I hope you enjoy this little story I've finally put down on paper, it has been in my head for a while. Please read and review, I would love to hear your opinions regardless of whether they are positive or negative. Also, this story is meant to be intentionally ambiguous and definitely not meant to be lighthearted in any way shape or form.

I looked up at the December sky, a swirl of colors and clouds blended together to paint a picture of life... a life that had dwindled on this planet. It was my 35th birthday today, 35 years of life in this world, this planet we call a home… if only we treated it with the respect it deserved. If only we were humble instead of proud… perhaps if we had been satisfied with what we had then we wouldn't be in this mess. Sometimes I think about what life might have been like had this disaster not have happened to us, maybe it's the world's way of punishing us for our misdeeds. I can almost picture myself in the British countryside with the love of my life, a few children, maybe a dog running around the yard. We would be in the back garden enjoying a nice meal to celebrate my 30th year of life; instead, I am alone at this very hour and that much closer to death. I had spent so much time struggling, running, attempting to survive. It worked for a while, my childhood obsessions served me well, my desire to protect those dear to me gave me breath, but now everyone I cared for is gone and I am alone. There really is no longer a point in surviving; at this point it doesn't feel like a victory to last another day. I feel like I am a prisoner, a dead soul trapped inside a living body. I guess I became one of them the moment I saw the last shred of hope fade away in those hazel eyes I loved for so long. It is time that I embrace death as an old friend instead of a current enemy. It was my time and I have come to accept it.

It all seemed to happen so suddenly, my memory was never really that good when I was younger and it is even shoddier now. I can barely remember the entire story of how this world came to be. I have vague recollections of everything. There is only a random collection of pictures in my head, mere fragments of stories struggling to fit together. I guess this being my last day on earth I can give myself this gift of recollection. I don't know why I am writing all this down. Does it even matter? Surely it doesn't, there is no foreseeable way in which this journal can survive all this… let alone for a pair of eyes to stumble upon this collection of words on a tattered old notebook fashioned like the diary of River Song.

This "apocalypse" these "zombies" came about in a way that was not very predictable… well I guess in a way it was, but really I think we all expected something more grand. I remember films and literature in my childhood, fictional stories of how the world would end. Stories of how zombies or various other beings would destroy us all. A common theme to all those fantasies was the survival of human kind. Such a superior species could never to succumb to such savagery; we would always succeed in the uphill battle. But life isn't a fairytale, it is an upward struggle and in the end you reach the top of the cliff and you just fall. I lost any semblance of optimism I had a long time ago. It is a bit hard to look to the brighter things in life considering the situation. Faith no longer existed… but I digress.

Anyways… it seemed as though we were all so fascinated with the thought of a zombie apocalypse, heaven knows why. People were so enamored with this idea; they bought weapons and rations in preparation for this fantasy fueled future. People built bunkers decked to the nines so they could survive any disaster. The theories of zombies were always so much bigger than we were you know? It had to be this great thing that would topple us down. People imagined viruses spread from raging monkeys infecting us and turning us to mindless flesh eating creatures. Or maybe perhaps it would have been this secret science experiment conducted by the military in Area 51 funded by the government. They would be experimenting with the gene pool of many beings and viruses and bacteria alike, using the influence of some sort of radiation; they would be trying to create the "Great American Soldier" ready to fight all the enemies of the United States of America, and then it would backfire and result in a bloodbath. That's how it always is right? Mad scientist stuck in a lab no longer in touch with their humanity and sought only power, then it would go out of control and the entirety of civilization would collapse as if it were sand. Sadly we only have ourselves to blame. We became too complacent, we became lazy, and we became zombies. We were too busy seeking pleasures… we lost sight of trying to better ourselves and finding peace. Instead the people craved gluttonous pleasures that led to the development of stimulated happiness. We lusted for earthly pleasures and we reached our downfall.

It all started when a group of random people trying to make some magical drug to produce pure euphoria. By some sheer stroke of luck, and a shit ton of MDMA I'm sure, these group of individuals happened across some mixture of substances that fed our gluttonous souls. So many people from many spectrums fell to this drug, mostly those disenfranchised by society. Society made happiness impossible for them and thus they sought it in a vial. Happiness without sadness is merely an illusion of pleasure, a chemically induced coma of stupidity that created mindless individuals, but it was enough for the people. It was a real life "soma" before our very eyes. Eventually people became addicted to this synthetic happiness, how could one tire of such "happiness"? Soon droves of people sought this magical elixir and took it in vast quantities. People became desperate. They did anything to get their high, and like any other drug, the more you took… the more you needed… and need they did. Eventually the supplies ran out. The people capable enough to make this "soma" had succumbed to it and no longer had the ability to think. Soon we had a huge population of people comatose over that stuff. However, after so much consumption this magical elixir of euphoria became a poison. Something changed in those people. Their minds rewired. They became violent due to their unyielding search of happiness. Soon they turned on each other and everyone else. Their chemical composition no longer a balance system, but instead they became volatile sacks of nothingness. They mutated to become nothing but shells of their former selves. They lacked emotion. There was only hunger. By the time we realized what was going on it was already too late… the infection had began. These "zombies" multiplied and they seemed indestructible. And it seemed that anyone who tried this stuff eventually fell victim to it, regardless of the quantity they took. So many people tried it and it was only a matter of time before the majority of the world's population fell to its cruel grasp.

