'Just Like Me'
What if Zombies were the victims?
Genre- 'Slice of Life'
Warnings- Includes Gore
A disclaimer- Character Undead Physical Appearance- Left 4 Dead
Concept, Character Personalities and Alive Physical Appearance- Kira Hall
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Look at me. Look at what I've been reduced to.
Just ripping a man's heart out of his very chest in the dead of night. Passersby tiptoe hoping not to be heard. I feel so guilty. I try to hide during the day so I don't hurt anyone but some are unfortunate enough to think it's safer at night. I can't stop myself.
Some are afraid that I'll do the same to them, some are malicious thinking I must be exterminated while other feel compassion for me and want to help. Yet no matter who you ask you will always hear names, horrible names. Humans in the city call us Zombies, Humans in the country call us Walkers, the Government and Army don't quite stoop to that level, calling us mere 'Infected' giving everyone untrue hope that this can be fixed. But at the end of the day they're still names.
I was like them once. I had a family, friends, a girlfriend even. I don't remember much but the bits I do, well I wasn't exactly a saint, and I didn't really take part in the community, causing more trouble than good pouncing around like a cougar. When they said flowerbed ruin-er I said Parkour artist.
It's getting warmer, the sun is coming up. Must find shelter. Too many of 'Them' come out during the day. Ripping a limb off and feeling around with my now sharp nailed hands I quickly scale a building. It's funny really what would have taken me hours now takes seconds, I have more endurance now, better upper body strength and more resistance to the ground when I land on it.
I remember when I was younger I used to play this video game about assassin's that wear cool robes and cut off they're ring fingers where scaling 50 foot buildings was child's play and leaping off was simple as placing a bale of hay underneath. That's how I got into Parkour, I still feel the duct tape on my upper and lower arms, calves and thighs, an attempt at giving me more wind resistance by taping down my navy blue hoodie and my spouse would flip!
I remember her most of all. Ruby, she was so beautiful, what I wouldn't give to see her again with a charcoal pixie cut framing her face and lipstick far too red for her complexion. Ruby red. Said it fit her in more ways that one and of course I couldn't argue. Or 'Debate' as she liked to call them, man we had a lot of debates. She may have been overly emotional but she could rip you a new one any time. Vocally of course, always sharp-witted and far too fragile and small to beat you physically. A literal Brains and Brawn couple.
Could be just me but you just can't love a girl who hasn't verbally tormented you on various levels.
Jumping through a window I settle into a corner dropping the poor 'survivor's' arm and think.
I found her once you know, her hair longer covering her face and clothing ripped by finger nails sharp and now a meter long. It was hard to tell but what really tipped me off was her sobbing. When your eyes are rotted out your other senses become stronger you know and there was no mistake that this crying voice was hers, my Ruby. I had to run though, survivors were coming. I hope she made it out.
Maybe I should go look for her, I still know her scent, this arm can be my offering to her. After all, she's just a simple killing machine with no memories or feelings, her endless sobbing said to only be in use so she can lure in victims and have her fill. Just another mindless undead. Just like me.
Right?
599 Words, 40 Sentences, 12 Paragraphs