Valcust
Lord of Altera
Alright! Challenge accepted! :3
I can't say that I remember exactly how it happened.
And what I can remember is a faint mix of blurs, smeared and stained by my own uncertain hold on reality.
Help.
I remember her screaming for help.
The asphalt against my cheek was oddly warm in the moonless night, perhaps it was the smoke-like fog that hung in the air as if it were suspended by strings to some preverbal ceiling.
Laura, I called out.
I screamed into the wall of fog that surrounded me, propping myself up and staggering to my feet.
To my left, a car was left unattended to. It was a deep blue, one of those egg-shaped 'environmentally friendly' piles of excrement that you'd always hear about in the commercials.
From what I've seen in the past few days, I didn't have time to knock on the window to ask for help nicely.
With a braced elbow, shards of glass came cascading from the side of the useless machine.
As I feverishly reached for the lock, I couldn't help but peer into the thing, to preemptively examine my spoils.
A first-aid kit, bangages, epinephrine, ibuprofen. Anything you'd expect, really.
Then there was the duffel bag.
The black, ominous sack of spoils that I couldn't help but feel good about.
Then I heard my name, again.
It was her voice, screaming, nearly pleading.
I had not time for the duffel bag, Instead I charged headfirst into the fog.
She's dead, you know. I thought to myself.
No, no she can't be. Another voice argued.
I've got to hurry.
Not even twenty feet from the car, a supermarket came into fruition.
Just another mom & pop tiny concrete and glass structure in the endless abyss. It might as well have been an oasis to a man dying of thirst.
One of the front windows was already burst open, it's lower shards still wet with the sticky crimson substance we've all been taught is bad.
Just past it, Laura frantically ran through the isles of bread and fruit.
She called out my name again just as her eyes met mine.
Her pursuers didn't seem to take a liking to the screams much.
These two actually made me chuckle a bit, It was odd to find a few who were still mostly in tact, but I swear, these two were reciting their vows when the thing hit.
We were unlucky enough to have a bride who didn't want a long dress.
though her gasping and gurgling mouth, pale skin, and glazed white eyes somehow took away any humor I saw in that in nearly an instant.
The man looked like some wanna-be elvis, white frilly suit and all, though his left arm hung like a rag-doll. I'd imagine his humerus was shattered.
Humerus.
And just like that, my devious smile was back.
About this time, Laura had already lead limp-armed elvis back up the candy-isle.
The bride in white, her eyes were intently focused on me.
I silently chuckled to myself.
What? do you want a kiss?
She apparently took offense to that.
They lunge, they always lunge.
With a side-step, it's always easy to get them off balance.
I saw the bride fall to the ground, face first, stumbling about and struggling to even prop herself up on her arms.
Now, people can talk about stomping one of these things out nice and easy.
It's about as easy as trying to crush a coconut, Not a simple feat.
Sure, I smashed, stomped, put my foot down, whatever you want to call it.
About the time the red pool reached my second foot, and she continued gargling, I realized this wasn't going to work.
That's also about the time I felt elvis' limp arm reach around my neck.
My only reaction was to rush backwards, forcing the guy on his back.
His ragdoll arm fell to the floor beside us, I didn't miss a beat getting face to face with the thing.
Punch after punch, I saw the creature go from elvis to steve buscemi.
One final punch to the bridge of his nose, and at least the thing stopped moving.
With a final sigh of relief, I couldn't help but feel as if I'd won.
Then I remembered the bride I'd left with half a face.
I turned, to see her only feet from me.
I prepared for the worst.
My eyes closed in peaceful acceptance.
Goodbye, I thought.
I did my best.
With a clang and a thud, I opened my eyes to see the creature in the white dress motionless, with a trashcan where her head used to be.
Laura stood opposite the gruesome scene, panting and gasping for air.
After a simple embrace, we gathered as many cans as we could fit into eachother's backpacks, and made for the window.
Then I remembered, the duffel bag.
We passed by the same egg-shaped car, and I'd ripped the black bag from the passenger seat.
Both of or faces lit up in a smile from the contents.
We're going to be okay, I thought.
Though, back then, I didn't know what lingered in the fog, waiting.
===========================================================================
Wrote this in half an hour, Probably pretty terrible >.>
Anyways, here's a cat.
