UnfortunateSoul
Member
Two dice, a tube of toothpaste, a rotten apple, a half-eaten water biscuit and a tin of cat food. A lousy haul for a lousy day. All the items laid bare on the floor that was infested with rusted metal skin, half of the biscuit that was still dissolving mocked his growling stomach with little mercy behind the droopy crumply eyes, though Jared’s expression only soured with disappointment, he was too exhausted to beat himself up yet.
Two hours he had spent challenging the capacity of his strained lungs, treading every corner like another glare would appear from the warm embrace of the shadows, leaving him paralysed, all apparently for nothing. The rather thin air that was available in this metal tomb did nothing to help. “I kind of hope that the others have worse luck then me. At least then I won’t be the only screw up…”
He briefly wondered if the apple would be edible, yes it was growing a strange layer of brown, a bite had already been taken out of it and mushy insect corpses littered the bite mark, but it was better than Cat Food and a judgemental biscuit. Whether by fortune or misfortune, that question died as quick as it arrived along with the apple itself, it began to (Seemingly on cue) slowly roll away from the boy, soon finding itself moving just out of sight down what looked like a drainage pipe, leaving him to only sigh. “That answers that. Cat food it is then”
The water biscuit was out of the question as he would not tolerate it’s mocking antics anymore. The dice looked useful, he did need something to chuck at the birds who kept stealing his stuff and only his stuff, plus the sound they made when jiggling them in his hand was incredibly satisfying, they sort of reminded him of those Chinese stress balls his uncle used to have.
With a small jolt of sinister pleasure Jared placed his foot firmly on top of what was left of the water biscuit, making sure to properly ground his feet into the crumpling corpse. Soon after though he immediately had to stop and think about the fact that he had just carried out a vendetta against a biscuit. ”What’s wrong with me? I can’t let a stupid little biscuit get to me, no matter how judgemental. I am a rock. I AM A WALL”
He almost yelled that out loud, but managed to keep it to a low pathetic whimper. Immediately, his hand ducked down to scoop up the pair of dice and pocket them, it seemed like he might need to apply that ‘Stress Ball’ idea. The final item was the toothpaste, considering the state of the structure as whole the tube was in rather good condition, probably even full. Then again, what use would he have for toothpaste?
By now he was sure that his yellowing teeth were not salvageable and he doubted that anyone back at the camp were in a different position. Could it be counted as food? Decker used to eat toothpaste, but his mother made sure to bring that habit to an end with some rehabilitation (Via very cheap toothpaste), now he treats the stuff like that weird grey chocolate bar he found under the sink one time.
But Jared then decided to just take the paste anyway, it probably won’t help anybody, but it’d make him feel like he found more than one useful object. Yeah, two objects. That’s a number to feel pride in! Two… Uh… Better than one. But still not as good as three. And into his cramped pockets the tooth paste went.
He didn’t have any sort of watch on him so the only way to tell how long he’d spent moping was his own imagination “They’ve been gone for like… Days!” And if there was one thing Jared was good at, it was exaggeration.
“I mean; I could go look for them… But…” He glanced down the adjacent hallway, where the lights had continued to dim, every flicker sending him a feeling of ’I dare you’. “I need to find my testicles first” And the accompanying groan of complete disapproval and hunger only made the boy gulp. “I hope I find them before he does…” He stood still, waiting for the groan to come again, to make sure he wasn’t hearing voices in his head again. And- Yeah, that’s a zombie all right. Shit.
“And I’m gonna have to deal with it, ain’t I?” Jared looked over his shoulder where his hand lay, wrapped up in one of his old socks like a puppet (”Well, I can’t. I’m just a sock” Each breath I took forced Jared to get an intake of sweaty feet), a dumb, grizzled puppet. “Yeah, but you HAVE to come with me when I do it”
(My voice came out deeper than expected, rough, broken “I didn’t agree to that”)
“You don’t have a choice” Jared reminded the sock, using his free hand to take a knife from his belt and waddle forward at an achingly slow pace.
(I struggled at first “This is a kidnapping!” Some could say I had confidence problems)
“Yeah, and me without a jury to carry out the conviction” The sock was about to give a strongly worded response, but Jared buried the sock head in his armpit to shut the mouthy bugger up. Why did they have to leave him with the worst guy in the group? “Alright, less talky, more stabby the undead hobo” Shaking prior thoughts from his head, he felt the atmosphere grow colder as he skulked down the abandoned corridor, each groan of the metal made him fear the walls would give way at any moment.
