User:Rosslessness/Short Story Archive

Here is a copy of all entries submitted on the original short story section. Awards will be noted by each entry.

Note from Rosslessness

Well, finally its judged and stuff. If I can say a few words.

None of the entries were terrible. I'm not going to shout about spelling mistakes or capital letters, because that's not writing.

In fact, they were all amazing. Even those that weren't singled out for greatness, were funny, disturbed or showed a deep understanding of urban dead. A newb could learn a lot about the game from reading these pieces.

If I ever get around to rewriting the city articles, or freerunning, radio or barricading such pieces would really add to the feel that Malton is a real city.

Again, a big thank you. I'll be contacting you all in about two weeks about another writing contest I've got planned. Awards are below. Leave me a message on my talk page if you want them placed on user pages or anything.

--Rosslessness^{Want a Location Image?} 20:33, 28 April 2010 (BST)

User:Rosslessness

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

Fractions

Little by little, we give ground. As the dead advance we make more and more sacrifices. We abandoned the hospital last week, then two days ago the radio fell silent. They even talk about evacuating the harbour. We aren't fighting for survival, we're giving it up one piece at a time.

We give up on people too. The shelters and evacuation points in the suburbs are being helped less and less. Rumours persist that the President is dead. No one wants to lead.

Everyone you meet is giving up. The fresh faced Marines with their crew cuts have changed into ragged bands of men making up their own orders. No one become friends. We've all lost so many, the pain is too great.

As I lay on the street corner, hacking off my fingers before the infection sets in, I feel I am losing myself.

Little by little, hope dies.

User:Yonnua Koponen

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

The Abstract Painting

George was staring at the painting. It was abstract, and he found it severely out of place. He was in a derelict building; a once-proud mansion turned in to a disused slum.

But that was how the world was now. The virus had metastasised across the globe, and no city was left unscathed. Those who were infected became brain-dead hulks, and those who survived had a half-life, fighting for survival at all costs.

This painting represented freedom. The freedom to express yourself in a way unheard of at the time; to dream of new styles; to live as a complete human being. Such an embodiment of freedom was completely out of place here.

George heard a load groan from outside and shambled off, leaving the painting to rot in the old manor house.

User:DanceDanceRevolution

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Haiku
	This user entered an amazing Haiku in Rosslessness' Story Competition, regardless of how many syllables they actually used.

life

wake up, now outside

now part of the great masses

lust for blood undying

grargh

wave of death upon

the humans who still have brains

chew chew chew yum yum

death

man in a longcoat

darkness as i find the ground

i'll start again soon.

User:Misanthropy

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Best In Show!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was one of the shortlisted best entries

Radio, Live Transmission

Even now, the radio keeps broadcasting. Emergency frequencies, hijacked commercial stations – there’s no limit to humanity’s need to communicate. It’s mostly senseless chatter; mindless panic serving no real purpose. Complete amateurs offer advice straight from the movies, or planned offensives to retake parts of the city. These stations soon go quiet, hissing static in a dirge to futility. Worse though, are the times the radio truly speaks of the chaos outside. A few occasions, a broadcast is cut short, end-stopped by shattering glass or snapping wood, and the screaming begins. The beasts themselves never made much noise, aside from an incessant groan, but their reckless approach left little doubt as to their presence. The screaming was inevitably human. For all their grand ideas – offensives, strongholds, patrols – none of those armchair generals ever amounted to more than sounds of tearing and retching. It was at these times I wished for silence.

User:Verance

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Disturbed
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was by far the most disturbing to read. Yes even more than the slashfic.

There is blood in the cinema seats tonight. There are only two people in the world who know exactly how it got there, me and him. I don't know why I did it, I stopped wondering why I do what I do a long time ago. I stopped wondering why the dead refuse to stay dead a long time ago. I look at the body. He was a healthy man, in good shape and rather strong.

Why does it happen? I can cut anyone anywhere, and it doesn't matter. I have stabbed men in the chest, sliced the kidneys of women, even killed a child I saw wandering the streets, crying for fear. They all get back up. I watched that woman twitch as she bled to her death, and walk away. I watched that child, once screaming for its mother, now begin to scream for flesh. I didn't care, I just watched the blood flow and trickle down into the sewer.

