Nobody knows who they are, or why they do it. But none of that matters. The only thing that matters is that you survive their ‘test’. One day, you might be flossing your teeth, about ready to go to bed. The next morning, you’re in the middle of nowhere. Again. That’s what happened to me, anyway. I don’t know that anyone else has ever been brought here. But anyway, here goes my own experience, and you should hope it never happens to you. 

I already said you wake up in the middle of nowhere, so that’s where I’ll start. The sand under my back was dry and grainy, and the mid-morning sun beat down like a hammer. No. Not again. This was the second time I had been taken away. And why me? Why not someone else? I don’t know. But remembering all the pain I had suffered last time, these questions were irrelevant, but I’ll explain that later. I knew I had to find shelter soon. Number one on my priority list was to gather wood. Trees were plentiful, so this was done in a matter of minutes. With the wood I collected, I created a makeshift shovel, along with a pick axe. Now I could create a shelter, if I could not find one. Well, after searching for about three hours, I was unsuccessful in finding somewhere to hunker down for the night, and I was rapidly running out of time. But undeterred, I began to alternatively craft a sort of box with the sticks I had gathered. After I had finished, I surveyed it, and knew it had to be much stronger if I were to survive the night. What had I done to survive last time? The memory was lost somewhere, like trying to remember a dream long after you’ve woken up. This was a waste of time. I set off to find stone, something to reinforce my small shelter. There was a large pile a little bit away from here, and I grabbed as much as I could carry. By the time my small… hut was completed, it was getting dark. The thing looked to be strong enough. I had added wooden supports to the inside, and blocked off the entrance. It was about six feet wide, eight feet long, and four feet high. There clearly wasn’t too much space to move around, and I couldn’t stand up in it. As I was patting down the leaves I was going to use as bedding, I heard it. A low, thundering, unsettling growl. You’ll think I’m crazy, and I don’t blame you one bit, but it was a zombie. I know it was. It was not twenty yards away from where I was, and I could see it clear as day in the moonlight. The creature’s flesh was falling off, it’s eyes were dead, or undead. With it’s sickly green skin, and strong, rotting fish smell, I wanted to throw up. Praying with all my heart it would not come any closer, the zombie appeared to turn away. And then, one appeared out of the trees even closer. It couldn’t have been even twenty feet away. I waited for about six minutes. This time monster did not leave. If anything, it came closer like it was checking out my small shelter. Then suddenly, it started to quickly hobble over to my shelter, the noise it made when it walked was revolting, like someone squishing jello. As it grew closer and closer, my heart pounded harder and harder, and it felt like it would jump out of my chest. Finally, it reached my hut, and tried to break in. I backed up as far as I could away from it. Up close, I could see the zombie only had four fingers on one hand and five on the other. The thing’s face was so grotesque, I won’t even try to begin to describe it. The zombie slowly pulled its hand back, like it was going to punch my shelter. Instead, it pushed my shelter, and it instantly fell over, as one of the supports had not been strong enough. Now I was face to face with the undead monster, its fishy breath smothering my own face. I ran.