RESULTS THREAD

Zombie Writing Contest

To Celebrate Pearl's 3rd Meneversary
(24th May)

INSTRUCTIONS

Write a 1,000 to 10,000 word story (or extract) about the Zombie Apocalypse.
Despite the name, the world does not have to end. You can defeat the zombies if you like.
You have a totally free rein.
DEADLINE: 14th July (Bastille Day, seems a good a day as any)
ENTIRES: should be posted in the thread, plain text.

ABOUT YOUR HOST

I have just completed the first year of my literature degree.
I have also seen and read a fair amount of all things Zombie.
Therefore, I hope you trust me to judge your writing!

PRIZES

Best Gore: Fox Hat
Best Horror: Bee Headphones
Best Humour: Yumeh Slippers
Best Prose: Bunny Hat

Overall Winner: Astral Halo

IN MAY 2020, AN OUTBREAK OF FLESH EATING BACTERIA MADE ITS WAY INTO THE HUMAN POPULATION, GIVING THEM A THIRST FOR BLOOD AND HUMAN FLESH. THEY CAME TO BE CALLED ZOMBIES. THE FOLLOWING IS THE TRUE STORY OF ONE OF THE LAST SURVIVORS OF THE OUTBREAK OF 2020:

"I was ten when they came, but according to the elders, the world was once a beautiful place. From what I’ve seen the world is now in ruins and they roam the earth as if they own it. The elders don’t know that we have found a way to get above ground. We’ve been digging for months, and finally made out way inside the ruins of a library and are now standing in the…”
“ANNE, GET OFF THAT DAMN RECORDER AND COME ON!” Hank yelled at me as he grabbed my pocket recorder out of my hand and turned it off. “Come on, I want to document this, we have just made history!” I yelled jumping up and trying to get it from him. He chuckled and placed his hands on the shoulders of my light green sweater. “You can have it back, once we find a safe place to sleep for the night, because you know we can’t stay here.” He said looking me in my pale blue eyes with his light green ones. I blushed and looked down at my boots as he chuckled and hugged me. “We’re going to make it… just the two of us.” He whispered patting my back.
Hank and I grew up underground together. He’s two years older than me, so he’s become a sort of leader for the youths… only I was brave enough to come with him above ground… I’d go anywhere with Hank. I’ve been in love with him since I was five. By the way, I’m Anne Percy, official gardener for Brinkley, our city underground. I have shoulder length wavy brown hair, ice blue eyes, I’m about 5’3’ and weigh maybe 120… not very many people underground weigh more than 200 pounds… I dress in basically boots, baggy pants that have multiple pockets for my tools, and tank tops. Hank is 6’1, weighs right near 200, but muscular and wears the same as me…. Only he’s a mechanic… he can build anything with the right tools and equipment.
“Isn’t is amazing that were finally outside…” I whispered as we came to the doors of the library. Thankfully they couldn’t handle the sunlight. “What did they name them? The elders?” I asked as walked out into the sunlight. “Zombies” Hank said holding a gun in his hand as he checked corners for them. “I see… so is that why we burn our dead, So that we won’t become one of them?” I asked as we heard a crashing sound from behind an empty grocery store. “Sush.” Hank whispered putting his finger to his lips. I nodded and we ran over to the sound.
“SHIT!” A voice yelled as we rounded the corner. A young girl about my age with long blond hair stood on top of a pile of boxes that had just fallen over. “State your name.” Hank said aiming the gun at her. She wore a pair of tight black jeans and a tank top. On her right arm she had a dirty bandage that looked to be weeks old. “Carletta Jones… Call me Jones..” She said limping over and holding out her hand. Hank looked her over then holstered his gun and shook her head. “I’m Hank, this is Anne… We came from below.” He said grinning. “Nice to meet cha. I’ve been living here alone for sometime.” Jones said dropping her hand as she shook his.
I crossed my arms and glared at the new girl. Instantly not trusting her, she had an odd feeling about her. “Anne, don’t be rude Shake hands with Jones before she takes us to her house.” Hank said turning to glare at me. I sighed and held out my hand as I kept my other in my pocket. “Nice to meet you.” I mumbled looking away. She smiled and shook my hand nodding in agreement then turned to Hank. “So.. off to my place?” She asked winking. “Sounds good.” He said smiling widely. I groaned as she turned and started walking and Hank motioned for me to follow.
After about an hour of walking we finally reached a small mansion, with steal reinforced windows and gate. She put in a security code and the gate opened and the three of us entered. As we walked in I swore I heard something hit the gate behind us, but I couldn’t see anything so I said nothing and followed her into the almost empty house. “First floor has a room stalked with weapons, the doors lock from the inside, and there are Camera’s set about to check out the house.” She said as she gave us a quick tour. “Let me show you to your rooms.” She said as she made her way back down to the first floor. “It’s safest on the first floor… that way just in case anything happens were right down here and we can make a quick run for it.” She explained as she opened the door to one room and walked in.
“You can stay in this one.” She said staring at me. “S..sure..” I muttered until I saw the bathroom and then took off for it instantly closing and locking the door as I turned on the shower and hopped in. Living in Brinkley you don’t get to shower often, water is scarce. “There are clothes in the dresser!” Jones called knocking on the door. “Oh, okay thank you!” I called back relaxing under the warm steamy water.
After a nice long relaxing shower, I grabbed one of the towels and my clothes along with my gun and headed out to the room to get dressed. Walking over to the dresser I pulled out a nice dress and some undergarments that looked unworn. Smiling I pulled them on, then holstered my gun to my thigh and ran a hand through my hair as I set out to find Jones, or Hank.
I was met with a long smear of blood in the hallway, which made me stop in my tracks as I listened for something. Sure enough a soft cracking sound was coming from down the dark hallway. Grabbing my flashlight and gun, I held it out in front of me, gently sweeping the area as I slowly headed down the hallway.
I reached the end of the hallway, and the crunching got louder, and the smear of blood grew thicker as I entered the kitchen. I almost let out a scream as I found a zombie covered in blood, munching on what was left of Jones. I raised my gun and began shooting widely at the zombies head, hoping to hit it. After what felt like forever, it jumped up letting out a snarl at me as it launched itself at me. I screamed and took off down the hallway.
The moaning and groaning of more zombies growing louder as I reached another room. I peeked inside and covered my mouth as my stomach threatened to jump out. Hank lay on his bed, completely devoured by a horde of zombies who where still munching on what was left.
They noticed me and turned and headed for me. I dropped my gun and took off running, heading for the weapon room. Finally I found it after falling down a few times and breaking a few things. I ran inside and pushed against the door, tears running down my cheeks are the zombies tried to push it open again. Finally I got it closed and locked. I collapsed against the wall and curled up into a ball sobbing.

A FEW YEARS AFTER THE OUTBREAK, A CLEANING CREW HAVING BEEN HIRED TO GATHER THE PARTS OF THE DEAD IN THE CITY TO BURN AND STERILIZE THE CITY. THEY ENTERED THE MANSION TO CHECK FOR ANY RATIONS BEFORE BURNING IT. UPON FINDING THE HIDDEN SECURITY ROOM, THEY OPENED IT TO FIND THE DEAD ROTTED CORPSE OF MRS. PERCY. SHE HAD WRITTEN THE PREVIOUS STORY DOWN IN HOPES THAT SOMEDAY SOMEONE WOULD FIND HER AND SHE COULD HAVE HER STORY TOLD. IT SEEMS, THAT SHORTLY AFTER LOCKING HERSELF IN THE SECURITY ROOM, SHE SHOT HERSELF IN THE HEAD WITH ONE OF THE SHOTGUNS IN THE ROOM.

Written By: XxEmber_MIstxX AND xKindred_Silencex
Words: 1,413.

I can't see myself getting more than 3-5 entries... I might have to re-evaluate the prizes.

After a century of silence, underneath the Earth’s crust of hidden secrets, a resilient group of creatures known to man as “The Undead” or “Zombies” begin to be awakened by the mistakes of the Humans. The undead are enraged by the ignorance of the humans ways of life, they have given into the 7 sins easily as a child under peer pressure. With their motives clear to all, the undead sprang forth to attack the humans. The virus inflicted by their bites would start to show its colors after 5 minutes, within the 5 minutes you experience psychologically and physical changes. Inside yourself you feel something consuming your heart until it beats no more, your thoughts only turn into bloodlust, and the memories you have are only turned against you. For this virus feels rather worse than the seven sins that humans commit daily without remorse.