It is amusing. I made a mess of this man. I drag him to the top floor and throw him out. He falls and lands with a crack. He will get up in a few hours. Maybe I will be lucky enough to see it, maybe I won't. The cinema is well barricaded. The show going on outside is better than the one inside.

--Ver

User:Knyle

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

Psycho Feed

I cleaned some of the blood from my ax, whistling tunelessly as I stood over my victim; a man who had come to live with my family only just that morning. We could have stayed sheltered together just fine, had he not struck my wife. I shan't make the mistake of trusting anyone again.

I frowned, thoughtfully, until my son appeared in front of me. He tugged against my jacket, asking if I could tuck him in.

I smiled, and walked him back to his bedroom. His mother has been so sick, lately, I have to take care of him. She was getting better, though. She had started moving again!

The widowed fireman sat in his bloodied clothes on the edge of the torn mattress, cradling a limp, unmoving form in his arms, looking lovingly between it, and the undead woman chained to the wall across from him.

User:MaulMachine

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Best In Show!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was one of the shortlisted best entries

	The Champion
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness Story Competition, and amazingly walked away with the prize for Best Story!

Click. Click. Click.

Marc kept squeezing the trigger. Nothing was coming out, but he was trying.

Click. Click. Click.

The zombie stared at him for a moment, then grumbled. It took a few lurching steps forward, mouth gaping.

The hapless gunman backed up against the wall, sheer terror on his face. It couldn’t end like this. Not now. Not here. Not this way. He’d come seeking adventure, and he got…this.

“Wait…” he tried. “Wait,” he started again, clearing his throat. “This doesn’t have to end like this. I know you can hear me.”

The zombie paused.

“We can work this out,” Marc said, a little of his confidence returning. “I can get you into the Mall down the street.”

The zombie shook a bit and groaned, long and loud, lurching forward again.

“No! No, wait, I can – I can get you in, they have so many-”

His guttural scream echoed out of the building, turning a few heads in nearby buildings. Nobody paid attention for long.

This was Malton, after all.

User:Elbert gray

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Graah!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which made excellent use of a language other than English.

Am Rrrgang. Am ah Graagh Haaghz zambah, mah mahb RGang.

Graagh Haaghz hab manah zambahz, nah manah harmanz. Zan, harmanz brang bang-bang. Nah, Graagh Haaghz hab manah harmanz, nah manah zambahz. An mah bananaz m!zz!ng. Az nah ragh!

Am nah habbah. Harmanz harm Rrrgangz branz, an nah g!b ham anah azbr!n. Rrrgang agzg harmanz, “g!b mah zambah azbr!n!” Harmanz gah har-har. Azzgrabbarz.

Graagh Haaghz haz manah barnz. Zah baz barnz mah ham, Rrrgangz Bag Man Barn. Az naz barn! Bagh harmanz hab. Rrrgang brrrrh azzagh zah barn.

Rrrgang zmargh zambah. Zmazh Mrh?-zhan barn barraghagz. Harmanz mrh mah zambah, magh Rrrgang harman. Rrrgang grab rab!a, graagh, MAHR ZAMBAHZ, GRAAGH HAAGHZ! HARB MAH ZAMBAH GRAB HAM!

Zah M!n!anz ran Graagh Haaghz, harb Rrrgang grab haz ham.

Rrrgang habbah agan. Bagh haz bananaz m!zz!ng, zah Rrrgang nah b HABBAH. Zaz habbah. Az arragh, Rrrgang gannah grab anazzarh banana, an zam azbr!n.

User:Chief Seagull

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

My momma used to tell me a lot of things. Don't talk with your mouth full. Don't talk to strangers. And don't try free running in ruined buildings.

As I lay on the ground, ankles broken, head pounding, the shuffle of undead feet drawing ever closer, I can't help feeling I should've listened to her.

They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die.

The only thing on my mind is two little words... oh shite.

User:Drawde

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Best In Show!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was one of the shortlisted best entries

Title: - Effects

“I'm sorry” she whispers, as the bullet tears through the once living body of her love. The moments they shared flash through her mind.

