» Thu Apr 25, 2013 12:07 pm Here's one I wrote earlier this year.
The Survivor
Spoiler
Seven of them. Four male, two female, and one little girl. I recognize the girl, even in a rundown Walmart with rain pouring in through the rusted holes I recognize her. Her name is.....was Amelia but now she's just another monster aimlessly walking hungering for flesh. I tracked the group for three days through a hurricane....I doubted she was alive but....I....I..needed to see for myself. I start unzipping my faded green duffle bag, inside is my rifle, an old .308. The rough spots on the stock having been molded over the course of many years, and through much use. I remember the day she....we found it lying in the corner of a pawn shop. We were so happy I took the risk and we went to the old park now rusty and abandoned like everything else. She went on the swings and I pushed her, "higher daddy! Higher!" she said. But that was two years ago...
Seven of them, four male, two female , and one little girl. The problem is, I only have three bullets...and these are the six I see, a building this large, in the center of town....forty or more. I know I'm not leaving without sending her peace.....and I may not leave here alive. I pull the stock of the rifle to my shoulder , level the sight to Amelia's head, and with hot tears in my eyes......pull the trigger.
I miss. The infected rush foward at the sound with two dozen coming from the gardening section....I find Amelia and level the sight again. Inhale. Exhale. Fire. I say the final goodbye to my little girl, just one of the many who are victims of this plague. More come and I'm running...running in the freezing rain....running away. With tears stinging my cheeks I see eight more surrounding my car, I turn, my heart pumping. My breaths are short and jagged, followed by the rain, and the wails of the damned.
I take shelter in an old house shutting the door behind me I barricade it with a dresser. They'll be in soon, they're already clawing at the door........my mind wanders to the bullet still in my rifle. I do the only thing I can muster, I cry. I cry for Amelia, I cry for her mother, my family, the world, and myself. I raise my rifle and embrace it...it tastes of rust...I'm coming Amelia.....and I pull the trigger.
Seven of them. Four male, two female, and one little girl. I recognize the girl, even in a rundown Walmart with rain pouring in through the rusted holes I recognize her. Her name is.....was Amelia but now she's just another monster aimlessly walking hungering for flesh. I tracked the group for three days through a hurricane....I doubted she was alive but....I....I..needed to see for myself. I start unzipping my faded green duffle bag, inside is my rifle, an old .308. The rough spots on the stock having been molded over the course of many years, and through much use. I remember the day she....we found it lying in the corner of a pawn shop. We were so happy I took the risk and we went to the old park now rusty and abandoned like everything else. She went on the swings and I pushed her, "higher daddy! Higher!" she said. But that was two years ago...
Seven of them, four male, two female , and one little girl. The problem is, I only have three bullets...and these are the six I see, a building this large, in the center of town....forty or more. I know I'm not leaving without sending her peace.....and I may not leave here alive. I pull the stock of the rifle to my shoulder , level the sight to Amelia's head, and with hot tears in my eyes......pull the trigger.
I miss. The infected rush foward at the sound with two dozen coming from the gardening section....I find Amelia and level the sight again. Inhale. Exhale. Fire. I say the final goodbye to my little girl, just one of the many who are victims of this plague. More come and I'm running...running in the freezing rain....running away. With tears stinging my cheeks I see eight more surrounding my car, I turn, my heart pumping. My breaths are short and jagged, followed by the rain, and the wails of the damned.
I take shelter in an old house shutting the door behind me I barricade it with a dresser. They'll be in soon, they're already clawing at the door........my mind wanders to the bullet still in my rifle. I do the only thing I can muster, I cry. I cry for Amelia, I cry for her mother, my family, the world, and myself. I raise my rifle and embrace it...it tastes of rust...I'm coming Amelia.....and I pull the trigger.
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