At dawn on a cold day, the world grew quiet and the echoes would be nothing but that of pain. I find myself scared for what is to come of us, as I search for other survivors and wait for my own demise. “Ever!” I heard a shout coming from the distance, finally a voice I can recognize from all the screams. It was Nina, one of my ex-girlfriends, as I thought to myself… why her out of all people to be alive! “It’s good to see you alive Ever, I would’ve killed you myself if you were one of them,” she exclaimed with a sad smirk. “Something seems to be bothering you besides this whole situation, did anything happen?” I asked. “My family was taken in by the beast’s right before my eyes!” A tear fell from the corner of her eye, but there was a reflection of something in it, I could see… a monster inside. From that moment she was turning into one of them. I was afraid to kill her, for her loss by my own hands would be a crime worse than this curse spelled upon her. I waited patiently for the right moment to bring her life to an end, I finally saw the moment when her voice started to reach gnarls. I picked up my shotgun passed down from generations of my family and whispered to her ear while pointing the shotgun to her head, “I love you.” When the trigger was pulled her head would explode into nothing but a bloody mass, like an unrecognizable fruit fallen from a tree. When that gun shot echoed into the city, I saw a handful of undead rushing towards me with lust in their eyes and teeth riddled with the carcass of innocent people. I ran in the opposite direction looking for a place to climb up onto. I climbed a parked car and used it as a stair step to get on top of a truck. From that position I waited until they were close enough to be affected by my shotgun, where it really hurts! As they got nearer to the car I shot several bullets, each one puncturing vital spots, and blood dripping from the shotgun sized craters. I thought to myself this would never end and I should just give myself up to the undead, but I still had hope for when the undead would starve to death.

3 weeks have passed from that day; the zombies were dying one by one from starvation. Since then I have found food along the way, weaponry, and even a place to hide. I wouldn’t consider myself cowardly, just lucky to be alive. Suddenly I hear knocks on the door and a screaming voice asking to let her in. I picked up my trusty shotgun and opened the door. She said her name was Vale and she was running for the zombies. “How did you know I was in here?” I asked. “Well I kind of have been stalking you for quite a while now since you seem to know a lot of these things…” The expression of my face was something you wouldn’t like to see, it was comparable to the pedo bear smiley people would post on forums like a rick roll. We ate left over chips through the days to come for mass starvation. We had made a promise if that we lived through this all then we would repopulate humanity and make sure that our mistakes don’t rewrite itself. Tomorrow we would have to set out to find more food, food was harder to find as the days passed and we had heard of rumors of it being used to buy weaponry and several needs.
In the morning we packed our bags with only the top essentials with survival in mind and we did it for we would we would not return and we would need to find a new home. We ran as silently and quickly as we can to the nearby supermarket, through the streets I could see the veins of history. Every dead person had a story that I was curious to understand about, blood on walls, bullets left on the floor, and objects that can only represent the memories of the dearly departed. Some of the victims maybe had things they wanted to do before they went away or simply wanted to live life to the fullest and to see the joys of life and grow up to have grandchildren. In this style of thinking, I would think sins would be used as an excuse for the reason the undead were among us.

We made it to the supermarket; fortunately there was still fresh food upon each shelf and freezer. Most of the produce was spoiled rotten or expired. We ran out of the supermarket with a shopping cart filled with food. We didn’t realize it but when we were outside; all the undead were dead from starvation. With a sigh of relief we never broke our promise.

After a year we had children and worked on a farm to help them survive, we would repopulate the world as the new Adam and Eve, except we would be known as Ever and Vale. And they lived zombiely ever after… THE END!

Words: 1,031

Wow! Thank you!

I haven't read your entry yet, I'm just shocked to see someone else entering xD

No problem, but I should be thanking you for holding up this contest. It was fun writing about something in my bucketlist though, numbers 1 and 2 have to do with zombies. :D

LoL.
Well I just Lost><

Whys that? You shouldn't see it as a loss, your story has a well supported character build, its easy to get a sense of their character. The point of this is not just to win but to share a story that alot of people can be entertained by reading.

Hey Pearl, I'm interested in entering and if I can get this story to work the way I'd like it to, I'd love to post an entry. But it appears you have two threads for it: One here and one in the writing forum.

I'm pretty sure it belongs here, but it doesn't look like the entries from the other contest have been put in this thread. Which one do I post my entry in (if I ever get it finished)?

*headdesk* I wrote a story for your contest, and I'm quite happy with it, and there's nothing to add on, but it's about 100 words short of your minimum... I write really short stories. :lol:
Would that be alright with you, or do I need to try to pad it?

Also, I can combine your threads for you if you'd like. If you want it visible in the writing forum too, I can leave a redirect there. Probably should just have one thread.

@ Nolori - it doesn't matter which one you post it in, I'll see it either way.

@ Cherry - I doubt adding 100 words will change my opinion of it, so I'll take it as it is.
A redirect sounds fine.

Okay, there. The threads have been combined, and there's a redirect from the lit spot forum that'll expire in one month. It's a few days over your deadline, but it's that or a week. :lol:

Thanks for accepting my entry! Here it is:

The Quiet Death of Janet Mueller

She screamed.
It was as much an instinctual, uncontrollable action as it was an intelligent one. It's something driven into our heads from the time we're little children - "if a stranger ever tries to take you, scream your head off!" So Janet Mueller screamed.
Janet Mueller's scream was audible inside the Robinson's home, but they had gone to Oregon for great-grandma Robinson's funeral.
Janet Mueller's scream could be heard inside the home of Georgia Levinson, but her thick earplugs blocked out anything that may have roused her from her sleep. It was just as well, perhaps; miss Levinson stood at a tiny five feet and one inch, with only 90 pounds to her frail frame. She could no more overpower Janet Mueller's problems than she could overpower a labrador retriever, and the bite-shaped scars on her arms suggested she wasn't good at that.
Janet Mueller's scream made its way into the home of the Hartmans. Mr. Hartman was away on business, Mrs. Hartman was knocked out on sleeping pills, and their daughter Naomi had yet to return home.
Janet Mueller's scream could also be heard from the back room of Larry Friedman's house. Mr. Friedman looked up, as if that would help him hear better. He heard the scream and the terror within it. He nestled into his chair, hoping it might protect him. But what would truly protect him was his steel-reinforced doors, multiple alarm systems, barred windows, and aggressive labrador retriever. As long as Mr. Friedman stayed inside, he knew he would be safe.
Janet Mueller's scream was only slightly audible in the bedroom of the recently married Cole and Marissa Lavigne. "What was that?" the babysitter asked. Mr. Lavigne ignored her question and unzipped her pants.
Janet Mueller's scream echoed from room to room in the unfurnished home of the late Horace Newman. The FOR SALE sign on the front lawn told all that needed to be told.
And so Janet Mueller was left to fend for herself. She ran frantically down the suburban street, stumbling and looking back over her shoulder like they do in horror movies. Her pursuer shrunk farther and farther into the distance, following at a slow, shuffling pace. Janet turned a sharp left into the McConnell's yard, stumbling through a bush on the way. Mr. McConnell heard the rustling from his place on the toilet and made note to get his shotgun once he was done. He was going to deal with the raccoon problem himself.
Janet Mueller pushed her way through more yards than she could count in the dark September night. Sometimes she'd cross a street, hop over a fence, or run through three consecutive yards. She hoped that with her speed advantage on her unusually slow pursuant, they may lose track of her. The Lavigne's small terrier barked at her as she ran through their backyard, causing the babysitter to peek through the bedroom curtains. Mr. Lavigne pulled her back, afraid that someone might see her.
Janet Mueller finally came to rest under the back porch of Gina Lewis and Pam Deering. Their cat, Elton, saw Janet through the window, but Gina and Pam did not. Janet tried to control her loud and heavy breathing, afraid it may give her hiding place away to her pursuer. But the truth was that she had been alone for three blocks, having quite sufficiently lost her pursuant, and possibly also his interest.
Janet Mueller leaned against the side of Miss Lewis and Miss Deering's house as her breath gradually slowed. The light of the full moon filtered between the boards on the deck, leaving stripes of blueish light on her jeans.

Janet Mueller screamed again.
This time, her screams were of pain. When that man attacked her, she grabbed, kicked, bit, punched, and clawed her way out of his grasp as he grabbed, kicked, bit, punched, and clawed her back into his grasp. The bite marks up and down her left arm oozed blood, but at the time it seemed minor. But now Janet was in the worst pain she had ever experienced. Her arm throbbed and stabbed, her mouth felt as if it were on fire, her legs twisted and contorted involuntarily, and it was as if every rib in her chest were broken. Janet Mueller writhed on the ground underneath the porch, screaming whenever her vocal chords didn't threaten to snap. Miss Lewis and Miss Deering didn't hear Janet over the thrash metal blaring in their bedroom - or they thought it was part of the song.
The neighbors thought it was part of the song.
A crawling, tingly sensation crept up the back of Janet Mueller's skull. Her right arm, the only one she could still move voluntarily, went to it and came back with a clump of hair attached to a patch of skin. Janet screamed and bled into the dirt. Soon enough, her left hand's ring finger fell off, as if mocking her unwed status.

Naomi Hartman walked down the Lavigne's front lawn. She wrapped her cardigan around her chest tightly, though it wasn't cold out.
When she heard the first footstep, she thought it was the wind.
When she heard the second footstep, she didn't hear it at all.
When she heard the third footstep, she thought it was an animal.
No one heard Janet Mueller, and they wouldn't hear Naomi Hartman either.