A small child is there, crying softly. A boy of the same age comforts her. “It's okay”, he whispers.

The children are playing on a set of swings, laughing happily together, never imagining anything but each other.

A long awaited meeting, a feeling between the two, unrealised by either. An embrace, full of love that only five years apart could bring.

The first kiss, electrifying the minds of the pair, nothing could ever be as perfect as this.

The marriage, they are as one. They both tell each other that nothing can break this bond, not even the apocalypse.

She departs the safehouse, leaving the body of him behind, and half of herself. Everything has changed.

User:Haliman111

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Mini Master
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and proved that if you used your word count sparingly, you could make multiple entries!

Short Story 1

I found myself checking my rifle...

"You ready, Hal?" Said my commanding officer.

I gave him a nod. I wasn't ready for what was coming. None of us were.

"Alright boys, the Brits have once again requested help from the best damn fighting force in the world"

"Hoo-ah!" We chanted.

It was supposed to be routine riot control.

How could we have known it was the end of the world?

Short Story 2

Every strike team had the same problem.

They shot, and shot, until their magazines ran empty.

Then they got bit. That sure as hell didn't help the situation.

After the bite, they frenzied, became new people. They turned on their friends.

That eliminated about 90% of all the US forces sent in. Another 8% took their own lives.

It's the stories other 2% that's really worth hearing.

Short Story 3

First was Ramirez. Cocky bastard tried to clear the room solo.

"I hear something in here." He said.

"Alright, lets get rea-"

It was no use. A loud crack interrupted me. He had kicked in the door.

That was the first time I had ever seen anyone literally eaten alive.

User:Deathwire

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Headline Special
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which had by far the best title of any entry.

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Great Man Who Was Like Han Solo, Batman, & Neo Combined

Deathwire busted through the door of the sculpture museum. There was no time to waste. A zombie horde of fifteen thousand would arrive at the museum at any second. Deathwire ran from corridor to corridor, gently placing the sculptures onto his massive manly shoulders. The building was falling around him.

Zombies were destroying the structure from the outside, bent on destroying the last piece of culture Dulston had. Deathwire was sure that he could escape with every sculpture. The door that he had foolishly busted down, however, disagreed. Zombies poured into the museum. Deathwire fought heroically but, alas, could not win. With his dying breathe, he cursed them to a fiery doom. In this final moment, the sculptures came to life and, being superior beings, destroyed the zombies.

“Your sacrifice was not in vain” the sculptures assured the dying hero. “We will save Dulston from its lack of culture.”

User:Giles Sednik

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

The Tartan Slippers

In the chill sun she collapsed, weary amid the unkempt remains of humanity. "You okay Suze?" She couldn't say. Chancelwood had changed her. The wails were there, the days without sleep. Tendons burning, she had felt her grip slipping along the wooden hilt of an axe. But she had grown dull to these sensations. It was the night of Curton Mansion. The clack of hammers echoed through the old building as the plush furniture was upended and broken into pieces. In the library she'd found a pair of tartan slippers. They smelled like a fireplace. They were soft. "Suze? You comin?" A spear thistle was growing in the middle of Hammerton Road, and as the earth tilted beneath her, the light of winter shifted imperceptibly.

User:Mallrat

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Sadface
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which made the judge very sad.

One

It has been five years since the outbreak, and now I am alone.

Once I had friends, family, plans for a future: now I have none of these things. I cannot even afford the luxury of dreams. Only nightmares remain.

Nightmares of the never-ending hunt, night and day, merging into a breathless chase, an endless game of fox and hounds. The pack of hunters grows ever-larger: they lust for my blood, ache to see it spilt in the street, long to gorge their shining eyes on my spattered brains.

My heart broken, my soul lost, I stagger from safehouse to safehouse, but find neither safety nor a home. The one consolation is that I have nothing left to lose - but I am beyond consolation now.

I am the last zombie on Earth, and they are coming.

User:The Staring Man

Kountermeasure Karl!

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Longest Story
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which had way too many words, but was a damn fine story anyway.

My name is James NecroTech, by my name I have devoted myself integrally to the company, and rightly as I have, I had a mission of which I can say confidently: I utterly failed.

