'Screams, cries of terror and fear, gunfire, explosions. The world has ended and we are one of the few left to live in the shattered remains.' Was a quote I heard once from a man I thought was too crazy to know better. I didn't believe him at first, refused to. There was no reason for the world to end, no justification. His words felt heavy, like lead, as he uttered them. Each one heavier than the last until you felt suffocated at the end by the sheer weight of his proclamation. Was he wrong? Was he right? Even now, standing atop a charred, rusted remains of what used to be a luxury sedan, I still wonder on the truth of his words.
The world has ended and I am one of the few left behind as one of God's cruel jokes. The smell of ashes is thick in the air, though the fires have long since burned themselves out, leaving creaking, metal skeletons and black outlines upon the earth. My boots crushed bones beneath my feet, silent curses leaving my feet as I heard faint moans in the distance, hoping they did not hear me. Hoping they would not react, that they would remain blissfully unawares of my presence. I was so close, so close to finding out the truth of what started this hell. What brought about the end of the world as that beggar once so kindly imbued me with.
"Do you hear that?" One of the men behind me whispered fearfully. "Walkers."
"Yes," I growled from deep in my throat. "Now keep quiet before they hear us."
'Screams, cries of terror and fear, gunfire, explosions. The world has ended and we are one of the few left to live in the shattered remains.' Was a quote I heard once from a man I thought was too crazy to know better. I didn't believe him at first, refused to. There was no reason for the world to end, no justification. His words felt heavy, like lead, as he uttered them. Each one heavier than the last until you felt suffocated at the end by the sheer weight of his proclamation. Was he wrong? Was he right? Even now, standing atop a charred, rusted remains of what used to be a luxury sedan, I still wonder on the truth of his words.
The world has ended and I am one of the few left behind as one of God's cruel jokes. The smell of ashes is thick in the air, though the fires have long since burned themselves out, leaving creaking, metal skeletons and black outlines upon the earth. My boots crushed bones beneath my feet, silent curses leaving my feet as I heard faint moans in the distance, hoping they did not hear me. Hoping they would not react, that they would remain blissfully unawares of my presence. I was so close, so close to finding out the truth of what started this hell. What brought about the end of the world as that beggar once so kindly imbued me with.
"Do you hear that?" One of the men behind me whispered fearfully. "Walkers."
"Yes," I growled from deep in my throat. "Now keep quiet before they hear us."