Hello. My names are Kumblant Zozeech. I am pygmy were-zompire in England in west part in Yorkshire. Here in journal I begin tell sad story of me. It very sad. It make you cry.
I come to England in west part in Yorkshire for work. I am good workman, strong like green Hulk. I am Road Clean Man, all day I clean road with broom, I sweep your dirt, your dust, your ends of cigarettes. I spike with spike-stick your packets from crisps, chocolate, lollipop, cigarette. It is good job for good workman like me.
I was previous in high profession of Vampire Killer in own country of birth, my country I miss in heart like I miss woman I love and family I love. In my country I had father, mother, sisters, brother, old Grandmother Zozeech who is wise magic witch in pygmy village. I was happy boy, play in forest from sun till set with brother and boys in pygmy village. We run, we fight, we make huts in trees. We fish for fishes, we trap rabbit and kill with stones. We ride hairy forest wild pig. We race – always I win even but I am runt boy of pygmy village.
My country is great, my village is shit. Two cows for milk, two goats for milk, three pigs for pig. Cabbage, beetroot, turnip, potato in field. My village animals lived precious by all, we keep animal we have food. But forest hides creatures dark and wicked, many creatures we know, many creatures we not see yet but we know they hide up tree, in bush, under pile of leaves. We sleep, they run out, steal girls in village, steal babies in village, steal food. This is good reason for guard our village with eyes like hawk.
When I was boy I was night guard, nine to midnight, in high look-hut in village square. Raiders come, I ring bell – village run from huts, fight raiders with fork, shovel, knife, stick, try stop raiders steal what they come for. We win, they win. On very bad night when I am seven, a thing steal my baby sister, Beefibisto. Mama cries all day, all night. Papa shout ‘Shoosh, shoosh,’ at her always, he say many village men have loss inside huts but many village men have peace and quiet, no wails from woman.
Now, nobody there to wail. My pygmy village, all dead. My family, all dead. I tell you how they are all dead when I next time write. Goodbye.