to take flight with its wings and was last seen moving North-West, but most disturbing of all was that people talked about seeing more of these massive horse-like shapes in the distance North-East of the remnants of Woking. I felt most anxious that my sanctuary the previous night could've proven to be an inadvertent trap had the purple unicorn carried on through the town, but the curate affirmed that it had promptly turned back towards the West after taking the train apart into its individual carriages and locomotive. I made it clear that I intended to try and return to my wife as best I could, whereupon he insisted on joining me in the hopes of offering guidance; I had my doubts about him at the time but couldn't very well refuse, although I have regretted it.
It's most unfortunate that I have run short of coin, however my experiences the previous day have left me doubting the efficacy of the railway network in these circumstances. I went down to the Thames while a steady stream of people have been following the roads away from the general direction that the equine beasts have been coming from, and it was upon the bank I found a passable rowing boat that provided the two of us a reasonable means of getting down the river. It was while we were passing the area of Walton that the first signs of alien activity occurred, as I heard the distant thuds of gigantic hooves impacting the ground and saw, in the distance, at least six massive figures moving forwards in a slightly wider array than before. The curate made a tremendous outcry at one point which made me turn to him sharply, and I saw his arm up and pointing with a trembling figure at one of the beasts that I could just about make out was the shocking-pink one.
"Its crushed!" He jabbered. "That was the church!" I then understood; the pink one had jumped right on top of his parish church, demolishing it almost instantly without any sign of really registering the impact it had caused. I began to offer my commiserations when he continued. "WHY?!? What have we done to deserve this?!" I blinked, stunned by this change in his demeanour. I turned my attention back to the fairly distant view of the massive equines while he kept jabbering about all the efforts he'd made to tutor his parishioners and the fund-raising for the chapel, watching as the purple unicorn came up alongside the pink creature and they said something to each other, the words taking a while to reach us and coming through like the sound of neighing down a deep mine shaft. Then the unicorn's horn illuminated in magenta again, but this time it built up a ball of swirling blue light for a minute or so before it slammed right down in the streets of Weybridge and erupted into a fluorescent blue cloud that permeated the entire area. I don't know what it was and didn't wish to be subjected to the prospect of potentially being poisoned and so rowed as fast as I could.
We were going past Molesey when I saw a dreadful sight on the far bank. Another of those enormous houses had turned up in Bushey Park; the curate stared and pointed at it with an expression of confusion, forcing me to recall the sudden appearances on Horsell Common and in Pyrford. His response was an incomprehensible diatribe about demonic forces and the coming of the Apocalypse, forcing me to relax the oars and grab his shoulders to try and shake some sense into him. He calmed down enough for me to get back to the oars, but I kept a close eye on him until we reached Richmond where the boat ended up on shore. I figure that he'd been rather more lax about keeping watch on our path and I was too concerned with watching his behaviour while also keeping an eye out for any more alien giants.
We'd been following a steady flow of refugees all afternoon before turning up a side street in search of more provisions. The area was rather barren for a suburban setting, not even a sign of any soldiers guarding the area was to be found. We found a few houses with their doors wide open and were compelled to scrounge among other people's larders and pantries before we set off once more. We have found that the housing in Sheen has been effectively emptied of any and all residents by now, and hence we have opted to spend the night in one that seems to be just enough out of the way to reduce the chance of being given a hard time by the army or police, as long as we can make our way again on the morrow.
17th August. Sheen
I struggle to write this in the gloom of the space available. The cellar has more space but the light is much worse down there. The curate is staring out through the only real window we've got left.
Last night I was momentarily woken by a tremendous explosion accompanied by the feeling of being thrown across the room, which must've knocked me out because the next time I awoke the curate was crouching over me in a space that looked like an army trench that had been hit by an artillery shell. He bade me to keep still due to all the broken crockery strewn around, fearing for the effect of the noise it would make. He told me that they were close and I had a terrible feeling what he meant, especially when I recalled what I could of the dreadful bang. He cautiously moved most of the crockery out of my way until we were sure I could rise quietly and then we both moved as much as we could into a stable-enough pile in the corner. I could now see that the house had effectively been smashed with one of the walls being replaced with a sheer white marble one, evidently indicating that we are now right next to the fifth of the houses that have been spawning monstrous equine creatures.
