Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

Laugh. Smile. Cry. Grieve.

3 posts in this topic

Recommended Posts

Oh... Mon cherie, I think our plan will soon be ready to blast this story straight into Dantes Hell. The circuit is almost complete, we just need one more place to visit and we will end this... Soon. Ready your mouth because we will enjoy ourselves tonight with some quality condensed milk. I think you can guess where we`re heading: That nice cafe in the center, where people used to go under the clichee pretext of a date just to dirtly interact with eachothers mind. I never stood that...  Socialising garbage. Finding interest into another person is like trying to improve yourself because you`re considering that you are good enough and need assistance. Mon Dieu, non! C`est merdre, mon cherie, pure merdre. I actually am glad of the actual sittuation of the world, because this way we got rid of those soul deprecating, time wasting medias like Facebook. Now I can enjoy reading my novel without having 50 bastards tell me they`ve read that in their past too like they understood it. Nobody understood, nobody understands and nobody will never understand the depth of the Universe in few bilions words. I hope that once we win this, we get to have fun with the spoils of the war; I still enjoy doing le toilette de certaines filles, either dead or alive, after all, I used to work as a cosmetician. I like especially the young and fresh dead ones, because they lack the oposition strenght of an alive person and the grade of decay of a dead person, so I take it as a win-win sittuation: I get to do what I like and they get to look as I like.

.

.

.

(heavy breathing and running noises with the slam of a door in the end)

What the hell was that thing!?!? It seemed to hunt us from the very first chapter of this story! Alice is dead, but atleast she left me the detonator. I need to get into that toilet and leave this town vite comme un lapin! 

(door break noises and sudden silence)

(heavy boots walking in the room noises, among some chains rattling)

(the silence intensifies again)

(sounds of wooden furniture breaking under the hit of something metallic and a male screaming and swearing in french)

(more running and a lot of windows breaking, zombie moans are audible, and are a lot)

If I am going to go, I will go with an explosion! 

(clicking noises)

What?!? Why it wont wor...

(door breaks, zombie moans and a male screaming in pain)

.

.

.

This is Sgt. Andrew reporting again from the local coffe shop. The place is devastated, but the difference between the devastation from this store and the general devastation is the fact that it wasn`t made by the virus carriers, but it most certainly has a living origin. It seems that several persons held a fight here, as I can see a lot of exotic knifes trhown all around the place, the furniture seems to have been chopped off by some very sharp and precise blades and I can also report the use of improvised electronic weapons such as a home made flame projectile launcher sittuated at the tip of a long pole, an improvised tazer and an battery acid water pistol. I report the pressence of two corpses, an IDless heavily armored beheaded female and a devoured tall male, under the name of Jacques Couchy. It seems like they were the organised group that intended to detonate the town, but somehow, somebody managed to cut off all the fuel alimentation just around this place so that they could not accomplish their plan, as if that person knew way in advance of their intentions. I also noticed when I was patrolling Raccoon street number 14 the presence of an impaled person, but in the branch of a very tall tree. Maybe there is a new pressence in the town, the one of an executor. Have you sent help and could not announce me? I look forward to meeting that person.

-Transmission ended-

 

_________________________

I am back after a long hiatus as my health has recovered totally and I can write almost the same way as I used to before. I want this small story to end, but not soon. I am a writer. I am legion. Expect me.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
On ‎11‎.‎12‎.‎2016 at 11:42 PM, hunger john said:

immersion broken

Tru dat, I forgot I am somewhere around 1980. Meh... I guess I will follow up from now on a more 80ish atmosphere.

________________

 

My leg still hurts because of the bullet, but my spirit is still strong. I used to be a secretary, or the eye candy of everybody in the office to be more precise. I always felt a strong repulsion against men that live in the vanity of unculture. All my coworkers did was complimenting the size of my breasts and laugh at the color of my hair. Then, I got forced into this stupid genocide called ”The Game” by  them. It isn`t like I had any choice. I never understood the manic obsession of our CEO of forcing us to go into military boot camps trainings until the day everything changed. I guess in the end it really helped losing track of my favorite shows and books reading time during the holidays. I never felt thrilled of the massacre we caused. Then, I met him in that cold day of December, dancing through the bloody rain made by the corpses he incapacitated in one blow with his bat. I fell in love with him and he fell in love with my mind. But his mind and soul were ill, and he betrayed me. He shot me and left me as bait for the same walking corpses we stood together against. But I was strong. I left the house with an explosion and survived. I cant run the way I used to, but I still got ahold of the blade he left me with. You may say that he wanted to give me a chance to live, but I think he just wanted me to struggle in desperation for living, and... He managed it. I don't know where he is and I don't know anymore who he is, but I will find him and kill him, then win that childish Game so I can get out of this. They tried to run away but got hunted down, I will outsmart them.

.

.

.

I met the black swordsman. He lost me, but it wont last. If it wasnt for this leg, I could be equal to Him. I managed to hit him once, but his leather jacket somehow protected him, but it dropped a small logo in the shape of a Cross and two letters: K and S. I have no ideea what it could mean and I am too annoyed by the rattling chains noise he makes to think of a meaning. I never felt fear and I wont feel now.

.

.

.

-fuzzy voices that seem to shout a prayer in latin-

You won`t get me that easily! You have better equipment and you are faster. But I am smarter.

-a female laugh-

-swords clashing noises followed by a female battlecry-

-a car crashes and an explosion is heard, drawing zombies moans to the location-

-transmission ends overhelmed by the moans of zombies-

.

.

.

This is Sgt. Andr.... Oh, screw this! I`m done with the formalities. If anyone anywhere is listening to this frequence, I need somebody to help me. I am tired of having to enlist horror sceneries without being able to help in creating the possibility of preventing them to happen! I found a recently crashed car at the southern entrance of Muldraugh. What is special about this crashing is the fact that somebody impaled the door with a very thick blade and left it there. I managed to extinguish the fire and retrieve the blade, but what is weird is that there is no hilt left. It looks like a well crafted german quality medieval sword, but with the addition of a couple holes at one end. Maybe it is detachable? Anyway, it is something strange. I also found two letters wrote on the ground with blood, among with the symbol of a cross. ”KS”. Somebody is trying to tell me something, but what? Things seem to connect, slowly but sure. This mistery will not last unsolved. I lost contact with the military base so I wont receive any support from my superiors and therefore I wish to send a distress call to everybody who is listening to me at this moment: Help.

-transmission ended-

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites