AWKWARD ZOMBIE

ok

It's a little muddy. You can certainly clean up the grammar if you were to revise it. In fact, I implore you to do that, since you said it's an old piece.

WELL THEN, MAYBE I WILL, HOMO. I'LL CLEAN IT UP SO CLEAN.













SO CLEAN.

yay more story <3



for critique: elise's reaction to her father, and what happens, seems... too distant. her father hits her, and she just wonders where her brother is. It's so, passive. It seems unfitting. And, that she didn't notice her father was cut in half at first is bizarre, to me. The top half your father is gone and you don't notice? Everyone seems too passive to me.


hurr i'm sorry if i'm too harsh

No. You're right. Part of it is that I'm still not entirely sure what I want to do with the finer details of that scene, but you're right.

NICE PASSIVE VOICE, FAGGOT.

okay, good. just tell me if i'm out of line, okay?

FICE NASSIVE POICE, VAGGOT.

I edited it. What do you think of it now?

oh, i like that a lot better. it's good.

Yay! Wanna read the next bit?

of course~

Summary of Ch1 and Ch2.1: The Hunter was out doing his job, happened to take a nap in a quiet alley, and after being startled out of a strange dream, was awoken by a demon attacking. He quickly dispatched it. He was then approached by a woman named Vivian Redstone to retrieve an "assignment" from the Abandon (what they call our world).
Then, in the Abandon, Elise, an eighteen-year-old girl was having a family conflict when her brother came home, closely followed by a demon. They tried to run after Elise's father was the first one killed.

Ch.1 is on page 6, Ch 2.1 is on page 7.


CHAPTER TWO
(2.2)


Alright, here’s where I come back into the story. So, here I am, riding down some old highway just outside of this Podunk-little town. I see an old house and pull up into the driveway.

Yep. This is the place. I can smell the bloodshed, and Reaper’s humming with excitement. Now, what the hell is hiding in the Abandon that’s so daisies important?

I survey the damage as I approach what I’m assuming used to be the front wall of the living room. I can still hear something scrounging around. I calmly pull out another cigarette, find my matches, and swear when I accidentally burn my fingertips. Dammit, I hate when that happens! Anyway…

I see wreckage and blood everywhere. Hmm… maybe I shouldn’t have stopped for that extra pack of cigs along the way? Nah. That old man would be dead anyway. Moving on.

Down the blood-spattered hallway (man, these demons ought to work for a horror movie studio or something. This house looks just as cheesy as one of those sets), I see the body of a woman who I’m assuming is the wife of the guy back in the living room. Yikes.

Not much else going on anywhere. I check in all the rooms, until I hear a loud slam overhead. I go to the end of the hallway to find the attic ladder extended and the door open.

C’mon! Are you joking? Why are kids in the Abandon so freakin stupid? You don’t run upstairs where you’re trapped! You get outside! And sure enough, when I go upstairs, there’s a teenage girl surrounded by three and a half demons with no hope of escaping. Just freakin’ lovely.

Well, time to get to work.

I’m not even gonna bother hiding my Fire. Two of the demons run at me, only to have their faces shattered by The Law. The third demon manages to get rather close, so I shove The Law’s four barrels directly into its face and fire. Needless to say, it loses its head. I check around for anymore in the attic… all clear. Reaper makes quick work of the Hellfire.

As soon as the Breath passes, I look at the Abandon kid. It’s a girl who looks to be about twenty, and she’s holding an old iron fire poker like a makeshift sword, while guarding the body of who I’m guessing to be her brother.

Something about this kid don’t seem quite right as she squints her light-colored eyes at me. She makes me a bit uneasy--which is no simple task, mind you. And what the heck is she staring at me for?

“Duck,” she warns quietly, just before chucking the fire poker like a spear across the attic, right through where my head had been.

And right into the skull of a demon who had just entered the attic.

Oh yeah, I forgot about the one in the living room.

I raise my eyebrows and pull my mouth into a tiny O, as an expression of mild surprise. Wasn’t expecting that one. Although my suspicions about this girl are one step closer to being confirmed. I take a step back and look down the trapdoor to examine the girl’s handiwork. Not bad.

“Nice aim,” I complement before I can stop myself. Then I add, “And comin’ from me, that’s really somethin’!”

She does a little curtsy that’s dripping with sarcasm. “Thanks,” she says so graciously that it makes me want to puke. “You should see my aim when I have my glasses and can actually see.”

I catch Reaper’s warning just before I hear it myself. The singing of a Wraith. The countless jumbled notes and incomprehensible melodies that sound as though they’re being struck from metal echo around us, and through the brief moments of communication with Reaper, I pick up on her taste of the cold and empty chill where a Fire should be. The air becomes almost un-breathable in the dark, heavy hunger that the Wraith always suffer. But why would a Wraith be here? They only wake up to cause mayhem and destruction or to feed on what they find to be an especially rich Fire.

I think I know what my Assignment is.

And I really wish it wasn’t her.

But I suck it up anyway and grab the Assignment by the arm, sprinting toward the window--the nearest exit to open air. The sooner we get out of the confines of this house, the better. The Assignment, however seems to have a different idea as she reaches for the boy that she had been trying to protect. Dammit! This is not what I need right now! I try to pull her along, but she maintains a death grip on the boy’s arm, which is slowing me down substantially.

I get the feeling that the Assignment never gave a daisies about anyone except her brother. She looks up at me with those calm and cool grey eyes that give me the feeling they hide a much more violent nature, deep down. She is asking me, with no more emotion than if she were asking the time, if she can hold onto him for a little longer.

“He’s beyond saving.” That’s all that I need to say before she immediately and willingly lets go.

This one’s not much of a creature of hope. That will serve her well in the State. Hope just provides another opportunity for heartbreak.

I give up on hauling the Assignment by the arm. There’s no time to wait for her footsteps to follow. I wrap my arm around her waist and take off. At this point, I don’t even have time to open the window before jumping through. I crash through the glass, Assignment in tow, not bothering to worry about the shards raining down after me.

I dash to the bike, set the Assignment toward the back of the seat, and climb on while simultaneously starting the thing up. I briefly warn her to hold tightly onto something, as long as it’s not me, and then I take off, zero-to-sixty in two seconds, and up to a hundred and fifty in just three more. And I’m still accelerating.

I ask the Assignment to be my lookout, seeing as she appears to be remaining fairly level-headed in the current situation. However, since I’m the one who’s dealt with demons before, I will occasionally check back myself.

The Wraith plans to follow us clear to Edge. That’s obvious from the beginning. I can see the very edge of the Wraith’s miasma a ways behind us, and that’s all I ever want to see. I press the bike to go as fast as its mechanical limitations will allow, but it’s not fast enough. The Wraith is gaining on us, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it. I quit looking back and just go forward.

Finally, we reach the tunnel. A sense of relief fills me, but it’s quickly drowned out by the Wraith’s singing, clear as crystal, despite all of the other commotion.

Dammit! Where is the Seam? It should be here somewhere… There! Found it!

“It’s right behind us!” the Assignment hisses, leaning up close enough for me to hear her clearly and feel her breath at the unarmored side of my neck.

My first thought is that I’m impressed that she has the strength to talk and lean forward despite the speed. My second thought is that we can make it to the Seam before it will catch us.

“Relax, princess,” I shout an impatient assurance. “We c--”

“No!” She hisses. “I mean it’s right behind us.”

I realize that her breath is ice cold and her voice is pained. She can’t lean forward on her own anymore, so she grabs onto my shoulder for support. While she still has a very strong grip for a teenage girl from the Abandon, it’s nothing I couldn’t easily break with the flick of a wrist. Nothing like when she was clinging to her brother. And when I glance to my shoulder, the skin on her hand and clear up her forearm is bone-white. I glance a little further back to see the virtually indestructible paint at the rear of my bike decaying and peeling away from the metal, inside of the black breath of the Wraith. I start to look farther back, when the Assignment shouts at me to watch out.

I look forward to see the wall of the tunnel approaching at an unavoidable speed. I brace myself just before a the jarring impact.

First thing I saw.

Repost on cock muncher's request.



The last few muddy drips of loosely called “water” trickled down the drain as Chester stood behind the tissue-thin shower curtain. His feet were covered in the crumbs from his last cookie. This concerned him deeply. The shower was the designated area for cleaning; how could he use it properly in such a state? Of course, he usually would have taken much greater care, but his attention was elsewhere. Chester stared intently around the room, rifle at the ready in his other hand. It was sparse, even for a bathroom. There was a wash basin immaculate enough to conduct surgery with, a drug cabinet filled with alphabetised anti-stress pills (each bottle containing exactly ten pills) and a towel rack without any towels on it.

Chester concluded that the bathroom was safe enough for the time being, and emerged from behind the shower curtain. He was clumsily grasping the rifle in both hands now, having finished with the cookie. As he moved through the room, his eyes fell on the drug cabinet. The doctors had told him that he needed the pills to calm down. They clouded his mind from the truths of this world, and left him defenceless. They had been untouched for quite some time. Reaching the door, Chester braced himself. After counting to three, he kicked it open, and snapped his head violently around the main room of the apartment.

It was a barren room that at first glance seemed like an overlooked crime-scene. There were no photos. A pile of newspapers dating back one year dominated a corner, and in another was a broken black-and-white television. After poking through the newspapers with the tip of his rifle, Chester meekly snuck over some discarded books toward the centre of the room. There was a strange contraption propped up against the sole window of the apartment that wouldn’t have been out of place in an art-deco museum for post-apocalyptic objet d'art. It was a flimsy series of mirrors and boxes that he could use to watch the outside world without it watching him. The street below was more or less empty. It was the middle of the day, so most people were at school, or work. Standing sentry twelve stories above the city, Chester almost felt safe. Without much heavier fortifications, he knew he’d never be completely safe, but for the time being, he was content to make do.

“Chester.” He heard a voice behind him. “Rodney!” He exclaimed, clearly elated. Chester didn’t really know who (or what) Rodney was. He’d just been at home one day and had heard a voice introduce itself as Rodney. The first thing that it said was not to turn around; he’d never actually seen what it looked like. It said that if he turned around, it would leave, and never come back. Chester didn’t want that. “Why haven’t you been taking your pills, Chester?” He was still watching the streets through the mirrors. “Lonely.” He whispered softly, almost to himself. There was a woman walking down the street now, with a dog.”I know you like having me around Chester, but you should be taking you pills, even if it makes me go away. What did the doctors say?” He was still watching the woman and her dog walk down the street. They seemed... pop flyin'. Chester furrowed his brow at the mention of doctors. “Dangerous.” He muttered under his breath. “That’s right, Chester.” Rodney’s voice never had a clear direction. It seemed to come from everywhere, all at once. “They said that if you got too stressed out, you could start hallucinating, and maybe have a heart attack.” He had an oily, soothing voice. Chester always felt better when Rodney was around.

“Rodney.” He started. The rifle was starting to get incredibly heavy. “Yes Chester?” Replied the omnipresent voice. “Why?” The woman and her dog were gone, leaving Chester to stare blankly at the street once more. “Why what, Chester? I don’t follow your gist.” His eyes were very sad for a fraction of a second, before he scowled a little. “Subsist.” He said this with a trace of ire in his voice, as if he resented the suggestion. “Well, that’s question number one right there, isn’t it champ?” Rodney’s voice was getting progressively softer, as if it was more distant than before. “Why?” Chester repeated, a hint of hostility in the air. “You know, my dear friend, I’m not entirely sure.” Now the voice was closer, and much clearer. “You don’t have any family left, you systematically alienated all of your friends, and you got fired after that terrible misunderstanding with the police.” Chester’s was visibly sweating. The room was getting stuffy. “Government.” He whinged like a child. “Now Chester, I think we both know that your ideas about the Government are a little silly.” It almost sounded patronising. “Why would the Government care about your thoughts? I mean, look at what they’ve done to your apartment, much less your life.”

Chester’s grip on the rifle got harder. “Change?” He asked, hesitantly. “Oh Chester, I wouldn’t put much hope in that if I were you.” The voice was getting sterner. “Have you thought about how things are going to change for you? Soon enough, you aren’t going to be able to pay your rent, and then you’re going to be homeless Chester; out on the streets. That doesn’t sound like much fun, does it buddy?” Rodney was speaking in the same way most people would, given he was speaking to a man waving a rifle around talking about the government. “Cold.” Chester whispered mournfully, finally dropping his rifle to the floor. He grabbed his shoulders, cradling his torso “That’s right Chester, it would be very cold. You’d probably run out of food, too, and I doubt you’d be able to pay the nice doctors for more pills.” Chester stood in front of the window. He hadn’t been outside in the longest time.

“It’s a little cramped in here, don’t you think pal? Why don’t you open the window there and let some fresh air in?” He pried the window open for the first time that he could remember. Air rushed in through the apartment, expelling the collective scent of paranoia. The streets looked inviting from the window. “Rodney.” He sounded pleading. “It’s mighty high up here, isn’t it?” Chester winced, still staring below. “Tired.” He sighed, seeping fatigue. “You know, I’m pretty tired too Chester.” He stood in silence, the wind clearing his mind. Rodney spoke again. “I think I just might have a solution for all of our little problems, Chester my friend. You won’t have to worry about pills, the Government, cleaning the wash basin, or me leaving. It’ll all go away.” Chester almost turned around in glee, but he wanted to hear Rodney’s answer. “Please!” He begged, desperate for any help he could get. The voice sounded very close now, almost inside his head. “One little step, old friend. Just one little step forwards.” Chester was trembling. “Heights.” He told the voice. “Trust me, Chester. One little step out of that window, and all of our problems will just melt away with the wind. Would I lie to you?” He shook his head furiously. “Friend.” He spoke to the air rushing through the window. “That’s right Chester. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. Now, just step over that window, and it’ll all be over.” Rodney’s voice was overly cheery. Chester didn’t care anymore. He was tired, so daisies tired. Climbing over the window, he stared at the street below. It looked like it was smiling at him, beckoning him forward. Chester took that one little step out into the void, and hoped that wherever he was going, Rodney was coming with him.