Field Report: Subject SARAH Researcher ID: 0427-S Location: Remote Forest Research Site and Adjacent Settlements Date: [Classified]
Summary: This report documents the sequence of events following an unrecorded, catastrophic atmospheric phenomenon resembling the aftereffects of a comet impact, observed from a remote forest research site. I am the sole surviving researcher, stranded in an environment now profoundly altered. This account is precise, detailing environmental changes, anomalous phenomena, behavioral shifts in flora and fauna, and the progressive human crisis witnessed. The tone reflects escalating fear and isolation, as survival becomes uncertain.
INITIAL CONDITIONS On the event day, I was operating alone at the main monitoring station, located in a dense temperate forest approximately 15 km from the nearest small town (name withheld for security). My colleagues were engaged in specimen analysis roughly 5 km south. Weather and environmental parameters were within normal ranges at dawn.
At approximately 0800 hours, an official alert system broadcast activated—transmitting a prerecorded message instructing all personnel to seek immediate shelter and brace for an extreme event. No additional context or explanation was provided. I attempted realtime contact with the field team and headquarters but received no response. Communication arrays were silent.
IMMEDIATE RESPONSE AND PANIC ROOM OCCUPATION I secured the main site, initiating lockdown procedures and entering the reinforced panic room by 0830 hours. The room maintained environmental control and communications functionality, albeit with no incoming signals. Throughout the night, the atmosphere outside deteriorated; sound dampened unnaturally, and an oppressive stillness enveloped the forest.
Dawn brought no changes to external conditions or communications. I exited the panic room for visual reconnaissance. The sky was dominated by immense cloud formations—dense, coal-black, and unusually stationary. Air temperature dropped 4–6°C below normal seasonal averages, humidity was elevated, yet precipitation was absent.
ATTEMPTED CONTACT AND DECISION TO EVACUATE Persistent attempts to reach headquarters and my team yielded silence. Given mounting concern and absence of response, I resolved to move toward the nearest town on foot for potential assistance and resources. Before departure, I noted:
— Animal activity was markedly diminished. Normally abundant avian calls were absent. — Mammals, including species that do not ordinarily hibernate (e.g., foxes, raccoons), were found curled in dens or shallow burrows in a dormant state. — Insects had retreated into microhabitats. — Vegetation exhibited no immediate unusual symptoms, though leaves appeared dull and moisture-laden.
JOURNEY THROUGH THE FOREST Over two days of travel, the oppressive cloud cover persisted unaltered. Light levels remained dim; a permanent twilight seemed imposed. I observed:
— Complete silence. No bird song, insect buzzing, or animal movement. — Ambient temperature maintained around 8°C below expected diurnal highs. — Occasional gusts of cold wind carried an acrid, sulfurous odor. — Soil moisture content remained stable, but surface evaporation appeared suppressed.
The mental strain of the unnatural quiet was profound; instincts urged caution, yet continued movement was imperative.
ARRIVAL AND SURVEY OF THE TOWN Upon arrival, the town presented an eerie tableau:
— Streets were deserted; vehicles abandoned mid-travel. — Residences and businesses showed no signs of forced entry or chaos. — Unopened doors, unlit interiors. — Ambient temperature estimated 12°C below norm inside structures, despite radiators operating at minimal levels.
Through windows and upon close inspection, I observed humans in various postures of slumber—some seated upright in cars, others reclined on beds or floors. Attempts to rouse individuals through vocalization and tactile stimuli failed. Medical assessment with available supplies (pupil response, respiration) indicated a sleep-like state analogous to REM but without normal awakening response.
ENVIRONMENTAL AND BIOLOGICAL OBSERVATIONS IN TOWN — Faunal presence was nonexistent. — Domestic animals (cats, dogs) were similarly inert. — Microbial sampling suggested no immediate pathogenic causation. — Atmospheric analysis revealed elevated particulate matter, consistent with atmospheric debris from a disrupted celestial object. — No electromagnetic anomalies detected.