I remember my teenage years when my friends would joke about our very own survival plan. We would meet up and camp out in some warehouse to survive. It was all fun and games back then, the thought of surviving and overcoming the elements… it was such a romantic idea at the time. I remember being a kid and begging my mother for first aid kits and various survival tools. I was a weird child to say the least. I always had a fascination for survival. I remember being about 10 years old and seeing this snake in the yard, I didn't call for help; Instead, I took a machete and cut the thing up. I felt so proud of myself. It started young I guess. I was so obsessed with all thoughts of survival. Any money I earned had immediately gone into buying various gear needed to survive in cases of emergencies. I got my first flint and steal when I was in 5th grade and I was always practicing with that thing. I bought waterproof lighters, string that could hold hundreds of pounds worth of weight, MRE's that could last me months, knives that had window breakers and seatbelt cutters, various multi-tools, and a random assortment of weapons. As I write this down my trusty slim machete I bought in my late teens rests next to me. Who knew my childish obsession would serve to help me survive this mess? And it didn't hurt that I ended up choosing nursing as my profession. I guess all those times playing with swords and knives and even shooting guns helped me survive for so long. If only I could say the same for those I held dear to my heart.

I must have been 23 when this all started to take off. Unfortunately my family was taken out first by these mindless creatures. Working in a hospital put them in the front lines of the infected. People came in reporting all these negative symptoms and the next thing you know they're clawing at the doctors and nurses trying to help them. I try not to dwell on it… but sometimes I wonder… if I had been working that day, would I be just like them… would I have become a mindless creature or another body added to the death count. My friends and I had a plan of action. We were able to gather any sort of weapons we had and we started our journey to survival. We met up at my small apartment and packed my friends truck with all the survival equipment we could manage. We had food, water, weapons. I was proficient with my machete and my friend with his sais. The five of us were able to survive long enough to reach some military base in the middle of America. With my obsessive compulsion to buy survival gear we had enough rations and weapons to keep us alive long enough to reach the base and then some. It was fortified and protected by America's top fighters. Perhaps if I had stayed there I wouldn't be so close to my death now. I could have lived life with my dearest friends. Maybe I could have found a new love and started a family. I could have had kids and a dog and some semblance of normality in this new world… but I just couldn't stay, a life behind walls didn't seem to be worth it. And I had spent so much time in that base in my youth due to my military family members… it was just too painful to stay knowing my family was dead. And those hazel eyes were calling me and I had to follow.

The United Kingdom was able to keep its borders clear of the infected longer than the other nations. Being completely surrounded by water helped ensure their safety. That was where my hazel eyes lived. I was planning to go to England anyways. The plan was always to graduate college, get some work experience, move to London and get a visa, and eventually we would spend our lives in the countryside with that stupid dog and children with hazel eyes. Our communication was sparse, but I gathered enough to know of her safety and that kept me going. Regardless of this new world I would find my love and we would live our lives to the best of our abilities.

A few months after my friends and I arrived in the military base, I had overheard some people talking about exchanging supplies and information with England. The survivors had to join forces if they wanted to reclaim the world for the humans. They needed volunteers for the trip. They needed capable people to be there just in case something happened. I had to go, it might have been my only chance to make it to England and there was no way I was passing up the opportunity. I bid my friends a tearful goodbye and set off to find my happiness. That was the last time I saw them. I wonder how they are doing sometimes. Did they make it? Are they living life or have they become numb like so many others? I try not to dwell on these things.

I made it to England safely. Because they were protected by their waters they were able to better control who entered and who left. This allowed them to survive for so long. Luckily, I was able to manage enough resources to find the love of my life. We had a few years of blissful happiness. It was like the world around us wasn't falling apart. We were together and that's all that mattered. The chaos around us didn't exist and it was just us, together and completely in love.

However, nothing stays good. Eventually, everything falls apart. It is inevitable. The infection became too widespread. The United Kingdom had fallen. I can't remember exactly how it happened. Maybe some refugees that were in the early stages of infection managed to pass the screening. Maybe the nation just gave up. It didn't matter how it happened really. All that mattered was that it had and we had to start running again. Maybe if we hadn't been so careless we could have survived it all. We could have fortified our home. We could have stocked up on food and weapons and other things essential to survival. We could have survived. But we succumbed into our own world of love. We became careless. We were living zombies who didn't care about the problems of the world, and thus, the problems were able to catch up to us. We had to run, it was the only way. We lasted for a few years; constantly moving from one place to another, always managing to make it out alive. But the stress of it all beat down my hazel eyed love. It wasn't the infection that had led to my better half's demise, it wasn't a stray bullet or a sword, and it wasn't some tragic accident. In the end it was teenage carelessness. Turns out smoking for years takes a toll on your body… who knew… I guess it is better that it was cancer that took hazel eyes, I don't know what I would have done if it had been the infection.

So now here I am once again. Alone. Near death. I guess I could have teamed up with other survivors somewhere along the line. I heard rumors of a camp in Cardiff that I could have gone to. I could have found a new group to give me a better chance of survival, but it just didn't feel right. Nothing felt right anymore. Life was no longer full of color for me, it was dull and grey and meaningless. I became angry after all the losses in my life, I became careless. I could have helped that group of survivors the other day. But I was too caught up in my own world and I became angry. I took out all my frustrations on them. In my emotional rage I let my guard down and one of them was able to land a bullet in me. I stumbled back and fell against the ruins of an old building. I didn't fight back and they didn't want to stick around. I was able to gather myself long enough to get into high ground where I am now with nothing but my weapon and the sky to keep me company. I didn't have much. I was able to slow the bleeding but I am too weak to do anything else. If I had take a different path somewhere along the line then maybe I would be somewhere else right now, safe and sound in some bunker with my friends. Instead I am here… bleeding… life fading… but like I said I already died a long time ago. I am not afraid. I have survived long enough. There is nothing left for me in this world any more. I welcome death as an old friend and no longer run from him as I did in the past…

Happy birthday to me… happy birthday to me… happy birthday to…

Darkness…