Here are the two other entries I've received:

Originally Posted by seqmar

August 24, 1678

It has been awfully cold lately. As soon as I walk outside, my hair seems to turn straight to icicles. It’s a good thing mum has been keeping the fire going, since my fear of burning to death isn’t doing me any good nowadays. There are so many ways to die. Living just doesn’t seem worth it unless you leave this world in some sort of peaceful fashion. Great, now all I can think about is Death. That’s enough for tonight.

August 26, 1678

There is a terrible sickness that seems to infect anybody. Victims say they have severe abdominal pain, and I would know since my younger brother and mum have been complaining about it. That’s all they seem to do. Maybe I’m catching it too, I’ve been having intense headaches. But then again, schoolteacher Mathison won’t stop bugging me about my grammar.

August 27, 1678

Mum and Peter have been moved to a separate city. The Queen said it would benefit all and prevent the disease from spreading to healthy citizens. It might have just been because the Queen and her King have been disagreeing on every possible subject lately. Did I mention the King is infected? All just another day in Dimbokiesville.

August 30, 1678

I’m scared today. News has spread that every infected person in the Forbidden Town is sick with a terrible fever. There are rumors that they all fell sick of fever at the same time. Is this illness worse than every one thought? Teacher Mathison was one of the last to fall ill, and he was immediately moved to the Forbidden Town. My headaches cease to continue.

Silas set down the journal, and walked towards his bed, not knowing anything of what lie ahead.
He woke with a start. The fire was out. “Dad! Could you start up the fire? It’s freezing!” No reply. He moved towards the fire pit. Cold. How long had it been out? “Dad, wake up!” Silas slowly moved through the house, silently floating to his father’s room.
He found him lying in his bed face down, a large slit across the back of his upper neck. Blood seeped from the wound, filling the room with the smell of rusty metal. Silas tripped over himself as he rushed out of the room, to the outside of his house. He promptly proceeded to retch all over his tunic.
What he saw came slowly at first with the thought, ‘This is my worst fear about to come true.’ It took only a split second for Silas to mount his families’ only horse and speed off towards the Forbidden Town.

***
He arrived outside the hastily constructed town’s gate to find it had already been burst open. He blindly ran into the center of the town without looking about him. It was that smell, it was there again. He walked to one of the huts that look slightly more destroyed than the others. He came face to face with a pair of eyes with smashed shards of spectacles lodged into them. He backed away and immediately recognized the body. Teacher Mathison was hardly identifiable under the mess of old blood, debris and the burns that marked his body. He too had a large gash on his upper neck, though his neck and head were no longer attached.
Silas felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around. “Gahhhh! I surrender!” He fainted with the overwhelming thought of Flame and Death.

***
“Wake up you stupid numb brain! There’s no time for naps now.” Silas quickly came to consciousness and scooted backwards as if he was running from Death himself. “Get away from me!” he shouted and covered his face with his arm. “Aleyna, don’t be so harsh on a young man who has seen victims.” He felt a gentle touch on his forehead. “Now, what is your name young man?” The woman said it as if he were an infant. “Silas.” The woman had a calming effect on Silas. The one he guessed was Aleyna looked at the older woman and said, “You haven’t introduced me yet.” She looked tough, but slightly spoiled. The older woman, still gently but with an edge towards the girl said, “This is Aleyna, and I am Yulianna. We are Outcasts.”
Silas didn’t know much, but he knew Outcasts had to do something bad to become one. “Why are you Outcasts?” Yulianna looked troubled, but the girl butted in before another word could be said, “I don’t think it’s your business. Besides, we saved you, so let it be.” Without another word, Aleyna stormed off to another room. “Where are we anyway?” Silas looked around for the first time. It was a nice looking structure adorned with many figurines and sculptures. “Welcome to an Outcast’s home. I suppose you would like an explanation about this situation?” She must have been a mind reader.

“You remember the outbreak of that strange disease, don’t you? And how the ill all had a terrible fever at the same time? Well, the Outcasts have had many foreseers who saw Doom in an illness that you infect many, and kill many. The infected turned on their fellow humans, and would harvest their brains. The thing is, the infected are hardly human anymore. They are an entirely new race. Zombies.”
“But not all Zombies are bad, right?” Silas was scrambling for reassurance. “All Zombies are Evil. They will harvest from whoever they see." A look of horror spread across Silas’s face. “Not… No. I won’t believe it! There is always some good left, is there not?” Yulianna’s face wore a look of concern “If your family member is infected, you could be in danger. Zombies go to their human past to seek out victims.”
“No!” Silas abruptly stood. “It’s not true! It’s just some made up stories by OUTCASTS!” He passed Aleyna as he ran out the door to the house.
Silas found his steed, mounted, and was once again off towards the Forbidden Town. He arrived to find a group of pale adults and children staring blankly at him. “Peter! Mum! I’ve come to get you out of here!” He was crying as he said it. He saw Peter approaching and willingly rushed to him. “Peter, we’re leaving now, find mum.”
Peter continued towards Silas. As Peter arrived by Silas’s side, Silas smiled, for what felt like the first time in ages. As he reached out to grab at Peter, he felt a stabbing pain in his neck. And then that smell again.

Originally Posted by red rose

Zombie Love

Marina looked up at the night starts and back towards Alex. “I love you” She whispered to his lifeless form. She knew that she needed to take out the luger pistol from her blood stained jeans, mostly his blood and shoot him right in the back of the head where his spine met with his skull but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Pretty soon he would make the change from being her best friend and lover of three years, two of which sent killing zombie ass to a zombie himself. She knew that he would attack the first living thing that was around and she knew that it would be her only she didn’t know if she had it in her. The sun had set not more than an hour ago and Alex had been dead for two. A small horde of zombies had snuck up on them and they had all targeted Alex. She had been off a little ways, hunting for their meal. It usually evolved going into people’s homes and looking for canned food. Most of the city was vacant so it wasn’t a problem for her to just stroll into homes and the deserted city was safe during the day time, well it had been until recently. Recently a new breed of zombies had begun to crop up. They were ones that could walk in the day light, they were the ones that had killed her Alex. She had left him sleeping when she went out and rushed back to him when she heard the piecing scream. Marina had only been a mile away but she was already to late. By the time she had her rifle out and firing the zombies had already pinned him to the ground, one of which ripping open his stomach and spilling out his intestines and other entrails for them to feast on. There had been twenty three of the damned things and she killed every last one of them for her Alex. She had hurried down to him and kneeled next to him, lifting up his head into her lap to comfort him. Alex had pressed a hand to the open wound on his stomach and flinching back the pain for a few seconds to tell her how much he loved her and what life could have been like. Marina blinked back tears as she came to the present. The low and primitive growls of the zombies could be heard across the clearing she was in with him. Marina got up immedialty and picked up her weapons. There weren’t that many zombies now but Marina new that if she let off a shot that more zombies would come to investigate the noise that would be made. She took out the cutting knife that was latched onto the side of her jeans she had picked up in some ones house not more than a month ago and gripped it so tight her knuckles became as white as Alex’s dead face. She circled the approaching zombie that was closest to her and lunged for it. The other two zombies that were following the one she was attacking were a little ways off yet. With all the emotions that she had in side of her she punched it in the face. She could hear the sick crunch of the zombies cheek bone being crushed by her fist and she relished every single sound. The zombie was wearing tattered and blood stained clothes that looked like they had once belonged to a man. Killing the zombie was an easy task for her. Once she had been satisfied with beating its face in she took it by the shirt collar and with her free hand plunged the knife deep into where its heart should have been. Thick orange ooze spilled from the zombies wound. The deep crimson blood of the human that had once been inside the zombie had turned into the sickening color once the disease had attacked the cells. Marina twisted the knife deep inside the wound and taking the knife out she slit its throat in one clean sweep. The tender skin of the zombie ripped open easily. Getting up from the zombie Marina felt a little better and at the same time felt her rage build up. She looked behind her and saw that her beloved was starting to twitch. Pretty soon Marina would have to kill him, a hard task if she didn’t do it before he turned all the way. New zombie’s were always the hardest to kill. They had their human strength mixed in with the virus’s. They mixture would be equal making new zombies twice as strong as the older ones. Marina saw the second zombie approach and made quick work of it. The zombie had been a girl, skinny little whisp of a girl that posed no real threat. Marina loped the zombie girls head off in one violent swing. At first Marina thought she had missed but the head slid off after a second. A squirt of the orange liquid hit her clothes burning a small acidic hole into them. The zombie fell to its knees and backwards. Marina looked at its head and saw it blink a few times before closing its eyes completely.

Five in total, everyone's a winner so far... depending on how many more entries I get, and the general quality, I may remove some prizes.

Entry six, ahoy!