The containment precautions against the undead threat had flaws in all NT buildings at the boundries of Malton city, being the city centre the richest source for data collection of combat records, it received top priority, which is the same to say the only priority; my job as you can guess, is data collection for biological warfare. I was assigned an NT countermeasure force solider for the job, who was supposed to pick me up for our combat study journey, he never arrived.

Not long after our rations ran out, my supervisors had deserted me and left me for dead, or dinner to be more precise. Most of them committed suicide with the aid of syringes filled with cocktails of the finest sedatives the company has to offer, some just jumped out the window, I disposed of my sedated colleages by dumping their bodies outside the complex.

I'm starting to feel dizzy, probably because I haven't eaten in two days. I've been thinking of using one of those cocktails, but I find my colleagues to be most amusing being undead down there, they are already waiting for me, they can smell me, very hungry, outside the building, a few broken bones I can guess, I dumped them all from the third floor, they've been angry and graoning all night in pain or hunger, it's impossible to tell.

Barbara, my hardbody lab assistant is particularly hysterical, as a flesh eating muse, her blonde, dirty, bloodstained hair is all over her face, her broken arms cannot reach her head to put them away, her desperate groaning reminds me of her orgasms.

I hear a bang coming from the darkness of the streets, it hits my lab assistant in the back, she falls flat on the sidewalk, her thud awakens my idling colleages that were more or so destroying the barricades they themselves built at Dury's building entrance, my current location.

The bangs continue repeatedly and bullets begin to tear their fleshes, some fall, some stay put taking the hits, and some of them charge to the source of the gunshots, I can't distinguish the whole scene of the massacre but the flashes, the blood splashes and squirts go on for a short while, it's fascinating to be a witness of such carnage from afar and not feel a thing, it's almost entertaining to know that my boss is being torn apart right down below.

There's a sudden but brief moment of silence, my lab assitant tries to get up but fails to do so, as her usless arms can't support her flabby beautiful body. The man hurries into the building but not before sticking his shotgun right into my assistant's mouth, blowing her brains all over the sidewalk, her blonde hair swings peacefully in the air down to the concrete.

The man finally finds his way through the barricades. I step away from the window and stay put until he can reach me.

The elevator door opens and reveals a gas mask wielding man in uniform wearing dog-tags, one of them with his name "Karl" and a friendly NT logo on his left breast-plate, he approaches slowly, breathing heavily, scanning the environment through his lifeless mask lenses.

As soon as I get up from my peaceful spot, dizzy and sleepy, my manners automatically respond to his figure of authority and I try to give him a proper handshake with my weak left hand.

"Hello I'm Jame..."

I enter the thrid floor and I find this wicked lab-coated zombie, who was supposed to be my NT lab-rat buddy, staring at me with a twitching grin, I can't help myself but aim my pistol and scream:

"OH SHIT TOO LATE!"

BANG, BANG, BANG.

"GET SOME! YOU LEAD-EATING SON OF A BITCH! HA-HA!"

BANG, BANG, BANG.

"GET SOME!"

"KOUNTERMEASURE KARL REPORTING IN: DURY'S CLEAR!"

BANG.

User:Aichon

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

Last March of the Bravos

Men, this is the end.

It has been an honor and a privilege to serve as your CO these last six years. We've bled together. We've died together. And some even came back as zeds afterwards, though we'd of wished they'd stayed dead. This isn't the time for long speeches, but if I had the time, you can bet I'd write novels about the courage you've displayed and of the bravery you'll show today.

You know what's coming. Over that hill — that one on the horizon — is the rescue we've been waiting for. I promise you it's there. On my word as your CO, it's there. On my word as your friend, it is there. On my word as your brother. It. Is. There. And we will reach it, come hell or...

Well, come hell.

So, men, grab your gear. We're giving the zeds their own hell, one last time.

User:Spinlight

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

Change

I remember when they built this mall. Beautiful and clean, with a huge sparkling fountain in the foyer to throw coins into and make wishes. We use the fountain for staging corpses; the drain keeps the blood from pooling until someone dumps them outside. The drain is slow, though, and the stench is awful.