There's enough space in the kitchen and we are well-supplied by the pantry, but I can only conclude that the coal cellar will have to function as our sleeping quarters, but the parlour's partially caved in even though it is the only space available with a reasonable window. I dread to think of how my wife fares, indeed I suspect that she has had to evacuate from Leatherhead in turn.
I had opted to look at our supply of food and drink and have made arrangements for it to be rationed between effectively. After this I took the opportunity to take a look outside, where I saw that the marble wall soared up high into the same kind of structure that was on Horsell Common. I can't be sure which side of this structure we are on as I cannot see any sign of a door or anything else from the parlour window, although it's not a proper window as any glass is a distant memory and it occupies an area about the size of my hand. I did see some equine shapes thundering around in the distance, one of which seemed to be a whole head taller than the others and had a tomato-red coat. Any sign of the streets and houses that had been there before had been rendered unrecognisable due to the appearance of this latest structure and the passage of various giants has pretty much torn up the whole area by my reckoning.
I was just about to leave this and look into gathering as much bedding material as we could when I noticed the blue mist from the previous day swirling just past a rise in the land and tensed for fear of what it might do if it got inside. It seemed to slink along the low-lying spaces, drawing ever closer. I scrambled back, bringing out my rather ragged handkerchief and covering my face as it started seeping in, the curate had started towards the window when he saw me with my handkerchief on my face and began to fret. He gasped as the mist rolled through the space and coughed a couple of times, making me worry for my own breathing. Then, just as suddenly, the mist appeared to vanish, leaving me to give an experimental cough that made me realise that my ears had been flooded with the sensation that occurs when one's immersed in water. When this feeling cleared I realised that there was a momentary smell of ozone that was pretty strong, rather like after a thunderstorm has passed through.
I do not know what that mist was meant to be, but there are new sounds emanating from outside, like the sound of people in a marketplace combined with the volume of a drill sergeant in the middle of the Albert Hall. I hope this means there's another group sheltering nearby, though if they are they're in much greater risk of being caught than us for they're failing to keep their voices down.
I was roused early this morning when the chapel's curate came in. He was quite understanding at the time, although I'm none too sure about his condition now. He gave me a drink and a modest breakfast in the vestry while recalling the events that had taken place the day before. After the five giants had been across Byfleet, snatching people up in all corners seemingly at random, the whitish one, the orange one and the pink one all turned round and made their way due West while the purple one moved straight towards Weybridge and, from what I understand, snatched up the train I was one in the same magenta glow along with as many of the people who had disembarked as could be found. The sky-blue one had actually managed to take flight with its wings and was last seen moving North-West, but most disturbing of all was that people talked about seeing more of these massive horse-like shapes in the distance North-East of the remnants of Woking. I felt most anxious that my sanctuary the previous night could've proven to be an inadvertent trap had the purple unicorn carried on through the town, but the curate affirmed that it had promptly turned back towards the West after taking the train apart into its individual carriages and locomotive. I made it clear that I intended to try and return to my wife as best I could, whereupon he insisted on joining me in the hopes of offering guidance; I had my doubts about him at the time but couldn't very well refuse, although I have regretted it.
It's most unfortunate that I have run short of coin, however my experiences the previous day have left me doubting the efficacy of the railway network in these circumstances. I went down to the Thames while a steady stream of people have been following the roads away from the general direction that the equine beasts have been coming from, and it was upon the bank I found a passable rowing boat that provided the two of us a reasonable means of getting down the river. It was while we were passing the area of Walton that the first signs of alien activity occurred, as I heard the distant thuds of gigantic hooves impacting the ground and saw, in the distance, at least six massive figures moving forwards in a slightly wider array than before. The curate made a tremendous outcry at one point which made me turn to him sharply, and I saw his arm up and pointing with a trembling figure at one of the beasts that I could just about make out was the shocking-pink one.
"Its crushed!" He jabbered. "That was the church!" I then understood; the pink one had jumped right on top of his parish church, demolishing it almost instantly without any sign of really registering the impact it had caused. I began to offer my commiserations when he continued. "WHY?!? What have we done to deserve this?!" I blinked, stunned by this change in his demeanour. I turned my attention back to the fairly distant view of the massive equines while he kept jabbering about all the efforts he'd made to tutor his parishioners and the fund-raising for the chapel, watching as the purple unicorn came up alongside the pink creature and they said something to each other, the words taking a while to reach us and coming through like the sound of neighing down a deep mine shaft. Then the unicorn's horn illuminated in magenta again, but this time it built up a ball of swirling blue light for a minute or so before it slammed right down in the streets of Weybridge and erupted into a fluorescent blue cloud that permeated the entire area. I don't know what it was and didn't wish to be subjected to the prospect of potentially being poisoned and so rowed as fast as I could.
