Posted by GRAVELUST* on January 21, 2008, 11:27 am
71.228.176.49
This is it. This is all that's left of my world. A single city that no one remembers the name of and a few crumbling buildings. Scores of undead roam our once green home, but a few of the living have managed to set up a shelter here to protect those that remain. We try to keep our numbers up and welcome any uninfected people who manage to get here. We're covered in other diseases, though. A few people are lost to these illnesses or the undead every day.
We are the new breed of conquerors. We are the undead. The crumbling buildings and dark alleyways have become our sanctuaries. Our bodies no longer feel the fear that our mortal hearts wilted with among these places. They don't feel the joy of finding our friends, either. There is no warmth in another's touch for us, only a constant numb hell. The humans hunt us like dogs. In fact, the send their hounds after us sometimes. We suffer at their cruel hands, sometimes being put to work like slaves.
In our town, we try to live happy lives. Everyone tries their hardest to smile, even when their eyes are more dead than the monsters outside these walls. We all try to pretend we don't know that having a child almost always means death here. None of us ever admit that we are carrying tired hearts and crushed dreams. No, we simply put on a charade of paradise every day and nod to our neighbors with as warm of a smile as we can muster.
Though our bodies move and we still exist, our hearts are dead. We are all apathetic and those of us who can feel simply walk into the human town, seeking nothing but a bullet through our skulls. This life we now live is an eternal hell on earth, a damnation brought to us through the bacteria. None of us ever wanted this horrible curse of a gift; none of us wanted to chase our loved ones as we try to tell them we still love them. It hurts so badly to watch them scream in terror rather than hug you close and weep with joy as they would their own kind.
We have lost our mothers and husbands to their kind. Their legion is built from our shattered lives. Sometimes we hear a gunshot and think that one of the hellish bastards have been killed, only to realize we have lost another pitiful soul to a self inflicted death. The air tastes bitter here and we have no tears left to shed. All we really have is each other and a dream - a dream that we will be able to return to our homes and kiss each other goodnight without the fear of waking up next to a corpse. It's a simple dream you may have the comfort of now, but we never will again.
Sometimes we return to our homes and crawl into our beds. We don't sleep, but it's comforting just the same. A few of us are even lucky enough to find our loved ones suffering beside us. It's a weak comfort, but a comfort just the same. After all, no one will ever sit down to a Sunday morning breakfast with us again, since breakfast means killing something that deserves to continue living just a little longer, something that deserves the time to say goodbye to its wife and children like we never got the chance to.
I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.
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