I wonder why no one calls them zombies anymore The thought fired into his head at random, like a self-defence mechanism against his growing dread as the groans became louder. People go with ‘Walkers’, ‘Joggers’, ‘Undead’, ect. But no one ever calls them zombies anymore. I mean, that’s what they are right? Is everybody worried that the zombie lawyers are gonna sue them up the ass in copy right lawsuits in the apocalypse? Jared shook his head, sometimes he just couldn’t understand people.
Speaking of people, he realised that the groans had reached their peak in volume. As well as being accompanied by the sound of a rattling chain, and then a familiar thumping noise like someone was bashing their head against something hard. Jared was close, close enough to smell the rotten flesh, which also meant he was probably close enough to get jumped. I barely survived the last time, no thanks to Mr Sock for cowering in the corner.
His sock companion was silent at his mental jab, though whether the sock was ignoring him or was simply not telepathic, Jared couldn’t say. But poking his head around the corner, he could say that he was thirsty after laying his eyes upon the very full looking bottle of alcohol sitting on an old looking table (And that Mr Sock was so not getting any).
Unfortunately, this bottle was also next to the growling corpse that seemed exceedingly annoyed at the fact that it had been chained to the wall. “Urg… This means it’s time to try sweet talked. I hate social interaction” Jared muttered this under his breath, just because the corpse had no brain didn’t mean it couldn’t get hurt feelings. “Alright, Mr Sock. Stay quiet. Don’t want a repeat of the last guy we met when you insulted him”
(I only told him about the rumour of him preferring to spend his days with his knob balls deep in packaging long past it’s expiry date)
Ignore him, ignore him… Jared had that mantra for a while now, every time that damn sock ran it’s mouth. Which was a lot. Especially when he was nervous. But, swallowing his apprehension, Jared pushed on. He had a mission. A mission to get alcohol and hug it all to deal with his meaningless existence. “Ello, Chap. Can I call you Chap? I mean, I’ve already caught you in a compromising position, so I’d say we’re already fast friends” He bounded onwards, poking the walker’s chain with a coy wink “Things got a bit too kinky, ey?” The corpse did not seem amused, in fact it tried to snap at him. Rude.
“Alright, alright. I meant no harm by it, friend” Jared reached over and pulled up a chair on the other side of the table “Mind if I take a sip of your drink? What’s that?” He stoped for a moment, leaning in to listen to the enraged creature as it desperately struggled against it’s chain to try and bite the boy. “Ha! You’re mighty generous, Chap” Within moments the cap was off and Jared sighed in utter ecstasy as the cold embrace of the liquids light touch trailing down the inside of his throat. “Ooof, now that’s a drink. Got quite the-“ He used his free hand to form a fisting motion in the air “-umpf to it, eh?”
The ‘Chap’ merely pawed for Jared’s peachy, fragile, rippable flesh like an animal. In response, Jared nodded and offered the man some alcohol, pouring some of the contents over the corpse’s head. “There ya go. Nice and drunk. Hey, can your kind even get drunk?” The creature slumped forwards, trying everything in it’s power to get closer to Jared. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry for saying ‘your kind’. I was just curious”
(I opened my two-inch-wide mouth once more, I had to ask. Questions itched at my skin “Did you ask him if he likes sleeping with the dead?”)
“Nope”
(A ripped piece of fabric moved to whisper in his ear, still keeping my distance from the corpse. “Because maybe he likes sleeping with his own kind” Only to groan when Jared’s stomach growled. “You’re hungry already? You fat, man”)
“And you’re anorexic” Jared reached into his pocket, soon coming out with the tin of cat food he found earlier and placing it on the table. He instantly felt the Chap’s gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can take that disgusted look off your face”
(“You’re gonna eat the cat food?” If I had a gag reflex, I would have gagged)
“Yes, I’m gonna eat the cat food” Before pulling on the tucked in segment of the lid, revealing what looked and smelled like a fresh batch of vomit. The smell in particular hitting like a hammer. “Because this isn’t cat food. This is a plate of spaghetti bollanaise. Fancy stuff. Great stuff” He sword, these two were getting more judgemental than the biscuit. “And it’s gonna taste good…” His fingers penetrated the soft, squidgy surface, gathering up the fatty material in his palm. “Great…” And with a wince and gulp, he scooped up the contents of the tin and forced it down his throat. “Amazing, in fact!”
