One of the goblin creatures

What once were fingernails, were sharp, grubby talon-like things. What once was it's face, was a mess of mustard coloured warts and black, bloodshot eyes. It was a grotesque, pulsating mass, with one more arm than it should have had. I had seen them before of course, but not since before my blackout.

In fact I had been wondering where they all went more than anything, wondering if my mother or brother were still out there. Or even my sisters, though I never got to find out what happened to them. And here it was.

It was clear we'd scared each other, but this little bastard clearly possessed the instincts of a savage beast. After it had initially jumped backwards, it lunged at me. Immediately I felt a sharp sting on my face, as it's claw/talon/finger thing slashed down at me, cutting down my brow, barely missing my left eye, and across my cheek. I could feel blood dripping down me.

I was woefully under-prepared, having grown careless in the past couple of weeks encountering no trouble at all. Whilst I did keep a knife on me for self defence, it was stored in my backpack, which I now scrambled to access, as the goblin harrassed me, continuing it's ****. I used the backpack itself as a sort of shield as I reached into the side pocket, pulling out a rather pathetic kitchen knife. Once I had it in my grip, I let loose, flailing my arms around, stabbing and slashing in an aimless fury, as animalistic as the thing on top of me.

I don't know how long I was fighting the thing for, but it was most likely dead long before I stopped hacking at its corpse. I'd never felt anything like that before, never killed anything. Especially not a person, because whatever it had become, the goblin creature had once been human.

I broke down after this. It could have been my own mother, or a friend of mine. I had no way of knowing. But I had to live with the burden of that possibility. It changed me, that moment. That night, I vowed to myself that I must toughen up, if I was to survive in this new world. I had to equip myself with means of not only defence, but of attack.

I scoured all over the nearby towns and countryside over the next week, finding all sorts of useful items. In the house of someone who was obviously a bit of a medieval buff, there was a collection of weaponry including swords, bows and crossbows. I scoured the farms, finding the odd licensed shotgun, as well as an ex-WWII service revolver, that had obviously been kept well hidden by the owner in the decades following the war.

It proved to be a wise decision. Ever since that first incident, more and more of the goblins began crawling out of the woodworks. I realised they had been seemingly hiding in the trees, but were now, for whatever reason (perhaps the total absence of humans) taking to the streets, in large numbers.

Another couple of weeks must have passed after that, as I used the little shits for target practice, clearing them out like vermin, I became more and more desensitised to ****, and stopped caring for what they once had been. Now they were simply competition for food.

Walking down a run down street one evening, I noticed a small horde of around 20 goblins, all surrounding one house. The windows were still boarded, but they were tearing it apart, desperately clawing to get through.

They must be able to smell something I can't. I thought. Perhaps some huge stash of rotten vegetables. But then I heard a yell. At first, I figured the goblins must have caught someone's poor helpless cat. But then they yelled again, and this time, I heard words. "HELP!!!! PLEASE!!!!"