Well, this mostly worked out the way I wanted it to! I feel it moves a bit quickly at the end, but I don't want to worry and edit and worry and edit, if I do that I'll never post this in time. I really like the concept of the zombie apocolypse story! Romero-esque zombies are a totally under represented minority in published fiction. (God bless you, Max Brooks.)
Sorry this is the longest entry. =\ I am apparently incapable of writing a good, succinct story.

Anyway, I call this The Song.

---
The initial sickness had been blamed on all sorts of things over the past few years. Theories had ranged from bugs and biological warfare to water pollution and holes in the ozone layer. Elek had long since decided it didn't matter. Whatever the cause, it was incurable. Whatever the cause, it had its vicious way with everything he used to know. Whatever the cause, he was still just as infected.

He didn't remember exactly when he'd been bitten. It must have been some time ago, because he'd been telling himself he'd tell the compound about it 'tomorrow'. But 'tomorrow' was always a day away. It had been a day away for the past few weeks at least and it hadn't done any harm to anyone. He hadn't had any urges for blood or flesh and he hadn't been any shorter of temper. If anything, he'd found a strange kind of peace recently. With the knowledge that this infection was festering inside him, he either had to find peace with his life or go off and die in some foolish glory or honor or whatever it was they called killing yourself for the 'safety of the compound'. It was hard to imagine that he had once found that to be such a noble, even idyllic thing to do. It was so much easier to stand behind morals and codes when they didn't apply to him. Somewhere in the part of his mind that still wanted to live by that code, he believed he would kill himself if there were ever any dangerous symptoms. For now, the visual ones could be hidden and they didn't do anyone any harm but him.

The tears in his skin from the creature's teeth had healed quite nicely, actually. Elek hadn't expected that at all. Of course, he hadn't expected to be sane this long either. The only thing left to remind him that he had been attacked at all was the fact that he was beginning to be able to see his veins clear beneath his skin. They were turning shades of green and purple he had never seen before. The colors had spread along his arm at an alarming pace and were creeping across his chest. It was only a matter of time before his beating heart distributed the infection all along his body. Assuming, of course, that he lived so long. There was a distinct possibility that once the infection hit his heart, he would turn.

Elek was holding out a stray thread of hope, however. He'd never seen such prominent veins on any of the creatures before. Granted, he'd never taken a very close look at any them and they were always covered in an odd assortment of filth. If their veins were colored the same way, he had never seen it. And if their hearts no longer pumped blood through their body it was quite possible they wouldn't have veins of any color.
Elek tried to shake the thought from his mind. They had to have blood. If they didn't have blood they wouldn't be able to move. Of course, they didn't seem to need to be able to breathe either, so by that logic...


There was a noise outside his bunk. It sounded like some of the others were coming back to the room. This was nothing unusual; the hottest part of the desert's afternoon was always spent indoors. Only the guard stations remained open to the sun and they were switched out often. What was unusual was that Elek had lost track of so much time. Hadn't it just been morning? Hadn't he woken up not long ago and discovered how far the infection had spread? He couldn't be certain where the past few hours had gone and he didn't particularly care to know. He threw a shirt on, made certain the sleeves covered his arms and plastered a friendly smile onto his face.

As soon as the others came into the bunk and began talking to him, Elek found the false smile increasingly hard to maintain. Casual questions sounded like accusations, for which Elek was already preparing defenses. But their conversation didn't center on Elek, no matter how incomplete his answers, and soon his presence was lost amid other thoughts. This, more than anything Elek had given thought to, gave him hope. It wasn't simply wishful thinking that he had no symptoms, save the odd colors stirring beneath his skin. No one else noticed anything either.
There was a small layer of worry in this thought, though. If they did not notice him, who else was infected that they were unaware of?

The rustle of cloth heralded one of the guards of the compound. His eyes went straight for Elek. There was a terrible moment when Elek would have sworn the guard knew. The guard had come, rifle in hand, to end Elek's life. I'm not infected! Elek would lie, I'm sick, but I'm not changing! I'm not one of them! I'm not-!
"You're up."
The guard handed Elek the gun. He moved without thinking, taking the gun and making his way out of the bunk amidst the teasing laughter of the others. No one enjoyed being stuck out in the desert heat when the sun had planted itself at the highest point in the sky, but Elek was glad, at least, for the solitude it would provide. His thoughts, however confused and worried they were, were far better than suffering the guilt and paranoia that came from being around the others.
Were those symptoms, he wondered. Guilt? Paranoia? Did that plague all of the infected before they turned violent and uncaring?


It was these thoughts that wrapped themselves around Elek's mind as he settled into the guard tower. The sun beat down against the tarpaulin awning and the metal pipes that served as makeshift supports. The pipes hissed whenever he accidentally brushed up against them. Elek sat under the cover with the rifle on his lap. The blistering heat made it hard to focus on any single thing as the hours wasted away. His mind would continue its fatalist way towards his coming demise for a time before leisurely switching back over to the false hopes he had collected over the past few weeks since his initial infection. It would remain like this for many hours until the sun finally began to fall beyond the distant horizon of the flat, sandy ground.

In the orange and purples of the evening sky, a figure stalked up towards the compound. It was moving slowly under the dying sun. Elek's attention went to the figure, finally pulling his thoughts away from his own end, in whatever way it might manifest itself. The body lifted up its head and made a noise, though Elek could not make out the words. The rifle fell from his lip as he stood up and went to the guard rail in hopes of hearing the sound better. If the body made the sound again, Elek did not hear it. Was the person calling for help? Was it so glad to be within the sight of civilization that he had taken up a tuneless song? More figures began to join the first, their black forms moving across the desert in a tired procession of determination. Had an entire compound fallen to the mad, voracious creatures of the desert? Were these the survivors of some deadly attack that had trekked their way across the endless heat in hopes of finding other people? Elek couldn't tell exactly, but hope swelled in his poorly beating heart.
If these people could survive whatever had driven them from their homes and the madness that came from the high sun, then surely Elek could face the infection in his veins and triumph.

Elek began to open the gates for the new comers. The rusted levers and pulleys squealed their protests as they were forced to move.
"What are you doing?" Hailed the opposite guard tower.
"Open your side!" Elek responded.
"You can see them from here?" The guard of the next tower asked, "They're not the creatures?"
The thought had never even crossed Elek's mind. They couldn't be. These people were the survivors of the holocaust that had taken mankind. He and they were the same.
"Open your side!" Elek repeated. It took the other guard some time, perhaps doubting Elek's judgment, but he eventually began working the levers that would open the other side.

The figures began to move faster as the great gates shrieked open. Elek could almost feel their mounting hope float through the air towards him. Their song picked up again. Louder now and far more clear. There were no words, only the primal, guttural sounds of human want lifting up to usher in the coming night. Their song called more and more of the dark silhouettes until a shadowed bulk of humanity was making its way towards the compound. They did not move like individual humans, but rather like a single, great creature rolling along the distant sand. Cries of fear and anger and human emotion colored by hate went up from the other guard towers. Across from Elek, the guard tried desperately to shut the rusted gates he helped to had set into motion. He called out to Elek with a question or a plea that Elek did not fully understand. The world seemed to move too quickly for him now. The shadowed mass that was coming for the compound was growing at a rate too large for Elek to measure. The words and cries that came from the compound passed by Elek without giving him time to comprehend them.

All Elek did understand was that beautiful song that the creatures of the desert were singing. The lyricless sounds of their collective voice was calling to Elek, but the noise of the compound were terribly distracting. The other guard was still shouting at him. Elek looked down at the lever that controlled the gates. Was that what the other guard was shouting about? Elek had a vague remembrance of that object being important not long ago. He wrapped his hand around it and pulled on it half-heartedly. The rusted metal would not budge without being forced and Elek no longer had enough force to give. He could see the strange colors beneath his skin running along his hands now. That had not been there before, had it? It didn't matter. Elek was far too tired to pretend it mattered.

The figures had made it through the gates. Those horrible noises from the compound grew louder and louder, and were now accompanied by the repeated explosions of gunfire. Elek did not understand why. Why would anyone want to end that song? It was already being interrupted by sounds of cracking and tearing, why did they need to interrupt it further? But through all of this the primal song persevered and continued to grow in strength.

The figures made their way up the stairs toward Elek and he desperately tried to sing their song. It was such a beautiful song and Elek wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. It hurt to try. His throat rasped out only a parched hiss of air. The figures looked at him blankly, sniffed the air and turned away. Elek tried to ask them to return, to keep singing the song to him. He couldn't form the words. His mouth opened and closed, but he had forgotten how to form proper sounds.

Elek sank down to the metal floor. It was good that they didn't show any interest in him. The screaming and the cries of the people who had watched him so suspiciously were nothing to him. It was the sorrowful moans of the wandering, blankly staring figures that Elek took comfort in. They were such beautiful lullabies, reverberating low and powerful through the metal walls of the guard tower.
And he was so tired.
A good sleep was all he needed. When he awoke he'd be in far better health than he was now.

In fact, Elek was quite certain he'd be able to sing.

@ Nolori - writing can be long and succinct, they're not incompatible. Thank you for your entry!

