--June 28, 2016--

Journal Entry #45
It's been about 30 days since the incident. Since those things have completely overrun everything. I've lost a lot of people. I've been writing in this journal each day for the past 20 days, just in case anyone finds this, and know what I've been through. There were originally 10 people in my group, but one by one, the numbers have declined, until I was left alone. I haven't seen any other people, but I haven't seen any of those things, either. For right now, I have taken refugee in a small abandoned town. It must have been overrun by those damn hellish creatures. I will sleep here for the night, it seems safe enough. I will update tomorrow. ----


The man closed his journal and stored it in his backpack. He looked around the small, abandoned house. There were blood stains on the window curtains, and there was a long trail of blood, ending at the entrance of the house's kitchen. He was disgusted at how humanity changed so much, too fast. He searched around for any supplies and or food to get him through the night.

" I guess some other people ransacked the place during all the chaos."

He went upstairs, to investigate some more. He went through all the rooms and saw nothing useful, but then came across a locked one. He kicked it down, and a terrible smell emitted from the room. He was appalled at what he saw. There was a blood-filled bathtub and a corpse. It was clear that this man committed suicide, as evident by the big chunk of flesh missing from his head. There was a shotgun and note right next to the sink. Parts of the note were covered in blood.

-----
My wife, my children, are all gone. I don't see any reason in living anymore. It's time to put my life in the lord's hands now. I can hear those demons trying to get in the house. If anyone were to find this letter, take whatever you can from my house. I'd encourage you to take your life and put it in the lord's hands as well, but if you do not, feel free to help yourselves to my home. Good luck....
-----

The man took the shotgun and extra rounds of shotgun shells. He went back downstairs. He then heard some sounds coming from the kitchen. He peeked and saw one of those things crawling around.

"Damn, it must have heard me kick the door down. I can't shoot it, it would attract more."

He saw an army knife right next to the creature. The man knew he had turned insane. These were once people, but now they're just flesh-craving monsters. He still hasn't made that transition from his old views to this new world's. He ran and grabbed the knife, the creature slowly limped towards him, making slurping noises. The man kept his cool and stabbed it in the head, causing it to go down. He put the knife in his backpack. He also saw an ax and took it.
He stood in the middle of the abandoned neighborhood, which once held laughing children having fun and families working around their homes. He looked to the sky, the view panned out showing the entire town in view. The creatures surrounding the outskirts of the small town.

End of prologue.


A story I decided to make. I really got into it and am excited to continue writing more and stuff. Tell me if it's any good or if it sucks, your opinion really matters to me.

Well, it was not bad. Apparently, it's a post-apocalypse story, with zombies.

I don't particularly like zombies, but anyway.

I gotta ask, is this your first attempt at story-writing?
If it was, you did pretty good. There are some minor mistakes, which mostly have to do with the background.

If I were you, I'd try to add more detail into this story. Add more to the house the man is in, put more expressions in his face, alter his attitude, do more things.

But, overal, it was a good first try.

Keep up the good work!
~ RV

_________________
"Killing for yourself is murder.
Killing for your country is heroic.
Killing for entertainment is harmless."
~Spec Ops: The Line

"It takes a strong man to deny what's right in front of him."
~Colonel John Konrad, Spec Ops: The Line

Needed more gore and survivalistic dehumanizing contrasted with cowardly suicidal ¿humanizing?

I just made up a new word.

But hey the writing itself wasn't bad. Just free your mind and write what you need to, not what you want to.

_________________

Fight the monster, become the monster.

Nah, the gore's not all that important. What's more important is the feeling the story gives you while you read it.

But I'll agree on humanizing (hooray for new word!).

_________________
"Killing for yourself is murder.
Killing for your country is heroic.
Killing for entertainment is harmless."
~Spec Ops: The Line

"It takes a strong man to deny what's right in front of him."
~Colonel John Konrad, Spec Ops: The Line

Chapter 1
--June 29, 2016--

He kept on walking around, scavenging each house, trying to salvage anything he can. His sanity has deteriorated to the point where he is paranoid of anything he hears. He tries to pull himself together, knowing that there might be survivors somewhere. If it wasn't here, then it'd be in the next town, and if it wasn't there, then he'd keep searching for a safe haven, away from this "hell on earth". He sat down, to write his newest entry.

