England Apocalypse [not really]

kold_as_ice92

New member
I could smell fire and ash everywhere i went. The horrific sounds of people crying tears of blood as mutants bludgeoned them with axes and various weapons, rusted from the rain.

I'm the last member of my team. Every last one of them--slaughtered before my glassy eyes. England should have never become this hell. I shouldn't have hidden from the zombie-warriors. I should have helped my team--but I didn't. I witnessed them all die slowly and then get chewed down to the bone by the blood-thirsty zombies.

The sweat runs into my eyes and stings like a kick in the nuts. Fire crackles like popcorn from all sides. All sound is gone but the fire now. What's going on here? I proceed to step across the cobblestone ruins of Liverpool. Then sound breaks. Chainsaws start buzzing like the swarm of a thousand bumble bees, but I'm entirely unsure of how many there are and where. Feeling the icey barrel of my shotgun, I remove it from the holster on my back and cock it. The shell drops, but I can't hear it hit the ground. My eyebrows narrow, I slowly walk across a destroyed hall in the open areas we onced called the United Kingdom. I look around at the rooftop corners, checking for enemies. The chainsaw sounds rev-up and I can barely hear myself think. Pacing left and right in continuous circles, no enemies can be seen. The chainsaw noises get closer and closer! I panic so much I'm shaking like an epileptic child. Fear strikes my heart and my intestines tie-up like shoe-laces! I start spinning in circles! My mind is running wild! I can't think straight and im sweating from every pore known to man.

Out of the open doorway bursts some zombified man wielding a chainsaw, armor and all. It rushes toward me with a sinister look on its face like it's out from blood. Only one thing pertains to mind right now: Shotgun Time. His head spatters and turns into a gooey splash of dark-yellow juices. The zombie-soldier drops to the ground, the chainsaw still shaking. It rattles around on the cobblestone surface as another mutant with a chainsaw-machine-gun mechanism like the ones I saw afew weeks back with the crew. This guy has the same insignia on his flack-jacket as the group we were associated with. I put one in his stomach. He slips past me, screaming like demons from the bowels of hell. It falls down, landing on the chainsaw on the ground. The zombie shakes and screams as the blood pours from its mouth, the chainsaw cutting deep into its back and splintering the spinal column into jagged chunks of bone. I blow its head away--more darkyellow blood splatters across the stone floor and some onto me.

Still shaking, I slowly lower the shotgun, staring at the headless corpses lying before me. I holster the shotgun and pry the chainsaw-gun from the lifeless zombie's gray hands. May as well pack double the punch where I'm goin.

PART 2 COMING SOON!
 
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One tip: you need to work on your metaphors. There's also the part where even though it's first person perspective, it doesn't seem very 'attached,' where's the introspection? Try and give us the thoughts that race through 'your' head throughout all this, and don't skimp on the backstory. In writing, a split-second can give us an entire life story. Other than that, I like zombies, therefore I suppose I'll read your next installment.
 
wow thanks! I'm a huge zombie fan myself--you can see so on my myspace! Oh and Ethix--you can definitely count on my taking advice with the whole 'split-second' deal. Part 2 aint gonna take long now! Oh, and there are more zombies on the way with axes and chainsaws and other weapons to bludgeon peasants!
 
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