Ah, well, heres my pathetic attempt at humor.

---

Flowers for Grandma
By Nekochan5345
with some help from Palmoun because shes awesome like that

It was a particularly nice morning when Jasper Monroe and Cooper Quinn made their merry way to the cemetery for the day. It was your typical June day, scorching hot and blindingly sunny, a perfect day for a dip in the pool and a perfect day to start your undead life on. Cooper was the larger of the two boys, broad but not really chubby, with a head of stringy brown hair and eyes that were practically invisible as they seemed to be lost in the roles of his pudgy cheeks every time he smiled. Monroe was average looking on so many levels, with eyes and hair a standard muddy brown and you’re typical couch potato clothing.
“I hate you,” Monroe hissed.
“But I love you!” Cooper sung and made to hug him before his friend scooted away like a scared little girl.
“Get the hell away from me! I can smell your BO from here!” He hissed and scowled in his general direction. Cooper frowned at this and crossed his arms to hide the pit stains forming.
“Its hot man,”
“No shit!”
“Nawww, does the heat make Jasper cranky?”
“I am not cranky!” He huffed crankily and stomped his foot, “Why are we here again?”
“To pay respects to my grandma”
“Didn’t she die before you were born? And before your parents were even married,”
“Shhhh, she doesn’t know that I’m a bastard child! She might disown me,”
“Shes dead…”
“Don’t say that youll hurt her feelings!” Cooper protested as they reached her grave
“But shes-“Monroe growled.
“Shhhhh…” Cooper protested again and looked down at the grave with anticipation, for what Monroe was unsure. They stood there for a few moments literally baking in the sun as Cooper stood looking at the grave stupidly. Monroe was in the middle of running down all the ways of killing off Cooper, somewhere between running a steam roller over his head and death by raccoons, when Cooper suddenly started to curse wildly at his grandmother’s tombstone.
“What the hell man!?” Monroe squeaked.
“She’s being racist again!” He explained and punched the tombstone. Then, realizing this was a bad idea, he retracted his likely broken fist and cursed again, “There’s no need to get violent you damned whore!” He stopped then, as if listening, “MY MOTHER IS A GOOD WOMAN WHO WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO OUR DOG YOU BITCH! Take it back you dumb broad!”
Monroe through his hands up, "What the hell are you talking about!?”
“I will not have my mother’s sexual decency be brought into question! She got goneria from the toilet seat grandma! THE TOILET SEAT!”
“She’s dead!”
“Yea and she’s a LYING WHORE!!”
“Fine, whatever, but she is DEAD! She can’t talk,"
Cooper looked at him, deadpan serious, almost afraid and slapped one meaty hand over
Monroe’s face.
“Shut up! Don’t say that man. She can hear you, and so can everyone else!” he said and gestured to the other graves. Monroe looked at his friend for a long moment, questioning his sanity as any sane friend would, before backing up a few steps. A good friend would have called the nearest mental institution and gotten the men in white to help their mentally diseased friend. However, Monroe was not a good friend by any standards and his mind went immediately to how he could mess with him. With a little smirk, Monroe stepped over to the grave next to him and jumped on it, hard.
Panic was apparent in Coopers features, and he rushed over to his friend and tried desperately to yank him away. Monroe just laughed.
“Stop it man! You might make him angry!” He squealed.
“Yea like that’s going to happen. Their dead, worm food, they can’t do anything to me!” He laughed.
“Shut up man! They can hear you!”
Monroe laughed again and stomped yet again on the grave, “Yea right, they can’t hear a-“
The boy suddenly stopped as a loud crack broke through the air and a look of surprise flooded over his features. For a moment, there was silence, and then a hurried scratching came from beneath him. With a slow, jerking movement, Cooper and Monroe looked down at the grave in horror as suddenly the ground beneath them started to cave inwards. Monroe gasped and tried to step away, but in an instant the depression in the ground was suddenly filled as an object shot out from the earth and latched onto Monroe’s leg.
The boy screamed like a little girl as he danced around and tried to shake the rotting excuse for a hand off of his ankle.
“GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!” He cried and after a few moments of flailing about, the hand let go and retreated into the earth. Cooper stared into the ground curiously as Monroe continued to run around the cemetery, still convinced it was on him.
“Huh,” Was all he said.
“OH GOD! IT TOUCHED ME! IT ACTUALLY TOUCHED ME!” Monroe screamed, “What the hell was that!?”
“Uh…” he looked at the grave, “I think that was Mr. C. F. McFarley…age twenty three…”
“WHAT!?” He squealed as suddenly another hand started to claw its way out of the hole, followed by a head and shoulders and then the entire body. It laid there motionless on the ground like a dead fish, not even breathing. Cooper stared at the corpse as Monroe began to run around wildly again.
“Dude…it’s a zombie…” Cooper commented, dumfounded.
“NO SHIT!” He screamed and hid behind him, using Cooper as a meat shield, “…I…I wonder what it wants…What does it want Cooper?”
“Maybe HE, wants to beat the shit out of you for waking him up,” Cooper grumbled.
Monroe’s eyes went wide, “I’M SO SORRY MR. ZOMBIE GUY! I didn’t mean to wake you up! DON’T EAT ME!”
“Braiiiiinz…” The zombie moaned, still face down in the dirt.
“OH GOD! IT’S THE ZOMBIE APOCOLYPSE! ZOMBIE APOCOLYPSE!” Monroe screamed.
With a horrible crackling noise the zombie lifted its head from the grass to look at them. With a long, sorrowful moan, he reached out with one long, boney, green hand as they both backed away as quickly as they could. Its deeply sunken in red eyes still stared at them as, with some difficulty, it lifted itself from the ground and stood, swaying slightly, in front of them. It was rather tall, about 6’3”, with short fluffy black hair that had fallen out in several places. He was a sickly looking pale green with no muscle tone to be seen. He had hardly any wounds or injuries, except an awful looking kink in his back that made his torso lean unnaturally to the side.
“Braiiiinz…” it moaned again and this time the boys both squealed in terror. With that the zombie started to stagger towards them slowly, arms held out in front of him, reaching out for their young tender flesh.
“Oh God! I’m too young! Please don’t eat us!” Monroe cried.
“Yea, he may be an idiot but he’s right! Were too young! Eat my grandma instead, she’s fat, I bet she tastes better!” Cooper pleaded.
“Oh God don’t eat my brain! It’s all mushy and dumb! You don’t really want to eat our brains do you Mr. Zombie!? I bet you were real nice! Spare us please!” Monroe pleaded.
The zombie stared at them blankly for a moment. Then, slowly, he moved his hands to his hips. Grabbing on to his pelvis with all his zombie strength he thrusted his torso sideways letting out an awful, gut turning, crack as he reconnected his spine. Then he leaned back and yawned.
“Uh…no, I’m just kidding,” he said in a hoarse, tired voice, “But do you guys maybe have a candy bar or a ham sandwich or something? I mean even a pudding cup or something…I really am starving…”
The boys just stared at him and the zombie stared back blankly.
“You CANT be serious…” Monroe gawked in disbelief.
“Well maybe just half a sandwich or something. Even a few potato chips or a couple of pretzels would be fine…” It said.
“Your…your dead!” Monroe squeaked.
“Yea, but I’m still hungry…” It pointed out.
“How are you-?” He cut himself off mid thought, “Why are you even-….Cooper…what did you do?”
“Me?” He responded in an offended tone, “Why do you think I did this?”
“Because your YOU!” Monroe hissed.
“Maybe you could get me some of those gold fish crackers?” The zombie asked.
“Why would I try to bring some random guy back from the dead?”
Monroe just stared at him knowingly.
“Fine…I did it as my extra credit biology experiment in April. …I didn’t think it worked…”
“What about one of those Cup’O Noodles?...Their cheep right?” the zombie asked, ignoring them.
“How’d you do it?” Monroe asked.
“Some radioactive scrap metal and miracle grow… I was trying to grow glow in the dark flowers, you know, to do something nice for the dead people. I didn’t mean to resurrect anyone,” Cooper muttered.
“Where in the hell did you get radioactive metal?!” Monroe yelled.
“My dad’s junk yard,” Cooper explained.
“People can’t just throw out radioactive shit! It’s illegal!”
“Hah, don’t tell my dad that,” Cooper chuckled.
“Hell, even one of those stupid Slim Fast shakes!” The zombie exclaimed, though his features stayed the same.
“Would you shut up!?” Monroe yelled, “Were talking here!”
“Hey, I’m the one that came back from the dead here…” it protested, “I think that after ten years in the ground I at least deserve a little food. It wasn’t easy digging out of there. I at least deserve a candy bar or something…as long as it doesn’t have peanuts, I’m allergic.”
“Yea, well if you’ve been dead that long you can wait ten more minutes,” Monroe grumbled in response, “And you’re a zombie! You don’t even breathe! I don’t think peanuts are going to do anything.”
“Oh, I’m sorry; did YOU come back from the dead after a decade of rotting in a box? I don’t think so,” It snapped sarcastically though its expression was as blank as ever.
“Jesus, do you even blink? The lack of emotion is kind of creepy” He asked.
“Ninety percent of my body is maggots, you’re lucky I can talk,” He said and spat one of the little worms in his face. The boy nearly threw up as he wiped the blood and maggot infested saliva off his face.
“You can at least try. I mean you’re alive again! YAY! Give me a smile Charley!” Cooper exclaimed excitedly.
“Yea, yay,” He said blandly, smiling just to humor him and squirting a few more maggots, and some of his limited stomach contents this time, into Monroe’s face as he attempted to grin. Monroe threw up, “And actually my names Connor,”
“Whatever Conrad. Anyway, since I resurrected you, does this mean you’re my zombie slave?!” Cooper asked excitedly.
“Uh no…” The zombie said.
“DO MY BIDDING BITCH!” He exclaimed and kicked the zombie in the shin.
“OW!” It cried as its leg fell off.
“Now, as my first order as your new master, I command you to eat my Geometry teacher!” He declared.
“If you don’t give me something to eat soon I might just do that…” The zombie sighed.
“Just ignore him,” Monroe said, shaking his head as Cooper continued to ramble on about world domination, “He’s crazy”
“So I gathered…” It said with exasperation, “Man, ive been trying to get out of that coffin for months and as soon as I get up here I have to deal with this crap…damn I want nachos…”
“Wait, you’ve been alive for that long?” He asked, a little surprised, “Damn, what did you do to entertain yourself”
“Nothing, the other people down there are really annoying…so I just ignored them and focused on getting out,” he shrugged, ripping some of the flesh of his back at the sudden movement.
“Wait…you’re not the only one? COOPER!” he yelled at his friend.
“And then after we’ve taken Mexico at the day of the dead festival, well move onto Russia! They’ll never see it coming!” Cooper rambled as he laughed manically.
“COOPER!” Monroe yelled.
“WHAT!? How dare you interrupt your new emperor! I’m plotting damn it!” He exclaimed, puffing his chest out and shoving his hand into his shirt like Napoleon.
“How many graves did you put that radioactive manure on?” Monroe asked.
“Pretty much all of them…” he said with a shrug.
“FUCK!” Monroe said, slapping his face with disbelief.
“It’s not THAT bad. I mean, hey, now I don’t just have just one zombie minion I have a zombie ARMY!” He laughed.
“Seriously Coop! Wait…so you really were talking to your grandma…Damn I thought you were just nuts,” Monroe said, looking down at her grave curiously.
“Who? Her?” The zombie asked and pointed to the grave, “No, she’s really dead…”
“Why am I not surprised…” Monroe sighed.
“I HATE YOU GRANDMA!” Cooper yelled at the grave. The zombie and Monroe both shook their heads at his stupidity and sighed. Just then, the ground around them all started to rumble and arms, heads and legs started to pop out from the ground like strange, rotting, flowers. Cooper and Monroe stood, pressed against each other as the zombies started to emerge.
“AHHH THE SUN! IT BURNS!” One cried.
“FOOOD!” Cried another.
“I could really go for McDonalds…”
“Does anyone have a banana or something?”
“Taaacooooossss…”
“I vant brotvurst NOWGH! Or I shall eat youuugh”
“Oh my God! Where did my other eye go! I swore I had it in my pocket a second ago,” exclaimed one.
“Sorry man I ate it” another responded.
“You owe me another one!”
“Damn…” It said and popped an eye out before handing it to another.
“FOOOOD!”
“FOOOOOD!”
“FOOOOOOD!”
“FOOOOOOOOOOD!”
“Oh damn it not all this again,” Monroe sighed tiredly.
“Shit I came up here to get away from them…and now they’re here…” The first zombie sighed, “I hate my afterlife…”
“I know how you feel man,” Monroe said and placed a hand on the zombies rotting shoulder.
“If I whack you in the skull with a shovel you’ll really know how I feel…” he mumbled.
“Hm? What did you say?”
“Uh…nothing…”
“Alright everyone, calm down, calm down!” Cooper said, trying to subdue the crowd.
“Who the hell is he?” One zombie asked.
“I don’t know but his legs remind me of ham hocks...” Another mused.
“Mmmmm Hammmm…” a good chunk of the crowd responded.
“Alright, no eating people just yet!” He declared, “I shall feed you my zombie minions!”
“What did he call us?”
“Is he one of those evil scientist guys?”
“Who cares?! He says he has food!”
“FOOOOD!”
“Yes, food, I shall provide it to you! And you shall be my faithful army! AND YOU SHALL NEVER GO HUNGRY AGAIN!” Cooper proclaimed as Monroe and the first zombie face palmed themselves.
“Hey, I like this guy,”
“Who cares, I want pizza!”
“Vive La Revolución!”
“First Walgreens then THE WORLD!” Cooper shouted and was met with a resounding roar of approval from the crowd as they ran off toward the nearest supermarket.
And so the Zombie Apocalypse began. As Cooper had said, they began with the local supermarkets, gaining the trust of all the dead in the area and resurrecting more and more along the way. They then moved on to the entire state, then the country and then to Mexico. Each time their numbers increased and soon they had taken over every food providing establishment in the entire western hemisphere, bringing the people to their knees and eating all the food if they refused to surrender to Cooper’s reign.
It was not long until the entire world fell into his grasp, as they soon found that zombies were nearly impossible to kill. But soon, as he had resurrected nearly all of the available dead on earth, there was not enough resources to feed all of the people and the zombies at once. Because Cooper was stupid, he refused to kill off his army and soon the entire world fell into disarray as everything on earth started to starve to death, even the zombies.
In the end the human race fell to its knees and the world faced one of the largest mass extinctions in its history, all because of one idiot with a bag of manure.

