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Vignettes of the Undead

El Zilcho

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4th Avenue


The crowd of monstrous creatures lurched, jerking their bloodied and almost decayed figures up the avenue. A few stopped, transfixed by the flashing traffic light. It flickered red, catching their animalistic attention and refusing to let go. The vast majority of the crowd, however, remained focused on their non-existent goal. A violent, herd mentality. They sensed motion, sound and most of all smelt others. Bit by bit they dragged their torn feet toward the top of the intersection, until they laid eyes on their target.


A sole survivor.


Limping, he struggled with the burden of a nasty fracture on his right shin. He was bloodied and dishevelled, his clothes tattered, his shirt was hanging off his bruised torso, and his trousers were split down the side; showcasing numerous scars on his other, unbroken leg. There was a nasty gash on the arm that was supporting his left leg, and he was missing his middle and ring fingers on his left hand. His face was a sickly shade of white. This man was quickly slipping into a state of shock - but not as quickly as he was slipping into a state of infection.


Had an outsider looked at this weary figure, they could easily mistake him for a monster of the horde. But the undead, ravenous 'zombies' themselves had something about them. A freakishly effective sense of 'smell' as it was dubbed by Survivors. whether or not it had anything to do with nose it was unclear. But what was clear was no matter how much you fit the bill on the outside, the beasts could always sniff out if you were prey. From the inside.


And so, our semi-conscious, half zombified survivor looked down the avenue at the massive horde and shivered. All on his own, he knew his seconds of precious life were numbered. Therefore, with no need at all for dignity; he collapsed and wept uncontrollably - throwing all caution and attempts of self preservation to the wind. The wind, which was now blowing stronger through the deserted streets of this Chenoyblesque city. He beat the ground in desperation, laughing hysterically to himself.


The last 4 days had been terrible to him. His uncle and nephews had transformed and devoured each other in front of his very eyes; his girlfriend had been mistakenly shot and his brother had disappeared. Then, our lowly companion had been brutally assaulted by 10, blood thirsty undead creatures of the night. He had miraculously fought them away, tumbled out of 3rd floor window and ended up in the nasty situation he was in now. Luckily for him, his suffering was over.


Zombie after zombie, the undead 'shoal' latched eyes on him. They ran forward, screeching and thundering inhuman calls of fury. Their fiery eyes never left him; even when he was being torn to shreds the undead at the back of this huge crowd struggled to reach the front, desperate for a glimpse, even a bite of his cadaver. It took about a minute but when it was done, his corpse was being dragged (battered and with his neck clumsily snapped) down the streets, zombies roaring and shredding his ribcage with long fingers and grimey teeth.


The sun rose up slowly, casting a deep orange hue over the blue twilight of the city. The long shadows stretched slowly like a yawn, curling over the chaos and carnage of the city. If any survivors were left here, they would be enjoying a wonderful sunrise.


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Fun & Games


"I don't think we've got much choice! Please, Holly just listen. I'll get us through this, we'll be ok. You've just got to follow my lead." Lucy was pleading now, at her wits end.


"I can't! I can't do it!" Holly's tears were streaming, but even as she remained rooted in denial, she understood it was inevitable.


"Just take my hand, we'll make it across. Just come ON!" Holly timidly followed, clutching her hand in Lucy's as they edged off of the roof and onto the precarious scaffolding, held together by improvised adhesives and rickety nails. One false move and they'd be face first in the massive horde below them. Across them, on the only safe roof, was Farley. He and shouted at them, manically waving his arms and struggling to be heard over the din of blood thirsty zombies.


"Come on, you haven't much time!" Farley was thankful that the distance between him and his quarry obscured his facial details, because he was grinning with genuine malice.


Behind the two girls, the fire escape barricade opened. Farley had made sure of it. It was only a matter of time before the horde funnelled themselves onto the roof, and followed their prey to the scaffold. The girls sensed this and so Lucy pulled on Holly's hand a little tighter, almost dragging her further across the tightrope of wood. Holly nearly tripped on an uneven wooden board, but steadying herself, she hugged the wall in terror. The whole time she kept her eyes completely shut. Lucy grumbled in her mind "How can she be scared of heights now!"


"Ok Holly, we're almost there, Ok? Just a few more feet." Lucy calmly comforted her friend, casting the occasional glance to the other side of the abyss. She dared not to look down - if she did she would be greeted by the sight of a 35 foot drop, followed by the massive horde of writhing dead, all clamouring for blood. She allowed the image of her falling into them, to trickle into her mind - then wished she hadn't. Shaking off the shivers, Lucy tugged on Holly's hand harder. They were almost there!


"Come on girls, just a bit more." Farley sniffled, sadistically enjoying their confused movements. Just as they reached the end of the walkway, the horde erupted from the fire escape like a stampede of bulls. Almost 30 ran straight toward the duo, completely forgetting the 14 foot gap and plummeting into their comrades below. Undead lemmings. A few more cautious, less brain dead infected hovered on the ledge, testing the make shift scaffold with bloodied feet.


"A little further now." Farley said, almost as if goading on a dog. They followed, running over the roof to the metal platform, which was to be raised so they could reach the safe haven of Farley's Hardware and Kitchen Store. The two girls stepped onto it, looking up at him desperately.


"Hurry! Thy're nearly here!" Holly was panicking now, shifting on the balls of her feet; in a maddened daze she stared almost blankly at the 50 or so undead gathering on the opposite roof. Three zombies starting dragging themselves along the scaffolding. A funeral procession coming to carry them away. Farley nodded very, very slowly, scarcily able to contain his excitement.


"Ladies. There's something I've neglected to tell you. Hmm" he said, between fits of childish giggling. Stroking his greying goatee and watching their expressions of fear, he continued. Neither of them spoke, but they listened intently.


"I've been toying with you all along!" He grinned, delivering his obtuse punchline like a pantomime villain, relishing his moment on the non-existant stage. "Ahaha, it's a trapdoor you're standing on!" He tugged on the rusty lever to his right, just before bursting into fully fledged hysterics, collapsing to his knees. The only thing stopping him from falling face first was his urge to watch Holly and Lucy's demise.


In an instant the platform split in half with a sickening, metallic clank. The two hapless co-ed girls dropped into the alleyway below. They were far too choked up with terror to even let out a whimper, let alone a Hollywood scream. When they landed, it wasn't on the paving stones below. It was on the heads of 500 zombies. They lasted about 20 seconds before their screams were drowned in a tidal wave of groaning, screaming and tearing of flesh.


All the while, Farley rolled around on his hardware store roof, his sides splitting from sheer hilarity. He laughed and laughed, until his tear ducts were empty of tears to cry. It had been a funny day.


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Brilliant little bitesize stories you've got here mate. The universal atmosphere to me kind of has a L4d theme in such places, Farley is a right bastard, I only hope you tie up that loose end with us seeing his premise.


Something that made me chuckle was when Farley explained his betrayal. It had that dastardly 'I'm evil, say' - 'Megh, I'm an evil genius, say!'


The insightful prose and length of these stories make the overall idea of your story simplistic yet somehow brilliant.


Keep em coming, writer. cool.gif

"I don't know about angels, but it's fear that gives men wings."


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