Writing a short story on the theme of The End of The World. I decided to go with a topic that hasn't really been used in movies or novels. I'm not amazing when it comes to editing my work, so I'd really love the help. This is NOT FINISHED, nor is the scene at the ending. I will add more very shortly.
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I always considered how the world might end, even when I scoffed at the idea; a zombie apocalypse, meteor shower, weather shifting or even an alien invasion. A nuclear explosion or third world war, a contagion, communism or government downfalls- something beyond just logical. Perhaps an idea that was never sought out by the movies or written as a popular novel. If the world was going to end, I wanted it to be in a way we never saw coming.
And that’s just how it happened. It started with an experiment; a biological chemical created to end an enemy population with just three drops into their water source. Testing took place in isolated areas, and the results were beyond anything any scientist could have imagined. What started out the beginning of a new world came to end it, and civilization would never be the same. Only those who started the chemical know how it came to spread through our world, but everyone has their assumptions.
This wasn’t just any chemical- it was created to wipe out whole nations, after all. It came with a price, and that price was a deadly infection that could kill a man in three days time, leaving them with a flesh-eating virus and pained convulsions that refused to cease until they were no more than unmoving bodies. I was only nine when the chemical break-out began, but the memories will forever stay with me until the day I leave this dying planet.
So when civilization was questioned and the apocalypse gripped each and every nation we had ever come to know, I asked myself: Who am I? And the answer was simple. I was a survivor.
* * *
I shot up from my sleeping position, a sharp gasp escaping my pale lips as images of blood and rotted flesh frazzled my mind. Shivers ran up and down my spine like electricity; painful, and alarming, insecure, and responsive. It was just a dream, said a cooing voice, but I refused to relax back into my fragile state of sleep.
No madder how many times I woke up from the same nightmare, my response was always a pattern: Shoulders stiff, sweat beading my forehead and a sucky start to my day. It’s different when the terrible thought you dreamt of was falsely accused, but mine is reality. The events that took place in my subconscious every night were real as real can be, every fleck of detail raining down like painful shards that cut and sliced my skin until I was drowning in blood.
The dream was always the same: Running through the trees like a madman, basking in the sun and dancing through flaming corn fields of yellow and green, nothing to fear and nothing to stress. It was the calm before the storm, and even when I warned myself of the coming danger, I arrogantly ignored it.
The thunder roared. The trees died away and the crops withered; I could hear the people screaming, crying, begging for help, but there was nothing I could do. Their rotted bodies were covered in blood and little flesh, eaten away by the infamous agent chemical that had taken everyone I had ever come to know and love. The dream faded, leaving me utterly helpless and horrified, the sounds of despair echoing in my ears.
My eyes pricked with tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks and I shifted uncomfortably, dirty hands gripping the cement floor. I looked up, bathing in the surroundings I had come to grow so used to over the years; a massive bed chamber scattered with old, rusty cots and crowded with over ten sleeping bodies. My family. No—we aren’t related by blood, but our little group has practically grown up together since the apocalypse, which makes up pretty dang close.
Down the massive steel door and via the hallway is the main house of the facility. During the Cold War, the government built hundreds of secret underground facilities in the chances of a nuclear attack, and our home happens to be one of them. Running on a generator and stocked with canned food, water tanks and medical, we’ve been able to survive for four years.
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Thank you both for the comments, they both really helped.
My only problem is that the story has to be a certain length, so I've been scrambling to fit in the plot details without going overboard. As for line of her question, I incorporated it for the ending line of the story, but I am considering revising it.
Hiya Hiccup. Interesting read, I like it. Apocalypse is a very interesting and thought provoking subject and the more the merrier, even if it can be a tad depressing. I think the worst and scariest one it probably overpopulation under totalitarian, Orwellian governments but that's just me. Zombie is pretty bad ass and a close second favorite apocalypse.
Before I start, I'd like to say, at age fourteen, this is impressive. You demonstrate "showing, not telling" much earlier than I had (at sixteen) and you do so effectively. After the narrator wakes up, show what they're doing (crying, shifting, being scared instead of telling us "I was so scared"). Granted, you do this sometimes after telling us (actually the line that proceeds the proceeding parenthetical could cut out "leaving me utterly helpless and horrified" and still be effective) but that's alright. You write probably better than I did at fourteen in general and you have a lot of potential. Please, pursue something with this!
A few quips/gripes/critiques/things to say/things to point out/things that stuck out to me however.
That line at the end of the first paragraph: "So when civilization was questioned and the apocalypse gripped each and every nation we had ever come to know, I asked myself: Who am I? And the answer was simple. I was a survivor." I don't think this is really necessary. Obviously, the narrator is a survivor, otherwise they wouldn't be writing this/telling us this story. I think if you dropped the answer to this question, it'd be more effective. What is this character's role in a world of no one? Why bother being alive? What purpose is there? I believe this is a question that ought to be answered by the end of the story. Setting the whole story with a theme of self-discovery and a "Who am I" pretty much needs this, otherwise you have unresolved conflict, and conflict should be resolved in such a plot driven story that I know this could be.
Take it easy on the semi-colon, as zephion had actually told me. It's a cool looking punctuation mark, but use it lightly. Otherwise, it looks a little forced.
Just something to keep note of, a good writer can cut out a lot of BS in their writing easily. When you finish the whole short story, go through and decrease the word count by 100. If that was too easy, do it again and again until you're really thinking "What do I need and what do I not?" Every sentence and every word should be considered and reconsidered. Quality over quantity.
Best of luck!
Wow, cool idea. I can see some serious potential in this and I can't wait to see the rest, but there are a few things that need fixed.
First things first, the beginning is a bit quick, perhaps a little more detail or background would fit in here to pull it together.
Next the line,
And that’s just how it happened.
I don't actually think that there is anything wrong with this line, in fact I think it should stand alone. When I was reading it I sort of skipped over it the first time, not realizing just how cool it was. I would recommend making it it's own paragraph, even it is one sentence. It should have a much deeper impact.
Also, this line,
It was just a dream, said a cooing voice, but I refused to relax back into my fragile state of sleep.
After this you move on to describe the room and its occupants, but you never mention who said this, and they weren't seen as she looked over the room. Perhaps add someone (a motherly figure) who was hugging her or something.
Finally,
Running on a generator and stocked with canned food, water tanks and medical, we’ve been able to survive for four years.
Medical what? Medical supplies, medical aid, medical donuts? We don't know, we need another word in there to tie it together.
One again, great post, and I am looking forward to more!
This story could be going somewhere, and I love the idea. You obviously put a lot of thought into this.
First, when you said "and a sucky start to my day," it really took away from the story. When you use such a sophisticated vocabulary and then say sucky, it distracts from the story.
Second, I think you meant "which makes us pretty dang close," not "which makes up pretty dang close."
Finally, you put "medical." It needs something else, as zephion said.
The story is good and I'm excited for more.