What a Headache
By EmiEmi

There's this strange feeling in my skull.... I open my eyes to see what's going on. Last I remember, some guy was lunging for my throat. He had blood running down his face and onto his white polo. He'd had a golf club in his hand, however I didn't think he was actually using that. It had seemed like there was much more blood on his gaping jaws... Looking around me now, I realize I'm on the same golf course that I had been on before all the crazy stuff started happening. I think the guy in white polo had been my husband. Although my mind's a bit foggy right now and I'm having problems identifying all the faces in my memory. I put my hand to my head in hopes of relieving a head ache that has planted itself in the upper right corner of my forehead. However the movement seems slow and once my hand reaches its destination, I feel it fall right through my skull, as if there's not a skull there at all. My fingers squelch into a mushy liquid that I can only assume is the remnants of my brain. What the hell happened?

The rest of my head is intact, thank goodness. However that provides no explanation as to why I'm even alive. Logically, a gaping hole in my head should mean that I'd be dead right now. Well I'm not. Either way, I've got to find my husband and make sure that he's alright. He had been wearing a white polo, right? When I stand, my legs are weak and I can feel my knees knock together. My vision swims from the sudden change in elevation so I raise my arms up horizontally, making a moaning sound in an attempt to silence the pounding headache that I've got. Since these side effects don't fade after a few moments, I decide to take a few awkward steps forward. Suddenly I hear screaming from somewhere on the course. it sparks more screaming. This makes me angry, seems as how it does nothing to sooth the pain that's now coursing through my entire body. In a desperate attempt to stop the screaming, I join in. maybe someone will hear that I'm in pain and shut everyone else up.

Although my vision is still swimming, I can make out some of what's going on on the golf course. There's a commotion happening in a nearby sand pit. I can see a lot of chunky red bits flying into the air as a murderous screaming begins to gurgle to a stop. Good. At least that solves some of the problem. I turn back around, feeling old because of how slow the motion is. Just as I've completed the one-eighty, I see someone coming at me. Thick brown hair covers the person's face, or maybe her head is turned. Either way the thing isn't watching where she's (I'm assuming because of the long hair) going and on the path she's taking, she'll crash right into me. So I scream something that's incomprehensible even to myself at her and lurch forward, stumbling towards her. As I do this, she turns her head towards me and my vision focuses long enough to make out wide, frightened blue eyes and a small, teen-age looking body.

Even now that she's registered that I'm in front of her, she still doesn't stop and only picks up the speed. This makes me angry. is she just going to mow me over? Once she reaches me, she moves as if she's about to dodge to my left. However she's not going to get off that easily. I reach out and wrap my arms around her, both of us falling backwards onto the grassy ground of the golf course.