WEEKLY PROGRESS AND DETERIORATION I have subsisted on supplies scavenged from supermarkets and homes. Food and water stocks remain sufficient, but signs of human attrition are mounting. Deceased individuals have been discovered, predominantly those exposed outdoors or unable to access hydration.
Autopsies (rudimentary) indicate dehydration as primary cause of death, with several cases of hypothermia. No evidence of trauma or disease observed. Human bodies exhibit cold skin temperatures, no signs of blood coagulation abnormalities or systemic infection.
I have attempted to establish controlled environmental zones to preserve hydration and temperature but am limited by resources.
CONCLUSIONS AND CURRENT STATUS The event appears to have induced a global or regional neurological impairment, forcing humans and animals into a suspended, unresponsive state. The atmosphere remains hostile—darkened skies, sustained cold, and silence. Ecological functions are disrupted; the biotic community is in forced dormancy, yet no typical hibernation triggers are present.
The absence of any recorded impact event suggests an atmospheric or near-Earth disruption of unknown origin, possibly cometary or meteoric, whose physical effects bypassed stellar detection systems.
Psychological stress increases; isolation, uncertainty, and the omnipresent silence weigh heavily. This report may be my final record.
End of report.
Field Operative SARAH
Researcher ID: 0427-S
[Signature Redacted]
Addendum: Personal Diary Entries
Author: Sarah
Location: Abandoned Town Center
Date: Approximately Three Months Post-Event
Late Morning:
The sun, or what passes for it beneath the ever-present ash-gray clouds, hangs low and muted today. I set out from the shelter, my usual trek to scavenge food taking on the feeling of a ritual. The forest remains silent. It's striking how the quiet has become a companion rather than a warning. No rustling leaves, no birdcalls—just the slow crunch of my boots on cracked pavement and dead leaves.
I made my way toward the supermarket first. Shelves are still stocked, though some cans have begun to swell or corrode. I cleared out what I could carry—dried goods mostly, and a bottle of whiskey I found tucked behind other supplies. Found a pocketknife on the floor near an overturned display; that will come in handy. Tools and useful items seem frozen in time here, snapshots from a sudden departure.
Afternoon:
I wandered down to the river after lunch—my own somewhat private pilgrimage. The water flows sluggishly, a dull gray reflecting the clouded sky. I dipped a bottle to fill water reserves, careful to boil it back at base. The banks are littered with debris—branches, leaves, and oddly shaped metallic fragments that I suspect are remnants from the event. Closer inspection revealed small scorch marks on nearby rocks, but nothing that indicates fire or explosion here.
It’s strange how the river’s slow murmur feels both familiar and alien now. It reminds me of early morning trips with my team, laughter mingling with the rushing water. Those voices are gone. It’s just me.
Evening:
Back in town, I found a backpack behind a parked car that contained a few warm layers of clothing and a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer—small treasures. I’ve started patching up my shoes with bits from an old shoemaker’s shop; I never imagined I’d become so fixated on footwear.
I stopped by the electronics store, marveling at how technology still sits dormant. The mall’s theater marquee flickered faintly when I passed. The thought struck me—maybe I could use some distraction.
Night:
I settled into the darkened mall theater, a place strangely comforting in its emptiness. Using the projector equipment I coaxed to life, I played a rerun of one of my favorite films—Cinema Paradiso. The flickering light cast dancing shadows on empty seats and dust motes swirling in the air. I poured a small glass of whiskey, its burn a welcome contrast to the cold silence pressing at the walls.
For a few hours, I was not a lone survivor in a broken world but just Sarah, sitting among strangers telling stories about love and loss, laughter and hope. The warmth of the film, coupled with the whiskey, eased the ever-present ache inside.
When the credits rolled, I stayed seated a while longer, watching the flickering reel of memories and wondering if one day someone else might find this place, this film, this story—and carve their own mark on the silence.
End of entry.