Post by ashestoApples on Sept 23, 2014 0:33:23 GMT -6
Eve was most certainly not okay right now.
At the moment, she knew, somehow, that she was moments away from death. She was faster than this corpse, smarter than this corpse, and had her piano strings and her knife, but she'd felt it for days. She wasn't going to live much longer.
Gasping for breath, she turned to see the corpse grab the end of her skirt. Eve involuntarily let out a scream. Though she hadn't eaten properly in weeks, she was able to use the adrenaline coursing through her veins to tear her way free, only for it to grab her hair. She drew her knife back and, with only a split second disappointment in cutting the long hair she'd managed to save this whole time, cut off her hair to just about her shoulders. She didn't get it all, and she knew what she did get was choppy and uneven, but she didn't have time to dwell on that right now. All she could do was force her aching, weary legs to run and her weak, tired lungs to keep pumping air. Her throat was on fire from her intake of the cold air that she'd been so unaccustomed to, and her mouth was so dry that she tried to spit out some dirt that had gotten into her mouth earlier only to to find she didn't even have spit to help it along. She knew she wouldn't make it much longer.
She was starting to slow down, beginning to estimate the number of breaths she had left when she saw smoke in the distance. A campfire.
She was inspired. Able to find her second - or, really, fourth or fifth - wind, she sped up immediately, avoiding the fingers of the corpse behind her just barely. She was out of the dark forest and into an open field. If she could just make it to that campfire...
She struggled through the bright light to enter the forest up ahead when she realized why it was so hard to shake them off.
There was a crowd following her. Not just one. In her fear to look behind her she hadn't realized that she'd accumulated a dozen stragglers in her run. All the more reason to make it to that campfi--
She was going to lead them right to a group of people. She couldn't do that! She couldn't bring death to people...!
"FRICK!" she yelled, still huffing and puffing. It was her only hope. She'd have to try to veer them off course and duck away to get there. Maybe they has guns and could help! If not, she guessed she'd just try to run away again.
She veered off toward the woods, dodging trees left and right before looking back to be sure the corpses were following her. They were a ways back now, thanks to her newfound speed, but she still had to get them off course enough to buy her some time.
She went through a tangle if branches, leaves and vines to make her way through a spot they hopefully couldn't see her before quickly veering around and, using the cover she had from the layer upon layer of leaves, made her way to the fire. Now that she was in the dark cover of the forest again, she could see light. So intent on making it to the fire that she lost track of her surroundings, Eve tripped over an exposed root and skinned her leg. Fresh blood! Just what she needed! Perfect, just perfect!
She scrambled over a tangle of roots and sprinted, breathing so loud that the corpses could probably hear her, and locked her eyes on the target before flicking them down to her feet and seeing, too late, a large rock that tripped her again. She fell on her face, straight into a creek bed. Her vision was blurry and her right eye was screaming in pain. Shaking, she got up on all fours and involuntarily whimpered as she reached a quivering hand up to her face and pulled it back to see a huge amount of blood. The groaning behind her was getting louder, and as she tried to open her right eye she found it was blinded by blood and it was agony to keep it open. She got up and scrambled toward the campfire.
If I can make it, I'll be safe. If I can make it, I could live. If I can make it, I'll be safe. If I can make it, I could live. Her inner mantra kept her going as she limped and scrambled through the forest. She was so close!
As she neared it, she started smiling in spite of her injuries, in spite of death waiting behind her and in spite of her low chances of survival. She daydreamed about guns, food, warmth, friendly people, open arms, safety, shelter...
When she got to the campfire, she cried openly. Tears dribbled lazily out of her hurt eye, and she cursed loudly through sobs. It was too late for these people. Innards we're spread across the ground, blood was on every stump, children were bloodied and missing facial features and limbs, and not a living creature was in sight. Her only hope... Her only possibility of survival...
She fell to her knees, completely overtaken by her emotional outburst and by her immense fatigue. How she even had tears on her face was beyond her. When she looked up she was looking at a sight so gruesome that she dry-heaved. The corpses were approaching and she was looking at a bloodied massacre. Was this what life was going to be for her if she lived?
She would never know.
In her sorrows, she hadn't noticed one of the corpses to her right moving toward her. It bit into her calf and she screamed in pain. It was too much- she'd lost too much blood, she'd been running too long, she was too dehydrated, too hungry, too tired.
She fell over instantly.
Eve didn't wake up until she was jostled awake by one of the undead- one of her own kind with a familiar face. She stood, noting with some of the last bits of her humanity that her arm and leg were nearly picked clean. Her last real human thought was a name, a single name from her past.
Pumpkin.
Her last real human action was reaching out and taking the corpse's hand. Past that, it was all groans and moans- but even though she was gone, deader than dead, some part of her found a happiness that she hadn't known in years.
Passer-bys referred to the two as "zombies in love." They chased few, rarely ate, and when stationary only looked at each other. Some swore they still had human thoughts, one insisted he'd seen the boy run a lazy hand through the girl's choppy, uneven hair. They were far gone, but since they were rarely a problem, they would live like this for quite some time. They became an urban legend on the west coast- the most odd thing anyone had ever seen. And though they were decaying, clumsy, weak and one was even half bone, it appeared, they looked to be the most content undead anyone who saw them had known.
Even though she'd lost and there was no way for her to come back, and eventually they both would die at the hand of the living, they felt that they had lived their entire lives just to shamble around, hand in hand.
She may have been gone, she may have been unrecognizable, but now that the running was over, now that she had found her pumpkin, Eve was most certainly okay right now.