I pull at her pretty hair and realize that it's full of blood, or maybe that's from my own hands. She is screaming louder than any human I've ever heard scream, and right in my ear, too. So I have no choice but to clamp one hand around her mouth. I feel her teeth sink into my flesh as easily as they would cheese, which astonishes me. Although, looking closer, my skin has taken on a slightly greenish tinge. But that gives the girl no right to bite into me! Thankfully, it doesn't last long. She pulls her head as far away from my hand as possible, even though that's only a few centimeters. She spews vomit all over my hand. I should feel repulsed, however I don't smell the putrid stench of it like I expected so it only makes me angry that she's dirtying my nice golfing cloths. We're tangled on the ground and I can feel her kicking at every angle she can manage, yet none of this seems to hurt me. Suddenly I feel another weight added to our little party and there's another pair of hands thrown into the mix. Skin just as green as mine is wrapped around the girls neck and I take the opportunity to latch my mouth onto her ear. I'm not sure why I choose to bite her, maybe to get pay back for her taking a chunk out of my hand. The girl screams so loud that I feel compelled to punch her in the head. I punch her again, just for good measure and this time I can feel and hear a crunch. her screaming stops.

Despite the cease in the sound, I still take another bite at her, trying to break through her skull. I can feel her blood pouring onto my face and it seems to make my headache ease just a bit.

But that doesn't last for long.

After a few moments, I feel something make contact with the good side of my head. It's the other guy. I lift my head away from the girls' and scream at the person who had dared to hit me. He hadn't hit me hard., but it was still enough to piss me off.

He screams at me and jumps forward, trying to catch me. But I'm too fast for him, even with these old-lady-like movements. I rise to my feet and begin to stumble away from him, the headache returning as strong as ever. Maybe if I get some more brains in my mouth... Alright. Was it just me or did that thought seem incredibly twisted on so many levels? Anyway, I see some other guy standing on the course. He's tall and dark, his skin contrasting with the light blue polo and the white visor that he wears. He's waving some metal object around and it's glinting in the sunlight. There's a loud bang and I now know that the object he's waving around is a gun. I start running towards the guy, my week legs slowing me down and making my run choppy and ungraceful. Before I reach him, though, he turns on me and fires the gun. I stop, trying to figure out where the bullet entered my body.

He shoots again and I lose vision in my right eye. I kneel down, trying to blink and re-acquire my sight. The guy is running towards me now and he picks up a club nearby and swings it at my head. I've lost the vision in both of my eyes now, and I can no longer hear any screaming. I reach up to see where he's hit me, but my hand flies through thin air and I realize he's taken off my head. The bastard took off my head! Suddenly my arm's gone and I've been knocked backwards onto the ground. There's a foot on my chest and I feel pressure on my remaining arm. I think he's taken that one off now and he's pulling off one of my legs. Once that's done, the other one follows quickly. Well now what? I have no limbs, no head. I guess all that I can do now is lay here... I hope my husband's alright. Well I'm sure that if he finds me, he'll put me back together. Until then, I'll just stay right here. Yeah, right here is alright. Perfectly fine. Just fine...

The cold blood that was splattered over Donovan's face left him with a bad taste in his mouth. It was a grim day, even grimmer than normal. It was hard to have a good day, though, in a post-apocalyptic world. It had been almost 5 years. The scientist at first, they had all said “Kill the brain, kill the zombie.” What they hadn't counted on was the infected. Or the people that simply died every day of natural causes. They became zombies when they died too. Everyone was a living corpse waiting to happen. It was that thought that made Donny sick to his stomach every night, while he cleaned his weapons from the caked on, black grime that accumulated during the day. The worlds population had taken a drastic decline, foreseeable as it was. 3 Billion, to a few million if they were lucky enough. And even then, they were all scattered. People had found out, over the years, that it was easier to be a lone wolf rather than watch the people you grow to care for die and turn into the enemy. Donny himself was finally beginning to realize that, staring down at the body of his long time companion and best friend, Paul.

The guy had been huge. A powerhouse of a man, who killed the overgrown dead vermin with his own hands. But here he was, skin already yellowing, the whites of his eyes tinted a nasty brown color while his irises were fogged over in a blindness only death could bring. That's one thing most people didn't realize about zombies, if they didn't get up close and personal with them. The things were as blind as bats. In fact, that's pretty much how they functioned. Sound, smell, vibrations, temperature changes.... But they couldn't see. The body, once dead, doesn't regenerate at all when it changes. No... It just starts moving again. And looking down at Paul, Donny waited, counting each second that passed until Paul started to move again. It was only a matter of time. But the younger of the two men, standing perched over Paul's corpse, machete poised carefully, refused to do anything until he saw that first twitch. He wouldn't defile his friends body until it was no longer his.

Donny's eyes, a crisp, hardened hazel, were bloodshot, and intent on the face of his dead partner, teeth gritted and lips drawn back into a harsh grimace. Every muscle in his body and face were tense with anticipation. It was Donny's blood that splattered his sunbrowned skin, and his dingy white shirt. It was drying, chilled by the damp night air. If he looked to either side, the man would see that this world, the children's park he was standing in, was a wasteland of piled up bodies, garbage, and rotting gore. Skeletons were around, yes, but most of them had been scavenged for the bigger bones. They were strong, and made good makeshift weapons. Break off the end of a femur, and the splintered edge of it slides right nice through rotten skin. Straight up under the chin, and up through to the brain. It was the least messy way to kill one. Some preferred shooting out the brains with a shotgun. But that just gets everywhere. And ammo is hard to come by. After the first time Donny had to pick and scraped bits of decaying brain off of his living room wall, he decided shooting them was not something he would employ when it came to killing zombies. No, he'd keep to his hands, and the sharp objects they could hold.

The cold sweat that was starting to run down the twenty five year old man made him want to shiver. But he held it back. Any moment of vulnerability could be his last. Poised to strike, he continued to count. No one new for sure the exact amount of time it took for a corpse to reanimate. It seemed like it varied from body to body, but Donny and Paul had been at it long enough to narrow it down to no less than three minutes, no longer than five. And it had been four now since Paul died. “I hate to be a pain in the ass, buddy, but could you hurry up and come back so I can kill you?” Donny grunted under his breath, before falling silent again. If it was even possible, he tensed up even more. He could hear the shuffling, the groans, the screams, and all the other signs that there were more zombies on there way. They must have heard him... Damn things could hear a pin drop a mile away. “Shit... Come on man...” Donny shifted. This had to be quick. Setting the freshly sharpened point of the machete right at the soft, fleshy par of the neck, just beneath the chin, the sandy blond man brace a knee against his old friends chest and held completely still.

But still Paul didn't move. The first thing that normally happened when someones body reanimated, was they twitched, almost violently. A muscle/nerve impulse. And then the hiss... The most godawful sound, animalistic, and unreal coming from a humans mouth. Somewhere between a breathless scream and a hiss of pain... The shuffling was starting to get closer. At least they weren't Runners. These were just Ferals. Only good for shuffling around and getting the scrapings that the other types of zombies left on the ground. Runners were the tricky ones. Fast as all hell, and unpredictable. Screamers were the most dangerous. They didn't really attack, but when they find a living person, the let out a piercing shriek to notify it's cronies where dinner is.

“Hell.... Come on Paul! I'm not gonna do this till you move!” Donny growled, baring down a little on the machete. The Ferals were only probably 10 yards away now, drawing in closer. There wasn't much more time left. Another 30 seconds, and he'd have to make a decision. Shaking his head, Donny blew some of the shaggy strands of his blood and sweat laden hair from his eyes, focusing. His eyes were burning, but he refused to blink. Ever second counted. “Dammit... You have 10 seconds Paul.” Just as he got the mans name out, he felt the corpse beneath him lurch in a sudden convulsion. His body was a zombie now. Just as Paul's mouth opened, revealing bloodied, slightly crooked teeth, Donny threw all of his weight down into the blade, feeling it slide through the skin with little effort. More blood spurted back at Donny, covering his hands dangerously. He didn't dare take them off the machete though. Not with Ferals surrounding him. Eight of them. Yanking at the metal blade, dislodging it from Paul's skull, the young man grunted with effort as he cleaved his old friends head from his shoulders, just for good measure. “Nothing personal guy...” He muttered, before jumping up to his feet. One zombie down, eight more to go......



Walking down the streets of the ghost town, Donny MacLehan felt drained. Before the apocalypse, he had been in college. He had wanted to be a teacher. Not a zombie killer. In fact, zombie movies made him squeamish before D-Day had happened. They still made his stomach turn, but out of disgust, rather than fear, now. To him, they were no better than over grown flesh eating rats. He'd laughed at silly movies like Shaun of the Dead, or the horribly made movies from the seventies and eighties, where the zombies looked like coked out rockstars with a little bit of slime on top. But he couldn't bring himself to think of them as funny anymore.

The day that it happened, that had been the worst day of his life.

The outbreak wasn't widespread, yet. No one knew for sure what was going on. Donny had finally gotten home from school, the traffic had been backed up horribly. Everything else had seemed normal though. At that point in time, he was 20 years old, and in his second year of college, getting his degree to teach. And he was living at home with his parents and his younger sister. His parents were both still at work, that much was a given, but he knew that Jennifer would be home from school by now. Parking his car at the curb in front of the house, Donny got out and jogged up to the front door, dropping his bag in the foyer once he'd gotten inside. “Hey! Jenny! You home?” He called out, looking around the living room and kitchen for the 11 year old. There was no answer. But the sliding glass door in the back was open.... Frowning, Donny walked closer to the kitchen. He could hear something out in the back yard.... “Jenny?” He called out again, walking around the counter. His shoes made a soft squeaking sound over the old linoleum. The sounds got louder, the closer he got to the open door. It sounded.... Like someone was playing with wet, raw meat. Feeling his stomach drop a little, the young man finally stepped out onto the back patio, and froze.

