Prologue
The worst fear it fear itself....
All situations comprised of horror are interpreted negatively. Its out mind and gut feeling that tells us beware even before the tingle as well as the metallic taste of true and impenetrable fear appears within the veins. The animal instinct to find sanctuary will never cease until it is won, peacefully or forcefully....
The January wind beat down on the Ferrari's windshield. The wiper blades pushed the snow away so he could see through the glass. It was cold and somber outside; the dull gray made depressed enough to stop listening to his Fozzy CD.
The WWE Raw was in Seattle, Washington this week. He lived in Miami, Florida. He was getting sick and tired of these little towns; Cow Towns, he called them. Rednecks, even if they were farmers from the Northwest, made him nervous. He glanced at the map in the empty passenger's seat across from him. He was nearing another Cow Town, Palouse.
He looked back through the windshield and by instinct, began to slow to a stop. "What the~"
Chris Jericho stepped out of his Ferrari, glaring at the dark shadow before him. It was a barricade; he'd have to find another way to get through this hell hole. Defeated, he retreated to the driver's seat and sighted. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry; Vince would fire him on spot.
Chris turned the ignition key and was greeted to the sound of a dead engine. "Grrrr...." He rammed his head into the steering wheel setting off the horn. "Damn it," he said, sitting up. He was going to have to climb the barricade, if he wanted to find help. If he was lucky, he'd meet a hot chic walking down the street....
"Dream on, Chris." Again, he stepped out of the car, and began to climb the structure. Once over, he saw himself on Main street, or what was left of it.
The street was littered with debris of all sorts: glass from the broken windows of shops and other buildings, uprooted lampposts, overturned cars; it was a garbage dump.
Then, by a police car that had crashed into the local library, the shadows shifted, not much, but enough to let him know it was human.
"HEY! Hey, assclown! Can't you hear me? I need help," he was getting closer to the human as he yelled. "My car won't start~"
The man was hideous. His coat was ripped open and bloody to reveal an even bloodier shirt and jeans. The flesh of his arms was rotted, infiltrated with infection; as much of it had fallen off in what looked like large chunks. There was a large gash across his forehead; brain protruding from skull. The eyes were lifeless and without pupil. the gaping mouth holding crooked and decaying teeth, brown-colored gums and lips gone from the picture of horror.
The man stepped with a slight drag toward Chris, groping at the smell of living flesh. It's hands found their notch around the collar of Jericho's sparkly vest, ready to feed its putrid mouth.
"NO....!" Y2J screamed, throwing the man into the police car's open door and onto the seat. Panicked, he turned 180 degrees and his brain registered that more were coming.
He looked to his left, down the main drag of the desecrated town and did the only thing he could think to do
Run.
The worst fear it fear itself....
All situations comprised of horror are interpreted negatively. Its out mind and gut feeling that tells us beware even before the tingle as well as the metallic taste of true and impenetrable fear appears within the veins. The animal instinct to find sanctuary will never cease until it is won, peacefully or forcefully....
The January wind beat down on the Ferrari's windshield. The wiper blades pushed the snow away so he could see through the glass. It was cold and somber outside; the dull gray made depressed enough to stop listening to his Fozzy CD.
The WWE Raw was in Seattle, Washington this week. He lived in Miami, Florida. He was getting sick and tired of these little towns; Cow Towns, he called them. Rednecks, even if they were farmers from the Northwest, made him nervous. He glanced at the map in the empty passenger's seat across from him. He was nearing another Cow Town, Palouse.
He looked back through the windshield and by instinct, began to slow to a stop. "What the~"
Chris Jericho stepped out of his Ferrari, glaring at the dark shadow before him. It was a barricade; he'd have to find another way to get through this hell hole. Defeated, he retreated to the driver's seat and sighted. He was going to be late if he didn't hurry; Vince would fire him on spot.
Chris turned the ignition key and was greeted to the sound of a dead engine. "Grrrr...." He rammed his head into the steering wheel setting off the horn. "Damn it," he said, sitting up. He was going to have to climb the barricade, if he wanted to find help. If he was lucky, he'd meet a hot chic walking down the street....
"Dream on, Chris." Again, he stepped out of the car, and began to climb the structure. Once over, he saw himself on Main street, or what was left of it.
The street was littered with debris of all sorts: glass from the broken windows of shops and other buildings, uprooted lampposts, overturned cars; it was a garbage dump.
Then, by a police car that had crashed into the local library, the shadows shifted, not much, but enough to let him know it was human.
"HEY! Hey, assclown! Can't you hear me? I need help," he was getting closer to the human as he yelled. "My car won't start~"
The man was hideous. His coat was ripped open and bloody to reveal an even bloodier shirt and jeans. The flesh of his arms was rotted, infiltrated with infection; as much of it had fallen off in what looked like large chunks. There was a large gash across his forehead; brain protruding from skull. The eyes were lifeless and without pupil. the gaping mouth holding crooked and decaying teeth, brown-colored gums and lips gone from the picture of horror.
The man stepped with a slight drag toward Chris, groping at the smell of living flesh. It's hands found their notch around the collar of Jericho's sparkly vest, ready to feed its putrid mouth.
"NO....!" Y2J screamed, throwing the man into the police car's open door and onto the seat. Panicked, he turned 180 degrees and his brain registered that more were coming.
He looked to his left, down the main drag of the desecrated town and did the only thing he could think to do
Run.