Day 2 – Dancing with Wolves (English Translation)
The image flickered on, casting a steady, pale yellow glow that danced across the bunker's crumbling walls. The camera was still in its usual place, perched on the edge of the old table. A few more canned goods had been added to the shelves in the background. The man leaned forward slightly, his voice rough, the weight of a sleepless night pressing beneath his eyes. His right shoulder was wrapped tightly in dirty cloth, and a faint stain of dried blood had bloomed through the gauze. He kept his gaze low, as if the camera were simply part of the room. "Day two," he muttered, voice low. "My shoulder still throbs. But it's not broken. Just torn. Deep, but not deadly. I guess that counts as surviving." He reached up with his left hand and touched the bandage. His lips tightened. "You're probably wondering what happened to it. I suppose... it's time to tell that story." The camera shook ever so slightly, either from his movement or the weight of the memory. His voice became clearer, as if the act of speaking brought his mind back into the room. "About a week ago… I was in another shelter. A zoo. Yeah, you heard that right. A fucking zoo. Most of the animals had either died or escaped long ago. Chains broken, glass shattered, nature unleashed. Some died of hunger. Others adapted better than we did. Way better." He rubbed his shoulder again, wincing slightly. "The upper levels were a mess. But I found an old container unit, still mostly intact. That became my shelter. At night, I'd hear the wolves. Howling. Not just one or two—whole packs. That kind of sound… it crawls under your skin. But one night… something changed. They didn't howl. One of them... laughed."
He let out a breath. A twisted grin flickered across his face. "Yeah. Laughed. Not howled. Laughed. At first I thought I'd lost it. That the loneliness was finally breaking me. But then I thought—what if it was a person? What if someone was mimicking them? Maybe a call for help. Maybe a trap. Either way... I had to check. That was my mistake." He stared into the lens now, his eyes sharp and glassy. "Curiosity is always a mistake in this age." Silence. Then he continued. "I grabbed a rusted metal rod. That's all I had. No gun. Just instinct. The moon was... blinding. Everything shimmered like ice. I walked slowly, carefully. Then the sound came again—closer. And that's when it hit me. No warning. No growl. Just fangs."
He turned his shoulder slightly toward the camera. "Right here. Sunk in like cold iron. Tore through skin and muscle like paper. I don't remember if I screamed. I think I was too shocked. But somehow... I fought back. Slammed a piece of jagged rebar into its throat. It bucked, clawed at me, but finally went limp. I didn't feel victorious. I just felt... numb." He paused, glanced off to the side as if reliving the moment. "So yeah. That's what this is. A souvenir from the wild." Another beat of silence. Then a smirk. "But here's the kicker—I ate it. Yup. Cooked its meat. Ate every bite. When you're starving in the end times, morals are a luxury. And honestly..." He leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. "It kind of felt like revenge. Like the zoo bit back." His smile grew darker. "Proud to announce... my veganism is officially over."
Back in the chat, a few more users had trickled in. Gürkan, still silently watching, noticed names he hadn't seen yesterday.
[bigbyteYT]: bro this RP is wild LOL
[l33tzombiez]: the acting is actually kinda insane haha
[sundaydead]: twitch roleplay gold right here lmao
And then someone more critical:
[codedillusion]: shouldn't he be a zombie by now if he got bit? Plot hole?
The man, unaware of the chat, pressed on. In his world, he was still alone. The stream, to him, was just an echo chamber. A whisper box in a world gone silent.
"After I cooked the meat," he said, "I felt stronger. Maybe just in my head. Or maybe my body finally stopped eating itself. Or maybe... that wolf took something with it. Something rotten." He flexed his fingers slowly. "Last night was the first night in weeks I didn't dream. Maybe he took my nightmares too." He opened a worn notebook on the table, scribbled something. The soft scratch of pen on paper bled into the stream. "Today, I changed the dressing. Hung up the wolf's pelt by the door. It's my decoration now. Decorative and psychological. A warning: I bite back." He glanced at the camera again. "I watched the stars last night. The sky's still there. Still talking. It hasn't given up on us. Not yet."
He sat back, stretching the bad arm and wincing again. The pain was real, but manageable. "Whoever you are, if you're watching this... yeah, I'm talking to you now. This isn't just a survival log. This is a record. A gravestone with breath. This place is a cemetery. But as long as I'm breathing... I can scream into the silence. Maybe someone will hear it. Maybe not."
His voice grew softer. "Sometimes I wish someone would answer.
But maybe... maybe the silence is the answer."
He re-adjusted the camera slightly, bringing himself back into focus. He changed the bandage with gritted teeth. "Tomorrow, I'll go out. Need more food. This place... it's not safe forever. I'll bring the camera. I'll keep talking. Maybe these words will crawl into someone's dreams one day.
Or their nightmares.
Either works for me."
The screen began to fade slightly as the broadcast reached its quiet close. Chat remained active.
[deepfakegod]: bro someone needs to turn this into a movie fr
[techstudent94]: okay if this is actually real, we should be doing something??
[memedovari]: god-tier storytelling. no cap.
Then one final line from a strange user:
[nullsyntax]: This man is real. So is the stream. You don't understand yet. But you will.