Two hours he had spent challenging the capacity of his strained lungs, treading every corner like another glare would appear from the warm embrace of the shadows, leaving him paralysed, all apparently for nothing. The rather thin air that was available in this metal tomb did nothing to help. “I kind of hope that the others have worse luck then me. At least then I won’t be the only screw up…”
He briefly wondered if the apple would be edible, yes it was growing a strange layer of brown, a bite had already been taken out of it and mushy insect corpses littered the bite mark, but it was better than Cat Food and a judgemental biscuit. Whether by fortune or misfortune, that question died as quick as it arrived along with the apple itself, it began to (Seemingly on cue) slowly roll away from the boy, soon finding itself moving just out of sight down what looked like a drainage pipe, leaving him to only sigh. “That answers that. Cat food it is then”
The water biscuit was out of the question as he would not tolerate it’s mocking antics anymore. The dice looked useful, he did need something to chuck at the birds who kept stealing his stuff and only his stuff, plus the sound they made when jiggling them in his hand was incredibly satisfying, they sort of reminded him of those Chinese stress balls his uncle used to have.
With a small jolt of sinister pleasure Jared placed his foot firmly on top of what was left of the water biscuit, making sure to properly ground his feet into the crumpling corpse. Soon after though he immediately had to stop and think about the fact that he had just carried out a vendetta against a biscuit. ”What’s wrong with me? I can’t let a stupid little biscuit get to me, no matter how judgemental. I am a rock. I AM A WALL”
He almost yelled that out loud, but managed to keep it to a low pathetic whimper. Immediately, his hand ducked down to scoop up the pair of dice and pocket them, it seemed like he might need to apply that ‘Stress Ball’ idea. The final item was the toothpaste, considering the state of the structure as whole the tube was in rather good condition, probably even full. Then again, what use would he have for toothpaste?
By now he was sure that his yellowing teeth were not salvageable and he doubted that anyone back at the camp were in a different position. Could it be counted as food? Decker used to eat toothpaste, but his mother made sure to bring that habit to an end with some rehabilitation (Via very cheap toothpaste), now he treats the stuff like that weird grey chocolate bar he found under the sink one time.
But Jared then decided to just take the paste anyway, it probably won’t help anybody, but it’d make him feel like he found more than one useful object. Yeah, two objects. That’s a number to feel pride in! Two… Uh… Better than one. But still not as good as three. And into his cramped pockets the tooth paste went.
He didn’t have any sort of watch on him so the only way to tell how long he’d spent moping was his own imagination “They’ve been gone for like… Days!” And if there was one thing Jared was good at, it was exaggeration.
“I mean; I could go look for them… But…” He glanced down the adjacent hallway, where the lights had continued to dim, every flicker sending him a feeling of ’I dare you’. “I need to find my testicles first” And the accompanying groan of complete disapproval and hunger only made the boy gulp. “I hope I find them before he does…” He stood still, waiting for the groan to come again, to make sure he wasn’t hearing voices in his head again. And- Yeah, that’s a zombie all right. Shit.
“And I’m gonna have to deal with it, ain’t I?” Jared looked over his shoulder where his hand lay, wrapped up in one of his old socks like a puppet (”Well, I can’t. I’m just a sock” Each breath I took forced Jared to get an intake of sweaty feet), a dumb, grizzled puppet. “Yeah, but you HAVE to come with me when I do it”
(My voice came out deeper than expected, rough, broken “I didn’t agree to that”)
“You don’t have a choice” Jared reminded the sock, using his free hand to take a knife from his belt and waddle forward at an achingly slow pace.
(I struggled at first “This is a kidnapping!” Some could say I had confidence problems)
“Yeah, and me without a jury to carry out the conviction” The sock was about to give a strongly worded response, but Jared buried the sock head in his armpit to shut the mouthy bugger up. Why did they have to leave him with the worst guy in the group? “Alright, less talky, more stabby the undead hobo” Shaking prior thoughts from his head, he felt the atmosphere grow colder as he skulked down the abandoned corridor, each groan of the metal made him fear the walls would give way at any moment.