The first image he saw was one that would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. Jenny's face, eyes clouded over, mouth hanging open, muscles frozen into a look of panic, like she had died mid scream. She was covered in her own blood, a hand reaching out over her head as though grasping for help. It felt like hours that he stared, his hazel eyes wide as they stared into her lifeless ones. His blood had gone cold, and he trembled, despite the warm, black hoody that he wore. Finally, after what felt like forever, his attention was caught by something else. There was a person, kneeling over her body. The guys back was turned to Donny, so he couldn't see the mans face. All he could see was blood. Blood dripping down this sick bastards arms as the guy tore out Jennifer's intestines with his bare fingers, flinging them away from him. Donny took an instinctive step backwards, feeling a splatter of cold blood on his face, a long string of organs laying at his feet. “Oh my G-God...” He gasped out, suddenly feeling like his stomach was resting right under his neck.

He didn't have time to puke though. That single breathless exclamation caught the attention of the zombie that was currently gutting his sister. That was the first time he heard the sick shriek of the living dead, and it was far from the last he'd ever hear......


Breaking himself from his memories, Donny reprimanded himself quietly for letting his guard down like that. Every single moment was a battle to survive on Zombie Earth, and a waisted second was a second that could get you killed. Donny refused to become one of them. It was his job to kill them. Wiping Paul's blood off of his hands and onto the stained, faded denim that covered his legs, Donny stopped near a twice killed corpse nearby and knelt down to wipe the rest of the blood from his machete onto the shirt that the old woman wore. He felt no remorse for using the dead like this. Once they had died, and become zombies, his compassion for them disappeared entirely. “Thanks, gramma.” He muttered once he'd cleaned the blade enough to be satisfied, and got back up, returning to his original path. Sun was coming up, and he needed sleep. Though he doubted very much that he would get any that night.....

Wow, three entries in one day!

Thanks people.

All the entries are very good. I'll have to write one as a Zombie story does sound fun.

2 weeks to go.

I hope you've gotten at least one or two entries you like. :)
(I'm not hinting at my own or anything like that)

And there are nine entires! That's pretty awesome. Thanks for the challenge, Pearl!

I haven't read any of them yet. I want them all to be equally fresh in my mind for adequate comparison.
I come back from a short holiday on the 12th July, and then I'm at home and free until the 18th of August pretty much.

Which bodes well for quick results.

Anyway, I'm eager to finally give people my stuff. I wanted to on the 24th May but was loathe to give things away for free.
If I had some gold I'd probably give the non-winners a little something for participation.

This is so cool! Thank you for making this thread!

Zombie Kingdom

"Well," Annie said as she looked in to the empty can of instant-feed "That's the last of the people food." She tossed the can over her shoulder, and walked a few paces before she realized, the can never hit the ground. Grabbing her crossbow she turned, yep it was her worst fear, Other Survivors. Now don't get me wrong, Others can be a God-send, but most of the time they're just out for them-selves. "Y'all know that there's littering don't ya?" said the biggest, ugly one. Nope, defiantly not a Godsend. "What's it to y'all?" Annie said matching the southern draw He has.

"Pretty little things like you, shouldn't be out here all on your lonesome."
"Who says I'm alone?"
"Anyone can see that you are."
"I'm not."
"That a fact?"
"Yep there's Bob, Bob Sr. & Bob Jr."
"That there's a lot of Bobs."
"Over your head and behind you!"
"What-the-he..."

Annie gets one of her hand grenade, pulls the pin, throws it, and runs like hell home. BOOM! "...Brainnsss?" Well that got some ones' attention, didn't it? Now all any one can hear is the Dead's Chant, and the sound of them 'walking'. They're very inquisitive, ya-know all things considered, but the sound of them walking it, it's horrible, just horrible. They say, if you listen to it for too long, you'll go insane. But that's just old wives' tails, come on, passed the barracks, beyond the traps, up the stairs, past all the false doors and walls, to the rooftop garden, and in the middle a big, old tent(for posterity ya see). "Annie!" shouts Voletta
"What the hell? You went out for more supplies, not to blow everything to smithereens!"
"I know it looks bad but I had a very good reason, to..."
"I. DON"T. CARE! How are we going to get food now, with Them out there?"
"There were Others."
"Oh, oh god did they..."
"No I got 'em."
"Sorry."
"That's okay, it's nice to see how much you trust me after all this time."
"Don't start that again! I said I'm sorry."
"I forgive you. We'll just have to sacrifice the tomatoes, in a few days the Dead will be gone, and we haven't hit the Hotel yet."

Annie and Voletta looked at each other, then at the Davis Hotel. That hotel was the place to be, and a 10,000 Chipps a night, it should be, but when the Invasion happened all the rich and famous fled. Annie was working as a hostess in the High-Top Restraint. She was happy...

"Justice."
"What?"
"It's just us, you'd need like, five more people to get in."
"oh, have you meet Bob, Bob Sr., Bob Jr., Bobby, and Robert?"
"Ya know, sometimes I hate you?"
"Ha, right back at ya 'Etta!"

Annie and Voletta ran over to the "Big Bad Box", that's were they kept the ammo, and all sorts of other goodies. Annie got the grenade-launcher & the "Huge Bags", and Voletta grabbed the grenades and some grappling hooks, off they ran along the roof tops, to the Davis Hotel. Setting up the launcher was the easy part, getting in and home again, well that would be more difficult. See the Dead are smart...ish, some of Them can see, and others not so much. But all of Them can hear, they will know where the launcher is and any "running away" noises will leaded Them to home, so quick and quiet is the way to go. "Launcher ready & waiting, Mon Capitaine" said Annie, "Fire!" bellowed Voletta.
BABOOM, BABOOM, BOOM!

The sound echoed though the city. Voletta got the hook to catch on the first try. They tide the rope off and climbed across.

"Well this isn't too bad, I thought there'd be way more security."
"Nope, the power's out and the emergency generator was never turned on."
"How do you know that, Annie?"
"I used to work here, in the up-stairs restraint."
"Oh. Well then, lead the way."

As they walked they saw the "Wall of Fame", they climbed up the stairs, there it was: the High-Top Restraint, the highest quality cuisine on the planet. As they packed the six pound cans of instant-feed, a shadow passed over them unnoticed. "What about the fresh fruit?" drooled Voletta "It's been two years, with no power, how 'fresh' do you think it's going to be?" asked Annie. Out-side the Dead kept coming to the blast area, looking for food, if they could expect anything they defiantly wouldn't expect to see the doors on the Davis Hotel to open, Annie was done packing & Voletta was still looking for something, anything other than Instant-Feed.
Clank.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
Clang!
"That!"
"Don't know."
"Let's get out of here."
"Why there's no power, and They can't get in any more than we could?"
"I still think we need to leave."

"Okay" Voletta said begrudgingly. As they walked they heard a familiar, all be it horrifying sound"Brains?" "Shit! Where is it!" Looking around in the darkness was one thing, looking for the Dead in the dark was terrifying.
"There behind the counter!"
"I can't see it!" said Annie as she grabbed her crossbow.
"It's moving to your left!"
"Okay..."
"Shoot!"
Twang!
"You missed!"
"You said left!"
"I said your left!"
"That is my left!"
"Shit! Okay, numbers on a clock..."
"Hurry!" Annie said as she reloaded the cross-bow.
"Shut up! Twelve, one, two, three, two o'clock!"
Twang!
"You got it!"
"Now can we get out of here?" Moving as quickly and quietly as they could, they climbed the rope back, walked across the rooftops, checking the locks on the rooftop doors as they went."That was sloppy." said Annie "I know, you like, totally missed that deadhead." "Ya know I can hit you from here right?" Annie growled "We should have swept the area FIRST, than got the food." "Sorry." As she unpacked the cans Voletta noticed, something that wasn't food,"What the hell is this?" "Let me see. It's a... jar full of eyes? Ewww!" "Why would that be in the High Top?" "Better question; Who put it there?" "Should I trash it?" As Voletta asked, all the eyes spun to look at her, she of coarse screamed."Just toss it!" As the Eye Jar fell over the ledge, the eyes spun and spun as if they were looking for a way to stop falling. As creepy as that was, the Dead picked(almost lovingly) up the individual eyes, some Dead replaced their eyes, others just carried them. "Let's go back and get the rest of the cans." Voletta nodded, they walked like two women on death row. "Oh, NO that's not possible! " Looking across to the Hotel, to the girls horror they saw the entire floor was packed with Dead. "I guess we'll just have to wait."
and so will you!

The End, sort of.