zombie story excerpt, written at three in the morning.

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zombie story excerpt, written at three in the morning.

Post by PiperC! on Sat Jun 26, 2010 11:22 pm

The fire crackled loudly in the air, but the warmth barely penetrated the chill. The man who sat still in the velvet armchair did not know the luxury. He sat in silence, except the tapping of his leather shoes on the plush carpet. Hush Hush Hush, they sounded, as if the only noise was desperate to quiet itself. Once more, the man glanced at his watch. In all honesty, his understanding of the situation was little. When to expect the package, he didn't know, but Wednesday was the window. Today was Wednesday. He shifted in his seat, leaned over, and placed his elbows on his knees. A sickness came over him. There was no time for idleness. Just as he thought of running, a tap on the window reverberated throughout the room, bold and eager. John turned to see a long, elegant face- handsome, but sunken and rain soaked- through the fog. He breathed a sigh of relief and stood to cross the room and receive his long awaited friend, but a faint creak stopped him cold. The house was empty, but the sound came from down the hall. Struck by fear of his time being up, he half-sat, half-stood, paralyzed, staring at the cracked door. A few, tense, moments later the door widened, ever so slightly, before banging open, causing him to jump. A girl came into the faint light, she was seizing, her legs jumping erratically, pushing her forward. Her jeans were slashed across the thigh and blood soaked, and she wasn't wearing a shirt, only a single yellowed gauze wrapped around her shoulders, pinning her, what looked like, broken arms. Sickly thin frame covered in scrapes, bruises and filth, wet curls matted to her makeup-smeared face, it was hard to believe she was ever beautiful. But John knew that she was. She inched closer and closer until coming to a stop just in front of the chair, Rolling her head up to stare at John with her grainy eyes, she frantically whispered "I'm here". A smile came over her mocking expression, knowing and demented, and she busted into evil cackles. John and his visitor, still outside the window, stood watching in pity and horror.

I think I go on with this. A plot is forming in my head and I think I will go crazy if I do not let it out. I need a creative outlet. Sad

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