Journal Entry #46
I am very hungry. I haven't eaten in 3 days, and I'm almost out of water. My physical and mental health is being diminished. I won't quit, I will find survivors, I will find a place to call 'home'. I will stick to the roads once I leave this town, there will be a better chance of finding other people there.----

He scurried around for a few more hours, having no luck whatsoever.

"And to think there'd probably be one home that would have supplies. Either the people took their things and left or a big group came and cleaned up the place."

After a few more hours, he still had no luck, he lost his energy. The man got a bit dizzy, and walked very slowly. His eyesight started to get a bit blurry, and he saw some figures limping in the distance going towards him. He started to panic and tried to run as fast as he can, he fell after running a couple of meters. He took out his shotgun and shot away. He shot one of the creatures in the arm, blowing it off. It still kept on walking. He kept on shooting, not being able to get them down.

"Damm...it..."

He passed out soon after.

----------------
"Jon! You gotta get to the other side, now!" A voice yelled out.

Jon jumped over the fence as the creatures were overrunning his friend. He could hear the others yelling at him to get in the car. He was resistant, wanting to save his friend. As thirty or plus of those things closed in on him, he ran out of ammo. Jon was terrified, seeing his friend being ripped apart by those things. He was angry yet sorrowful at the same time.

"You @#$% idiot! Get in the damn car!" someone from the group yelled to him.

He ran to the car and jumped in, the creatures barely pushing the fence down. They barely got away. Jon looked back, regretting not saving his close friend.
----------------
"Hey buddy, are you alive?"

Jon woke up, confused. He looked around, he was in a room, it was boarded and dimly lit. He wanted to question the other man, but for now he was glad he met another human being and not met with those hell spawns.

"Who are you?" Jon asked.

"I saved your life from those damn flesh-eaters and first thing I get replied with is a 'who are you', where's the gratitude, buddy?" The mystery man asked.

"Man, I'm so tired. Oh sorry, thanks, I thought I would have been killed back there. Where are we? Also, I didn't quite get your name."

"Names are just a trivial thing in this world, call me Hunter. Also, we're at the middle of this town, we're gonna lay down until those flesh-eaters migrate away." He replied.

"Alright, nice to meet you, Hunter. Do you know if there's any other survivors? I haven't seen any other people for a long time."

"I used to have two other guys serving by my side, just trying to survive. I lost them during a trip to a super-market for supplies. We were overrun and they were both surrounded. It was either me or them. Going back would have been suicide. I had to do what I had to do." Hunter replied to Jon in a serious tone.

"I see. I used to have a group of 10, but we went through so much, we either left some behind due to last minute decisions or they were killed by those things or decided to take their lives. In the end, I was the only one left."

The two waited till the flesh-eaters passed by their safe house. They put together any materials they had. Deciding it would be best to go together. Hunter and Jon decided to rest for the night. Jon had a lot of trouble sleeping, he was just haunted by all the deaths of his group, and how he let them down by not getting them to somewhere alive. Night passed and dawn arrived.

"Alright, buddy. We're going to find the nearest gas station and fill up these gas tanks that way we're good to go for a while, got it?"

Jon nodded and they drove away in his truck. There were no creatures in sight, so they approached the station with ease. He felt uneasy about Hunter, though, thinking if he could trust him or not. Hunter started to fill up the tanks while Jon kept look-out. Jon spotted a lone flesh-eater by itself a few meters away from them. Jon worryingly looked to Hunter, and he just brushed it off and told him to stab it in the head. Jon hesitated to do so and Hunter just walked to the walker and knocked it down, then stepped on his head, killing it. Jon was surprised at how easily Hunter could do this. It made him wonder if this is what a world in this kind of state would do to a person. Jon looked into the distance, alarmed.

"Uhh...Hunter, there's a mob of those things coming right for us. I think you should hurry the hell up."

''Don't get your panties in a bunch, buddy. Jeez, I should have gotten some tampons for you, too." He jokingly said while putting the tanks in the back of the truck.

"This is serious, you idiot, get in the truck, now!"

Hunter started up the ignition and they barely drove away, Jon breathing a sigh of relief. He looks outside the window, wondering what's in store for him now.