Strap and I set up shop in an old Cinnabon near the fountain. Strap was a butcher, before, and for a reasonable trade he will cut anything for you, quick-like. For a substantial trade, it can be someone else, slow as you please. I clean up after Strap. “Stitching and ditching”, I call it, since I am usually sewing someone up or dumping their corpse. I spend a lot of time at the fountain.

Standing there now, watching my reflection empty this dripping sack, I can’t help laughing as I wonder what I should wish for.

User:Sannok

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Best In Show!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was one of the shortlisted best entries

Silver

the silver lining at the edge of the cloud is a myth. when the sun breaks through the sky, the only thing that happens is that the wasteland of this city gets revealed. every edge of broken concrete gets lit up, every twisted steel support beam glows, every broken window glitters. the horde screams in the distance, twisted vocal cords blasting their joy at finding fresh meat. can zombies feel joy? regardless, they scream. my spine tingles; no matter how many times i hear that noise, i can't help but shiver, like the silver edge of a knife is peeling my skin from my bones.

User:BrotherMcBeaner

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Best In Show!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was one of the shortlisted best entries

Players and Villains

With my eyes closed I can feel him. I can feel his ragged breath, I can feel his quickening pulse. I open my eyes and see him in the street, a flicker of humanity among the rubble.

I feel for this one, given time he may change. My hand hesitates as I draw my pistol, but I remember, he has chosen this path, I am merely a player.

I step from the doorway with nary a word and stand before him. I savor the jolt of shock as he sees me and the cold, lingering, mask of fear etched upon his face.

I see my dead white face mirrored in his eyes and smile a smile none shall see.

“Ignorance, is Death”

....

I leave his smoking corpse for the ghouls, and make my way to the rooftop. This world needs villains, and I am happy to play my part.

User:Hashk

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Best Opening
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which had the best opening line of any entry.

The Huntress

The huntress is cold, yet fiery; she spends her life in hiding yet she's proud as fuck. She knows her strength, and how much of it the job requires; she knows it's not enough so she rests and thinks of nothing.

When it's show time, she'll earn the right to live another day, or her brains will grace the walls of her poor choice and there'll be no one to blame for it but herself. Yet the huntress wouldn't have it any other way.

You know why? The world has ended. What pride remains? What drive?

Zombies, they're predictable: by the time they arrive you can be slouching in a pub three 'burbs away. Survivors and their safehouses, their safety in numbers—better life expectancy, no doubt, but what kind of life is that, you have to ask yourself.

When the huntress hits the bank, her mind is clear.

User:Infrastructure

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

	Hot Stuff
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, which was in no way a true reflection of the Judge's personal bedroom habits .

Love has no bounderies

Rosslessness looked up, staring into the eyes someone he had loved. For two years they had been together, and it had felt like it would never end. These years had been the happiest time of his life. Until today.

"Honey.. I'm seeing someone else," Rosslessness whispered. "It's over." His love stared back, shocked. He had thought that their love was eternal.

"It's a guy I once knew.. I didn't mean to fall for him, but.. I just can't change the way things are. I love him, and I love you.. But only as a friend. What we had was beautiful, so beautiful.." Rosslessness drifted away for a moment, dimly looking away. He hadn't thought he would feel like this. "You.. don't have anything to say?" Somewhere deep inside him, he almost hoped he would try to win him back.

And then, the reply came - The last words between two lovers.

"Gangbang?"

Rosslessness sighed, for he knew it was truly over. "No, my rotten love.. No more gangbang."

User:Mr Wendal

	Winner!
	This user entered an amazing story in Rosslessness' Story Competition, and is probably off improving the wiki as we speak!

I search for a building that isnt all boarded up, so I can get off the streets. Not this one. Buncha assholes, I can see em inside, sitting around checking the windows and smoking cigarettes.

"HEY ASSHOLE, HOW ABOUT A CIGARETTE?" I yell.

"FUCK OFF!" He says.

"YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH?" I shout.

"NAH, I KISS YOURS" he says.

"MY MOTHERS DEAD YOU SICK FUCK" I yell.

"I KNOW. HERE SHE COMES NOW" he says, pointing behind me.