User:Rose Deadstop/Stories
A rag-tag journal was found at the inner courtyard of another raided cathedral. A few decomposing bodies and shredded blood marks of ancient color on the walls prove long-gone zombie activity. The owner of said journal is presumed dead or M.I.A. The last entry of the diary has been recorded into files for future reference.
And nothing there, nothing here. What to say? Help?
No one's here, no one's there. What can we do, but survive like the insects we are, crawling on cursed feet- fleeing from the strong. The stronger.
The strongest.
Why?
Overcome, isn't it? Overcome, is what the city is, supposedly. Malton's long gone: run over by this infection of things. Zombies, right? We're all dead, doomed, die for what? Nothing. Nothing, nothing- we're all going to die, dead, doomed, die, dead doomed, die. . .
It's only true.
Outside, there are cries. Outside, there are screeches flawless in their personifications of utter terror, that utter realization of gruesome death that isn't death at all. Zombies, they say, sniping humans down with bare claws, bare teeth in maws of red, and there, I've said! -See, I want to live. Suppose I want to keep on going after escaping barricaded Malton City. Maybe move on to a peace camp and tend to a family. Any family. See, mine's gone, long-gone, gone, gone, gone.
The troops never came- I have yet to see a trustworthy soldier that isn't dead yet. Suppose freedom's beyond that yonder barrier, and I can't get past. I suppose I won't raise a family by the most naked rots, I suppose I won't survive. I suppose I'll never "make it", so the other bedraggled survivors say, and actually see the sun with my liberty intact. Supposedly, that's a suppose, but then again I think I've lost my mind in this sea of madness- Zombies! Who would've thought?
If I'm alive, look for me. Please! I'll be wandering around the fire departments, probably. Supposedly.
Screeching, again. Outside, I mean. I'll never be safe, suppose I'll never out- but suppose I make something of the time I've still got, suppose I d-
The entry ends there, a meager splash of blood decorating the unfinished portion.
