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post #1 of 6 (permalink) Old 01-09-12, 09:08 PM Thread Starter
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Default Moment by moment

Zombie short story.




Moment by moment.


I looked into the mirror and though the room was mostly dark, the light from the morning sun behind me reflected gently to bathe my face in soft white light. My face was bloody from the tear in my scalp, but otherwise undamaged.

I hoped that I was not infected, but the only way to be sure was to let time take its course. If at the end of the day my mind was still my own I knew there was no need for me to be put down. Put down; what a strange way to say the word: executed.

Even as I splashed cold water upon my face and washed away the blood the worry set in; even before that really, as the memories came back.

In the darkness of the hab it was exceedingly hard to see. The shadows wove around themselves thickening and swirling to bring visibility down to non-existent.

I dared not bring my light to bear; they would see it and come for me. As it turns out, they came for me anyway. I smelled them before I heard them and the terror I felt exploded within my body and I found that I could not move. My limbs were as stone, frozen and stiff.

My mind was screaming warnings to me, but I was stuck alone in the darkness of the hall waiting for the inevitable. Where were they? My eyes searched the darkness but I could not see them. The smell was sick and sweet like rot from spoiled meat.

After what felt like hours I heard them stepping through the door that led into the living room. In the darkness all I could see were darker shapes shambling forth.

I could not see their extended hands even though I knew they were stretched out in front of them. I could not see their gangrened flesh sloughing off of their putrid bodies as they rubbed against the walls, but I could hear the skin ripping away like gel being rubbed against a wooden wall with hands of bone.

Slowly, too slowly life began to ebb back into my muscles and the warnings screaming in my head overcame my fear even as the first one slid its bloody fingers across my face and attempted to bear down on me with its dead rotting mouth.

It tried to sink its teeth into my cheek and tear away the flesh, but I pushed it backwards and with a shout lunged forward with my hatchet and split its head in two.

Blood and feted brain-matter along with bone and spoiled skin crashed against my face like waves against a cliff face. Before it could completely collapse to the floor I swung my weapon round and struck the woman in the neck with the sharp blade.

She did not cry out nor did she even expel a breath or react to nonexistent pain, but instead lunged forward and stabbed me in the top of my head with skinless fingers sharpened by hours of clawing.

The fingers slid beneath my scalp and scored the bone underneath. Pain like I had never felt before brought me to my knees and I nearly blacked out from the shock of it. Blood, warm and fresh painted my face getting into my eyes and mouth.

The dead woman’s hands clutched my hair and I felt it being pulled. I could hear smacking and teeth clicking against each other as they ripped through my blood filled hair. Tormented by inaction and pain I punched her torso breaking bone, but again she did not feel it or react to the damage.

With blood and darkness filling my eyes I was nearly blind. A chunk of my scalp along with a clump of my hair was pulled from my head and thrust into her mouth by her skinless hands. As she stood up straight to ingest my hairy flesh I rammed into her with my shoulder and forced her to the floor.

With one hand I pushed her face against the carpet and with the other hand I grabbed the hatchet that was still sticking out of her neck. Pulling it free I brought it over my head and slammed it into hers. Her body quit moving underneath mine but I kept striking her until her skull was nothing more than bloody bony mush.

Tears mixed with blood as I wept from the terror. I laid upon the corpse for what felt like days weeping from the strain and fear I felt. As the morning light ebbed through the broken window of the living room it found me making my way into the bedroom and the restroom within.

‘Emperor help me.’ I prayed. The wound was badly infected and already beginning to turn greenish gray. I knew that no matter how much I cried out to the Emperor for help he could not save me. The damage was done. Now the only thing I could do was hope for the end to come.

With shaky hands I wrote a letter to any who may find it. In truth I knew there would not be any readers, but I wrote it anyway. It was a simple prayer that my mother taught me so long ago. “Now I lay me down to sleep, Emperor; I pray my soul to keep. If I die before I wake, Emperor of mankind... I pray my soul you take.”

It was simple for sure but somehow settling to my mind and as I set the gun against my skull I hoped that I would be remembered for the person I once had been.

