This is the journal of Lettis Slingsbury. I am writing my name in the hope that it sticks. That it is a mark of me and my existence. I think this might be the last thing I write, so I hope someone finds it and takes it back to Chris Marker at the museum. He will want it for the official records. And I hope it will explain everything that happened to us and why.

Maybe if my bones are still here with the book whoever finds this could bury me and say a prayer for my soul. Even though we used to go to church I’ve never really thought much about GOD before and praying and my SOUL, but I suppose being with someone who really strongly believes in God (that is Jasmine) has made me think about that sort of thing properly for the first time. It was Jasmine that gave me the idea of asking someone to pray for me when I’m dead. She said that prayer is very powerful and as we were in a church she was praying a lot obviously. Which is something that I have written before.

I don’t know. Maybe there is no God, but if there is one I would like to be with him when this is over. I know I shouldn’t be writing so much about myself and my thoughts and feelings, they are not important really. But there’s no one else, to be honest. No one else to write about, that is. There is only me now. I wanted this to be a great adventure. Something to put in the history books to show how we survived after the disease. Chris says the history of our lives is important. Well, I suppose this is the history of my life. Even though it was just a short one.

So this is what happened. I hope you will read it and remember me.

Hold tight to the book.

Some of it is written quickly so it might not be well written. I have looked at my last entry and it is just a scribble, not properly written at all. It was dark and I was on the top of the steeple and desperate so I didn’t properly write about what had been happening. My last proper entry was when I was writing about the banging on the door and would we open it and was it our friends or was it sickos.