I can't say that I remember exactly how it happened.
And what I can remember is a faint mix of blurs, smeared and stained by my own uncertain hold on reality.
Help.
I remember her screaming for help.
The asphalt against my cheek was oddly warm in the moonless night, perhaps it was the smoke-like fog that hung in the air as if it were suspended by strings to some preverbal ceiling.
Laura, I called out.
I screamed into the wall of fog that surrounded me, propping myself up and staggering to my feet.
To my left, a car was left unattended to. It was a deep blue, one of those egg-shaped 'environmentally friendly' piles of excrement that you'd always hear about in the commercials.
From what I've seen in the past few days, I didn't have time to knock on the window to ask for help nicely.
With a braced elbow, shards of glass came cascading from the side of the useless machine.
As I feverishly reached for the lock, I couldn't help but peer into the thing, to preemptively examine my spoils.
A first-aid kit, bangages, epinephrine, ibuprofen. Anything you'd expect, really.
Then there was the duffel bag.
The black, ominous sack of spoils that I couldn't help but feel good about.
Then I heard my name, again.
It was her voice, screaming, nearly pleading.
I had not time for the duffel bag, Instead I charged headfirst into the fog.
She's dead, you know. I thought to myself.
No, no she can't be. Another voice argued.
I've got to hurry.
Not even twenty feet from the car, a supermarket came into fruition.
Just another mom & pop tiny concrete and glass structure in the endless abyss. It might as well have been an oasis to a man dying of thirst.
One of the front windows was already burst open, it's lower shards still wet with the sticky crimson substance we've all been taught is bad.
Just past it, Laura frantically ran through the isles of bread and fruit.
She called out my name again just as her eyes met mine.
Her pursuers didn't seem to take a liking to the screams much.
These two actually made me chuckle a bit, It was odd to find a few who were still mostly in tact, but I swear, these two were reciting their vows when the thing hit.
We were unlucky enough to have a bride who didn't want a long dress.
though her gasping and gurgling mouth, pale skin, and glazed white eyes somehow took away any humor I saw in that in nearly an instant.
The man looked like some wanna-be elvis, white frilly suit and all, though his left arm hung like a rag-doll. I'd imagine his humerus was shattered.
Humerus.
And just like that, my devious smile was back.
About this time, Laura had already lead limp-armed elvis back up the candy-isle.
The bride in white, her eyes were intently focused on me.
I silently chuckled to myself.
What? do you want a kiss?
She apparently took offense to that.
They lunge, they always lunge.
With a side-step, it's always easy to get them off balance.
I saw the bride fall to the ground, face first, stumbling about and struggling to even prop herself up on her arms.
Now, people can talk about stomping one of these things out nice and easy.
It's about as easy as trying to crush a coconut, Not a simple feat.
Sure, I smashed, stomped, put my foot down, whatever you want to call it.
About the time the red pool reached my second foot, and she continued gargling, I realized this wasn't going to work.
That's also about the time I felt elvis' limp arm reach around my neck.
My only reaction was to rush backwards, forcing the guy on his back.
His ragdoll arm fell to the floor beside us, I didn't miss a beat getting face to face with the thing.
Punch after punch, I saw the creature go from elvis to steve buscemi.
One final punch to the bridge of his nose, and at least the thing stopped moving.
With a final sigh of relief, I couldn't help but feel as if I'd won.
Then I remembered the bride I'd left with half a face.
I turned, to see her only feet from me.
I prepared for the worst.
My eyes closed in peaceful acceptance.
Goodbye, I thought.
I did my best.
With a clang and a thud, I opened my eyes to see the creature in the white dress motionless, with a trashcan where her head used to be.
Laura stood opposite the gruesome scene, panting and gasping for air.
After a simple embrace, we gathered as many cans as we could fit into eachother's backpacks, and made for the window.
Then I remembered, the duffel bag.
We passed by the same egg-shaped car, and I'd ripped the black bag from the passenger seat.
Both of or faces lit up in a smile from the contents.
We're going to be okay, I thought.
Though, back then, I didn't know what lingered in the fog, waiting.
===========================================================================
Wrote this in half an hour, Probably pretty terrible >.>
Anyways, here's a cat.