I wonder why no one calls them zombies anymore The thought fired into his head at random, like a self-defence mechanism against his growing dread as the groans became louder. People go with ‘Walkers’, ‘Joggers’, ‘Undead’, ect. But no one ever calls them zombies anymore. I mean, that’s what they are right? Is everybody worried that the zombie lawyers are gonna sue them up the ass in copy right lawsuits in the apocalypse? Jared shook his head, sometimes he just couldn’t understand people.
Speaking of people, he realised that the groans had reached their peak in volume. As well as being accompanied by the sound of a rattling chain, and then a familiar thumping noise like someone was bashing their head against something hard. Jared was close, close enough to smell the rotten flesh, which also meant he was probably close enough to get jumped. I barely survived the last time, no thanks to Mr Sock for cowering in the corner.
His sock companion was silent at his mental jab, though whether the sock was ignoring him or was simply not telepathic, Jared couldn’t say. But poking his head around the corner, he could say that he was thirsty after laying his eyes upon the very full looking bottle of alcohol sitting on an old looking table (And that Mr Sock was so not getting any).
Unfortunately, this bottle was also next to the growling corpse that seemed exceedingly annoyed at the fact that it had been chained to the wall. “Urg… This means it’s time to try sweet talked. I hate social interaction” Jared muttered this under his breath, just because the corpse had no brain didn’t mean it couldn’t get hurt feelings. “Alright, Mr Sock. Stay quiet. Don’t want a repeat of the last guy we met when you insulted him”
(I only told him about the rumour of him preferring to spend his days with his knob balls deep in packaging long past it’s expiry date)
Ignore him, ignore him… Jared had that mantra for a while now, every time that damn sock ran it’s mouth. Which was a lot. Especially when he was nervous. But, swallowing his apprehension, Jared pushed on. He had a mission. A mission to get alcohol and hug it all to deal with his meaningless existence. “Ello, Chap. Can I call you Chap? I mean, I’ve already caught you in a compromising position, so I’d say we’re already fast friends” He bounded onwards, poking the walker’s chain with a coy wink “Things got a bit too kinky, ey?” The corpse did not seem amused, in fact it tried to snap at him. Rude.
“Alright, alright. I meant no harm by it, friend” Jared reached over and pulled up a chair on the other side of the table “Mind if I take a sip of your drink? What’s that?” He stoped for a moment, leaning in to listen to the enraged creature as it desperately struggled against it’s chain to try and bite the boy. “Ha! You’re mighty generous, Chap” Within moments the cap was off and Jared sighed in utter ecstasy as the cold embrace of the liquids light touch trailing down the inside of his throat. “Ooof, now that’s a drink. Got quite the-“ He used his free hand to form a fisting motion in the air “-umpf to it, eh?”
The ‘Chap’ merely pawed for Jared’s peachy, fragile, rippable flesh like an animal. In response, Jared nodded and offered the man some alcohol, pouring some of the contents over the corpse’s head. “There ya go. Nice and drunk. Hey, can your kind even get drunk?” The creature slumped forwards, trying everything in it’s power to get closer to Jared. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry for saying ‘your kind’. I was just curious”
(I opened my two-inch-wide mouth once more, I had to ask. Questions itched at my skin “Did you ask him if he likes sleeping with the dead?”)
“Nope”
(A ripped piece of fabric moved to whisper in his ear, still keeping my distance from the corpse. “Because maybe he likes sleeping with his own kind” Only to groan when Jared’s stomach growled. “You’re hungry already? You fat, man”)
“And you’re anorexic” Jared reached into his pocket, soon coming out with the tin of cat food he found earlier and placing it on the table. He instantly felt the Chap’s gaze. “I know what you’re thinking, and you can take that disgusted look off your face”
(“You’re gonna eat the cat food?” If I had a gag reflex, I would have gagged)
“Yes, I’m gonna eat the cat food” Before pulling on the tucked in segment of the lid, revealing what looked and smelled like a fresh batch of vomit. The smell in particular hitting like a hammer. “Because this isn’t cat food. This is a plate of spaghetti bollanaise. Fancy stuff. Great stuff” He sword, these two were getting more judgemental than the biscuit. “And it’s gonna taste good…” His fingers penetrated the soft, squidgy surface, gathering up the fatty material in his palm. “Great…” And with a wince and gulp, he scooped up the contents of the tin and forced it down his throat. “Amazing, in fact!”
And not even for one second could he even delude himself into believing it.