We were going past Molesey when I saw a dreadful sight on the far bank. Another of those enormous houses had turned up in Bushey Park; the curate stared and pointed at it with an expression of confusion, forcing me to recall the sudden appearances on Horsell Common and in Pyrford. His response was an incomprehensible diatribe about demonic forces and the coming of the Apocalypse, forcing me to relax the oars and grab his shoulders to try and shake some sense into him. He calmed down enough for me to get back to the oars, but I kept a close eye on him until we reached Richmond where the boat ended up on shore. I figure that he'd been rather more lax about keeping watch on our path and I was too concerned with watching his behaviour while also keeping an eye out for any more alien giants.
We'd been following a steady flow of refugees all afternoon before turning up a side street in search of more provisions. The area was rather barren for a suburban setting, not even a sign of any soldiers guarding the area was to be found. We found a few houses with their doors wide open and were compelled to scrounge among other people's larders and pantries before we set off once more. We have found that the housing in Sheen has been effectively emptied of any and all residents by now, and hence we have opted to spend the night in one that seems to be just enough out of the way to reduce the chance of being given a hard time by the army or police, as long as we can make our way again on the morrow.
17th August. Sheen
I struggle to write this in the gloom of the space available. The cellar has more space but the light is much worse down there. The curate is staring out through the only real window we've got left.
Last night I was momentarily woken by a tremendous explosion accompanied by the feeling of being thrown across the room, which must've knocked me out because the next time I awoke the curate was crouching over me in a space that looked like an army trench that had been hit by an artillery shell. He bade me to keep still due to all the broken crockery strewn around, fearing for the effect of the noise it would make. He told me that they were close and I had a terrible feeling what he meant, especially when I recalled what I could of the dreadful bang. He cautiously moved most of the crockery out of my way until we were sure I could rise quietly and then we both moved as much as we could into a stable-enough pile in the corner. I could now see that the house had effectively been smashed with one of the walls being replaced with a sheer white marble one, evidently indicating that we are now right next to the fifth of the houses that have been spawning monstrous equine creatures.
There's enough space in the kitchen and we are well-supplied by the pantry, but I can only conclude that the coal cellar will have to function as our sleeping quarters, but the parlour's partially caved in even though it is the only space available with a reasonable window. I dread to think of how my wife fares, indeed I suspect that she has had to evacuate from Leatherhead in turn.
I had opted to look at our supply of food and drink and have made arrangements for it to be rationed between effectively. After this I took the opportunity to take a look outside, where I saw that the marble wall soared up high into the same kind of structure that was on Horsell Common. I can't be sure which side of this structure we are on as I cannot see any sign of a door or anything else from the parlour window, although it's not a proper window as any glass is a distant memory and it occupies an area about the size of my hand. I did see some equine shapes thundering around in the distance, one of which seemed to be a whole head taller than the others and had a tomato-red coat. Any sign of the streets and houses that had been there before had been rendered unrecognisable due to the appearance of this latest structure and the passage of various giants has pretty much torn up the whole area by my reckoning.
I was just about to leave this and look into gathering as much bedding material as we could when I noticed the blue mist from the previous day swirling just past a rise in the land and tensed for fear of what it might do if it got inside. It seemed to slink along the low-lying spaces, drawing ever closer. I scrambled back, bringing out my rather ragged handkerchief and covering my face as it started seeping in, the curate had started towards the window when he saw me with my handkerchief on my face and began to fret. He gasped as the mist rolled through the space and coughed a couple of times, making me worry for my own breathing. Then, just as suddenly, the mist appeared to vanish, leaving me to give an experimental cough that made me realise that my ears had been flooded with the sensation that occurs when one's immersed in water. When this feeling cleared I realised that there was a momentary smell of ozone that was pretty strong, rather like after a thunderstorm has passed through.
I do not know what that mist was meant to be, but there are new sounds emanating from outside, like the sound of people in a marketplace combined with the volume of a drill sergeant in the middle of the Albert Hall. I hope this means there's another group sheltering nearby, though if they are they're in much greater risk of being caught than us for they're failing to keep their voices down.
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April 19
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