Comments | welt18: Zombie Story Reborn

welt18

Zombie Story Reborn

Mar 18, 2007 22:43

March 18th, 2007

Nearly a year has passed since my last journal entry. The zombie herds have consumed the vast majority of the population, converting them like Mormons, against thier will. Our whole group has survived, save Sarrah and Ellen. Thier loss was tragic, but our minds conquered our hearts and our will to survive outweighed our love for ( Read more... )

Comments 88

03.19.2007 -- 7:38 AM arandomhoboyo March 19 2007, 15:51:40 UTC

My eyes open up wide. Sunrise ( ... )

03.19.2007 -- 7:38 AM arandomhoboyo March 19 2007, 15:53:21 UTC

I slide my combat knife back into its sheathe located on my left arm. I can't really remember when drawing my blade became an automatic reflex to waking up. Layla is her name. She's saved me more than a few times when I thought I was done for. In times like these, when entertainment is non-existent, people find the strangest ways to get kicks out of anything they can. It's a key to not losing your insanity. One such method of keeping my sanity is giving names to my trusted weapons. Hey, why not? You always refer to your best friends by name anyway ( ... )

welt18 March 19 2007, 21:56:36 UTC

The best thing about Arash is that I know he is sincere. I can trust him like a brother, and to this date he has not let me down. If it weren't for him I would probably have been turned already, and if I did turn, I know he would be the first one to end it. My soul would thank him for that.

As I finish my Marlboro, the slight gleam of sunlight peeks over the horizon, allowing a caution sign orange to reflect off the clouds.

"Day break", I say to Arash, "We should probably get everyone up."

Arash's eyelids look heavy, but the eyes peering out from beneath, determined. His thick dark hair is held back in a bloodstained bandana. Our portraits have become so similar over the past year, our features are like that of brothers. We each have a beard groomed via hunting knife and the dirt on our faces masks our true pigment. Our hands-on "experience" with the undead has hardened and chizzled us into military-esque stature ( ... )

03.19.2007 -- 8:53 AM arandomhoboyo March 20 2007, 00:47:05 UTC

New Mexico. The state of the roadrunner. I mused in my head at the fact that it is our jeep now that is the roadrunner, and that the zombies represent Wile E. Coyote, slow but patient, waiting for the perfect moment to spring a trap upon us. The coffee is starting to give me just the right jolt of energy that I need. I can see that it's waking up my fellow comrades as well ( ... )

03.19.2007 -- 8:53 AM arandomhoboyo March 20 2007, 00:47:53 UTC

I look back down to examine the .45 in my lap. It had once been used to send the zombified corpse of my sister back to Hell. So, I found it fitting to name her Nilou. Who knows, maybe angels do exist, and the spirit of my sister guides the bullets out of the barrel towards every zombie that wants to take my life. Heh... yeah, maybe I'm a Chinese jet pilot too ( ... )