At the moment, she knew, somehow, that she was moments away from death. She was faster than this corpse, smarter than this corpse, and had her piano strings and her knife, but she'd felt it for days. She wasn't going to live much longer.
Gasping for breath, she turned to see the corpse grab the end of her skirt. Eve involuntarily let out a scream. Though she hadn't eaten properly in weeks, she was able to use the adrenaline coursing through her veins to tear her way free, only for it to grab her hair. She drew her knife back and, with only a split second disappointment in cutting the long hair she'd managed to save this whole time, cut off her hair to just about her shoulders. She didn't get it all, and she knew what she did get was choppy and uneven, but she didn't have time to dwell on that right now. All she could do was force her aching, weary legs to run and her weak, tired lungs to keep pumping air. Her throat was on fire from her intake of the cold air that she'd been so unaccustomed to, and her mouth was so dry that she tried to spit out some dirt that had gotten into her mouth earlier only to to find she didn't even have spit to help it along. She knew she wouldn't make it much longer.
She was starting to slow down, beginning to estimate the number of breaths she had left when she saw smoke in the distance. A campfire.
She was inspired. Able to find her second - or, really, fourth or fifth - wind, she sped up immediately, avoiding the fingers of the corpse behind her just barely. She was out of the dark forest and into an open field. If she could just make it to that campfire...
She struggled through the bright light to enter the forest up ahead when she realized why it was so hard to shake them off.
There was a crowd following her. Not just one. In her fear to look behind her she hadn't realized that she'd accumulated a dozen stragglers in her run. All the more reason to make it to that campfi--
She was going to lead them right to a group of people. She couldn't do that! She couldn't bring death to people...!
"FRICK!" she yelled, still huffing and puffing. It was her only hope. She'd have to try to veer them off course and duck away to get there. Maybe they has guns and could help! If not, she guessed she'd just try to run away again.
She veered off toward the woods, dodging trees left and right before looking back to be sure the corpses were following her. They were a ways back now, thanks to her newfound speed, but she still had to get them off course enough to buy her some time.
She went through a tangle if branches, leaves and vines to make her way through a spot they hopefully couldn't see her before quickly veering around and, using the cover she had from the layer upon layer of leaves, made her way to the fire. Now that she was in the dark cover of the forest again, she could see light. So intent on making it to the fire that she lost track of her surroundings, Eve tripped over an exposed root and skinned her leg. Fresh blood! Just what she needed! Perfect, just perfect!
She scrambled over a tangle of roots and sprinted, breathing so loud that the corpses could probably hear her, and locked her eyes on the target before flicking them down to her feet and seeing, too late, a large rock that tripped her again. She fell on her face, straight into a creek bed. Her vision was blurry and her right eye was screaming in pain. Shaking, she got up on all fours and involuntarily whimpered as she reached a quivering hand up to her face and pulled it back to see a huge amount of blood. The groaning behind her was getting louder, and as she tried to open her right eye she found it was blinded by blood and it was agony to keep it open. She got up and scrambled toward the campfire.
If I can make it, I'll be safe. If I can make it, I could live. If I can make it, I'll be safe. If I can make it, I could live. Her inner mantra kept her going as she limped and scrambled through the forest. She was so close!
As she neared it, she started smiling in spite of her injuries, in spite of death waiting behind her and in spite of her low chances of survival. She daydreamed about guns, food, warmth, friendly people, open arms, safety, shelter...
When she got to the campfire, she cried openly. Tears dribbled lazily out of her hurt eye, and she cursed loudly through sobs. It was too late for these people. Innards we're spread across the ground, blood was on every stump, children were bloodied and missing facial features and limbs, and not a living creature was in sight. Her only hope... Her only possibility of survival...
She fell to her knees, completely overtaken by her emotional outburst and by her immense fatigue. How she even had tears on her face was beyond her. When she looked up she was looking at a sight so gruesome that she dry-heaved. The corpses were approaching and she was looking at a bloodied massacre. Was this what life was going to be for her if she lived?
She would never know.
In her sorrows, she hadn't noticed one of the corpses to her right moving toward her. It bit into her calf and she screamed in pain. It was too much- she'd lost too much blood, she'd been running too long, she was too dehydrated, too hungry, too tired.
She fell over instantly.
Eve didn't wake up until she was jostled awake by one of the undead- one of her own kind with a familiar face. She stood, noting with some of the last bits of her humanity that her arm and leg were nearly picked clean. Her last real human thought was a name, a single name from her past.
Pumpkin.
Her last real human action was reaching out and taking the corpse's hand. Past that, it was all groans and moans- but even though she was gone, deader than dead, some part of her found a happiness that she hadn't known in years.
Passer-bys referred to the two as "zombies in love." They chased few, rarely ate, and when stationary only looked at each other. Some swore they still had human thoughts, one insisted he'd seen the boy run a lazy hand through the girl's choppy, uneven hair. They were far gone, but since they were rarely a problem, they would live like this for quite some time. They became an urban legend on the west coast- the most odd thing anyone had ever seen. And though they were decaying, clumsy, weak and one was even half bone, it appeared, they looked to be the most content undead anyone who saw them had known.
Even though she'd lost and there was no way for her to come back, and eventually they both would die at the hand of the living, they felt that they had lived their entire lives just to shamble around, hand in hand.
She may have been gone, she may have been unrecognizable, but now that the running was over, now that she had found her pumpkin, Eve was most certainly okay right now.