I stood there holding the gun to the side of my head for what felt like months, the whole time staring into my own eyes in the mirror trying to stir up the courage to pull the trigger.

I could not do it. Emperor’s blood, I could not do it. I could not pull the trigger even though I knew I would become one of those things before long. The pain within my guts was already nearly too much for me to handle, and my head was awash with fever.

I tried to remember what my name was; is, but the pain and fever sapped my mind. I could not remember my name let alone what I was doing a minute ago.

The gun in my hand felt heavy and my arm lowered until it was straight down. The gun fell from my hand hammering to the floor, but I was no-longer aware of its purpose.

***

As the sun began to set the shadows began to lengthen until they were nearly blending with the oncoming night. The house was silent and nearly empty as the darkness began to have its way. In the bathroom the dead man stared at the image in the mirror, waiting for it to move.

He no longer understood the idea of reflections and light, but watched for the figure to move so he could attack. Hunger twisted the corpse’s guts even as his skin continued to darken from the infection. As time passed the shadows swirled around him and nearly covered the bathroom wall, almost hiding the reflection from view.

The sun set and the darkness became complete. The reflection no-longer held his interest and when the morning light next filled the room he could not be found.

A good reputation take a long time to build, but only a moment to destroy. Wow, that's deep! Check out the H.O.E.S. short story competition.
Other stories from Adrian.
Look up Adrian in the "Compendium" to find them. Thanks

Last edited by Adrian; 01-17-12 at 12:50 PM. Reason: Because it sucked.
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post #2 of 6 (permalink) Old 01-10-12, 12:15 AM
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the zombie king is back yay
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post #3 of 6 (permalink) Old 01-10-12, 09:29 AM
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Nice.

Graphic.


Nonsense is our Salvation

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post #4 of 6 (permalink) Old 01-17-12, 12:53 PM Thread Starter
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With the help of Serpion 5 I was able to see some mistakes I had made in this story. I was not at my best when I wrote it, so I re-wrote it. It is still the same story, but for some line changes and structure issues.

A good reputation take a long time to build, but only a moment to destroy. Wow, that's deep! Check out the H.O.E.S. short story competition.
Other stories from Adrian.
Look up Adrian in the "Compendium" to find them. Thanks
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post #5 of 6 (permalink) Old 01-17-12, 02:02 PM
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Good imaging of the fear, and the change of perspective in the afterword is very evocative.

The only minor thing that did not quite sit for me was the conflicted metaphor in this phrase:

Quote:
Originally Posted by Adrian View Post
...the terror I felt exploded within my body and I found that I could not move...
Explosions are about fast movement so the paralysis ending the sentence derailed my flow slightly. It might work better as either a slower verb such as "oozed" or a setting verb such as "congealed". If you were wanted to try something really advanced you could even hint at infection by using a medical verb such as "clotted".
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post #6 of 6 (permalink) Old 01-17-12, 08:30 PM Thread Starter
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Default It happened once to me.

Quote:
Originally Posted by Dave T Hobbit View Post
Good imaging of the fear, and the change of perspective in the afterword is very evocative.

The only minor thing that did not quite sit for me was the conflicted metaphor in this phrase:



Explosions are about fast movement so the paralysis ending the sentence derailed my flow slightly. It might work better as either a slower verb such as "oozed" or a setting verb such as "congealed". If you were wanted to try something really advanced you could even hint at infection by using a medical verb such as "clotted".

I remember when I was a child and was put into a situation where the emotion of fear hit me so hard that it felt like I would burst or explode from the pressure of it.

The terror I felt did not ooze or congeal, it hit me to the very core of my being. I am 39 years old now and at times the memories are still very evocative. This is the kind of emotion I was hoping to convey to the reader.

I am glad you enjoyed the story. I am even more glad you took the time to comment. It means a lot to me.

A good reputation take a long time to build, but only a moment to destroy. Wow, that's deep! Check out the H.O.E.S. short story competition.
Other stories from Adrian.
Look up Adrian in the "Compendium" to find them. Thanks
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