LAST DAY: Girl 1

Hello all. Before this short story, I must apologize. I’ve not posted in the last couple of weeks because I had to proofread RED FIST for the final time, hopefully. And as we all know, life can get overwhelmingly busy sometimes. This is no excuse. If I want to be the best I can be, I must make time for all the things that will drive me towards greatness. By the way, RED FIST is still set to launch in September–fingers crossed. This is…something different. I hope you all like it.

She clutches the knife tighter and tighter as she cowers in the dark corner of the kitchen. I ran so much and so far and yet…

She hears a thump and clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle her squeal. She has nothing now, and no one can save her. The world is a total shit storm, and everyone just dies and withers away. The girl stands, her black hair falling over her face, covering her dark eyes that haven’t shut in days in fear of falling asleep. She slowly inches towards a wooden door a few feet away from her, not wanting the THINGS hearing her. CRACK! The door the girl pushed a chair against, on the other side of the kitchen rattles. She hears the calls and the howling. More screeches and heart-stopping wails of hunger from those THINGS make her blood run still. She runs for the door that will hopefully lead outside just as the one she had tried to secure flies off the hinges and the THINGS; five of them charge towards her. She throws the door open, slams it shut and proceeds out of another door, choking on the dusty air inside the narrow space. She grabs a shovel leaning on the wall of the house, and scrambles down a hill as the THINGS chase after her.

She doesn’t look back, and as much as she doesn’t want to go into the woods, it’s her only option.

She runs and runs and runs until her body can’t handle it anymore. She knows those THINGS could have captured her if they wanted. She collapses on the ground, mud staining her worn jeans. She notices the sun setting through the wiry branches of the trees and thinks, Why am I even trying to survive? Everyone else is gone. Why not me? I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being the only one. I’ll fight and die…

The girl stands, resolve coursing through her. She grips the shovel’s handle just as the first THING burst through to the clearing, snarling, it’s twisted, milky tan face with no distinct features but jagged teeth, grotesque. Ugly. The girl’s stomach churns. The girl wants to puke, but instead, she charges. The THING jumps over her and rams her in the back. She stumbles but does not fall. She waits and whirls around just as the THING is in midair, and smacks the shovel into its head or what she thinks is its head. It falls to the ground, squirming, its four scrawny legs with bony, hand-like claws twitching. She walks over to it and sees the faces of her loved ones: her little brother, her boyfriend, and her friends. In a rage, she jams the shovel into the THING’S body stabbing it over and over and over, taking all her pain and loss and grief out on it until she’s sure it’s dead. She yanks the shovel out of its body, a mucky sound coming with it. Clear, thick fluid drains from the THING’S wounds. She turns around, too late, too tired to fight back. Four of the THINGS pounce on her, tearing at her flesh, plucking out her bones, eating, gorging their bellies with her organs and one rips out her brain, swallowing it whole, and slurping at the grayish fluid in her skull. She didn’t even get a chance to scream.