Young Writers Society

I'm really sorry.

Okay, let's get this party started. I'll go make a DT.

Okay, DT here; topic67315.html

Natalie

I climbed up the narrow staircase. Each time my foot hit another step a loud creak echoed around the empty stairwell. I pulled my coat tighter around my body and reached into my pocket for my handgun when I reached the top of the stairs. There was a dark narrow hallway. I went to the first door on the right, gripping the handle of my gun tightly. I opened the door and walked inside, on the alert for anything out of the ordinary.

In the corner was a sad-looking twin bed that looked like it would fall apart at any moment. Other than that the room was unfurnished, except for a dirty blanket that was nothing but threads in the corner. Sitting on the bed was a middle-aged man with graying hair. He smiled when I came in. "Hey Nat." I relaxed and released my gun.

"Hi dad. How are you feeling?"

He grimaced. "My limbs feel like they could drop off at any minute."

"When do you think..." I trailed off.

He looked nervous. "I don't know hon. Any day now."

I swallowed. I didn't want this to happen. I had known my dad for my entire life. Confided in him. He had been there when the pressures of elementary school had weighed down on me. He had comforted me when my best friend fell to the zombie disease. And now...

I shivered. He saw my discomfort. "Nat, maybe it would be better if I just went into the city."

I shook my head violently. "You know that I'd follow you." I quickly changed the subject. "I managed to get my hands on some bread. It's not much, but it'll keep us alive another week or two." At least, it'll keep me alive...

He smiled. "That's my girl. Let's see."

I reached into one of the deep pockets of my jacket and pulled out a bag of wheat bread. I opened it and tossed him a slice. I ate the heel of the bread. We didn't let a single crumb go to waste.

My dad's eyes were distant. "It's going to happen tonight. I just know it." He looked at me. "Nat, I'm really really sorry for anything that happens, and I love you more than life."

***

I left the room again as the sun lowered itself below the horizon. My dad had insisted that I leave. He said that he didn't want me to see him as a zombie. He had told me to run.

The problem was, I didn't know where to run to.

I stood by the stairs for some time. Entering the city would be too dangerous. The only thing I could really do was wander the roads until I found someone or something of interest. It was dangerous, but my only choice.

Then the door swung open.

My hand went to my gun as I turned to face the door.

My father was standing there, but I didn’t recognize him for a moment. There was a crazy look in his eyes, almost animalistic. His skin had turned a dull green. He was looking at me like I was something to eat. He lunged at me and I leapt out of the way. I didn’t want to kill him.

***

Ten minutes later my machete slipped from my shaking fingers, landing on the ground with a clatter. There was a series of thumps as his head rolled down the stairs. Hot tears ran down my face. I couldn't believe it. I'd killed my own father...

I curled up on the floor and sank into a fitful sleep.

~Nova~

I crept through the old house, hoping no one was in here. I gripped my gun tightly, keeping low and against the wall. There wasn't any noise so far, but you could never be too sure. The windows and the doors were all boarded up, but the attic window had been left open, probably so they could get in and out, though it didn't look at though anyone had gotten back in. It was all clear so far as I snuck down the stairs. As I stepped down on one stair, a loud creak slit through the air, and it collapsed in, dragging me down with it. I sat there for a moment under the stairs, listening and looking around before I finally gave up. If there was anything, it would have been out by now.

I stood up, pain hitting my knee, but I didn't fall or sway. I was used to this kind of pain. Running, hiding, jumping off of very high things trying to escape them. I had been through it all, and I was sure I was going to end up dead from that one of these days.

Quit being a baby, I thought to myself. I rolled my eyes at the thought, smiling. This was the small talk we were reduced to?

Look who's being the baby. You can't find anything better to say than that?! I frowned, realizing how stupid I was talking to myself.

"Focus," I whispered, hearing something thump. I wondered what it was, but I knew that, if it wasn't human, it would be a zombie. I kicked the door open to the room I'd heard it in, but there was nothing. The whole house was empty, just like I'd thought. Time to loosen up. I headed to the kitchen where I'd seen it before. I wondered if these people had kept any food around here, but I doubted it.

When I opened the fridge, I gasped seeing a head. Who puts a head in the fridge?! I felt my stomach turn, but it was nothing. I slammed the fridge closed, afraid of what I'd find in the cabinets. Lucky me they had real food there, something to soothe my hunger.

Is it to late to join? I'll just post my profile now anyways.

Name: Jacy

Age: 17

Weapons: A dagger and a pistol.

Appearance: Like the pic except more of a mess. She has a scar on her shoulder, her hair is more shorter and messier, and she has a determined look in her eyes.


Insane: nope.

History: She's had a rough life. She's always been homeless. She made a living by stealing things. She doesn't know her real name, but goes by Jacy. Jacy was there when the first zombie attacked. With nothing else in life to do, she goes through the country, killing as much zombies as she can.

Personality: Jacy is a survivor. She learns how to control anything that is thrown at her. She has an iron will, whenever she's surrounded by zomies and the odds are against her then her motto is "Make it a game. See how many you can kill before you die." So far it's worked.

Up for love?: If you can get her to trust you, then sure.

Other: She has a dog. He's a border collie named Eben. They're a great team in fighting zombies.

> Why do story books always die when I join?<


Jacy~

I cautiously walked up to a house that looked like the least abandoned in the neighborhood. It didn't look as desperate as the other houses, which meant that most likely someone- or something- was living inside of it. If it was a human then they might share their lodging. If it was another zombie, no biggie, depending on how many there were, I would at it to my list of 74 slayed zombies, with luck. If my assumptions were wrong and nobody still lived in the house then hopefully they had left some food before they died.

I pulled open the door and whinced when it creaked loudly. Stepping lightly into the house, I tried not to make very much noise. Eben, my border collie, must have sensed my need to be quiet because he crouched down lower and stayed at my side.

As we explored the house I passed a kitchen and couldn't resist checking out the cabinets. Nothing. But I did see more signs of life, which was more evidence for my suspicion. Suddenly Eben growled deep in his throat and my fingers twined around my pistol. Eben was trained to hunt out zombies and when he found one this is what he acted like.

His noes was pointed at the other door way of the kitchen, I slowly crept towards it. When I got to it I pressed my back to the wall by the door and cocked the gun. Taking a deep breath, I stepped around the door frame and pointed my pistol. But nothing was there. I took a cautious step forward and almost stepped on a zombie head.
"Looks like someone got him first," I mumbled to myself. I glanced curiously up the stairs. "But who?" The two of us made our way up the stairs as quietly as we could, which wasn't very quiet considering how squeeky they were.

When we got to the top I had my gun ready as I peered into one of the bedrooms. In it was the body of the zombie... and a girl? She was curled up in a ball in one of the corners, and she slept with tearstained cheeks, like she'd been crying. She was about my age with red hair. I walked over to her and nudged her with my foot. She opened her eyes.


>I was thinking, GSP, that our characters could be friends. Because they're both the same age and stuff. What do you think?<