Log #53.

The telegraph still crackles and fights against breaking under the cold wind. Sometimes between the unintelligible signals we receive word from home. But what is home anyways? It’s a word for a world we left behind in search for a better future.

Hope is dwindling. Another wave of cold is coming but we need to keep on fighting. They say the night is darkest just before dawn, I don’t know how it could get any darker from here on, let’s hope for the best.

 

Log #54

Oh, how wrong I was about having reached the darkest of dark. We lost five people to the storm last night.