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[Contest] Tell Me A Story For A Chance To Win ‘The Walking Dead – Episode 4’

With so many video games out right now, it’d be understandable if you haven’t yet had the chance to really dig into the fourth episode of Telltale Games’ The Walking Dead. With Episode 5 coming next week, time’s running out — fitting, since the fifth episode is dubbed No Time Left — for you to get caught up in time for the big finale. Because I’m madly in love with all of you and I believe in your ability to craft magical stories that whisk me away from this troubled world, I’ve decided to give out two XBLA download codes for the fourth episode. More after the jump.

All you have to do for a chance to win one of the two codes I’m giving away is comment on this post by Sunday (Nov 18) with a story fitting for the zombie apocalypse. If you need inspiration, just look at the banner above and imagine what stories that tired group of survivors would tell while sitting around the campfire. Ghost stories? Stories about their lives before the zombie apocalypse? It’s up to you.

Embrace your creative side, let your creative juices flow and run down your pizza sauce stained body and onto the comments section below. Make me proud.

Feel free to ever-so-gently toss Adam an email, or follow him on Twitter and Bloody Disgusting



  • TheEnd

    -A group of survivors share their life stories and memorable events while watching the day end-
    Life was great; I had a nice job, a wonderful little girl, a beautiful wife, and my life was worry-free. That was until this hell broke out on us.

    My family and I were heading to Atlanta. We heard all these stories about Atlanta, days after the infection hit. People said that Atlanta had food, shelter and was free from the dead. So we decided to check it out. 

    By the day’s end, we had silently packed all our things and were ready to go. But we decided to take shelter just for the night, because the walkers usually come out at this time.

    When we woke up, my wife and I realised that our daughter wasn’t in her bed or anywhere to be seen in the house. We decided that we must look for her around the city. We grabbed all of our supplies (in this case it was just a little pistol and some water).

    We started out at the park. We encountered some walkers, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We then checked out the school, but she wasn’t there either. It was getting late so we decided to go home.

    We realised that while we were searching, we had walked too far. It took us hours to get home.

    We were finally just minutes away from our house, when we saw something lying on the floor. We walked over to the object, only to realise it wasn’t an object…it was her.

    She was lying face first on the road. Still breathing. We were screaming in joy, not caring if any walkers could here us. We turned her over and her bright blue eyes stared at us with excitement. But then we noticed something odd on her arm, it looked like a bite mark.

    My wife and I didn’t know what to do. At first we panicked, and checked the mark on her arm to make sure it was a bite. It did look like one.

    My wife and I quickly knew what we had to do. And that we couldn’t help her anymore. I pulled out my gun… And pointed it to her forehead. But, i couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. I looked over at my wife, and saw her in tears.

    She told me that she has a better idea. She suggested that we take the pistol, and shoot ourselves…together as a family. I looked at her, thinking that she was crazy, but I then knew that anything would be better then killing our daughter, and living with it for the rest of our lives. So I agree’d.

    It was getting late and we heard noises nearby. We knew that we had to do it quickly.

    My wife took the pistol, pointed it to our daughter…and shot her. She then collapsed on her knees, and said that she wanted me to shoot her, as she didn’t have the power. 

    I took the pistol from her hands, pointed the gun to her head and shot her.

    I felt like a part of me just died inside. I could feel my insides burning, and my brain pounding and pushing against my skull. I took the pistol, and pointed it to my heart. I was just about to end my life, but I knew that atleast I could be with my family.

    I put my finger on the triggger, but just as I was about to shoot. I heard a scream. I looked over and saw a man, with a dog, standing beside my daughter. 

    “Why did you shoot her?” he asked.
    “She was bitten,” i replied.

    “My dog thought she was a walker, so he bit her. She wasn’t infected”
    My daughter’s name is Emma, and my wife’s name is Sharlotte. Wherever they are right now, I hope they’re happy.

  • Joey_Redballs

    Grandpa’s Butter Knife: One day, my dad showed me this completely rounded-off knife with pits and scratches all over it. It looked like a bizarre, giant butter knife. I asked my dad what it was. He said, “It’s was your Grandpa’s World War II combat knife. He had to use it to dig holes\trenches when the Nazis were firing mortars at them.” Whenever life presents a difficult challenge, I remember Grandpa’s “butter knife”, and think to myself: if that man can persevere that challenge, and 25% of him is in me, than surely I can persevere this challenge. [true story]

  • TheDeadman19

    How could they stand this?
    She wasn’t talking about these things outside her window, moving around in endless circles. Trying to find something to feast upon, killing everyone who had once lived in that small town she called home. No, she could live with those things. On some days, they were even gone. And if they were there, she could hide.
    She didn’t think that they had seen her, yet. But the danger of discovery was always there. Drilling itself in her mind.
    “Tomorrow they’ll find out. There’s nothing you can do.”
    Then she would cover her ears and moan softly. Thinking about happier times. When she still had a family.

    Someone to love, someone to take care off her.
    No, the worst thing was the smell. The smell was everywhere. In every room, every minute of the day. When the sun rose in the morning, the smell of burning flesh, rotten meat and old shit was already etched in her brain. It drove her insane. More insane that she already was.
    “Hadn’t she . . .?”
    No, this was not the time to think about what she had done in the last few weeks.
    She kept telling herself:
    “It’ll all be over soon. Someone is coming of us. Soon they’ll be here. Rescue us and make all the bad things out there go away.”
    But on some days, that didn’t help that much.
    Being locked in a house, with the body parts and this horrible smell can fuck the most sane and calm person up beyond recognition. But she was still herself for the most part. But for how long? For how much longer could she stand the fear of being killed by someone she had known? When would she run out of food and had to start eating the limbs that covered the floor of an entire room? She hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but she was running low on food, couldn’t get out to find more, had locked herself away in her panic when they came and killed everyone in their small group?
    She closed her eyes, hoping that this was all over in the morning, maybe just some fucked up nightmare.

    When the sun rose the next morning, she found out that it wasn’t. Still real. Very real. Those things outside her window were moving around hectically. Looking for something to kill. They got restless very fast. Their lust for blood never ended. And it dawned on her, that she might be the only thing left to kill in this town.
    She crawled over the floor to avoid detection. When she reached her food supply, she discovered, that everything was rotten. How long did she rest? How long since she last ate?
    A feeling of hopelessness sunk so deep in her mind, and her brain shut off. She didn’t want to eat the limbs. Couldn’t. Only one thing left to do now. She was hungry. So hungry. Shadow people moved around the edges of her vision. Depression. Suddenly, she felt helpless. Couldn’t do a damn thing in here. Only waiting. Waiting for her death. The thought she had convinced herself of in the last weeks, that help would come. It was gone. No one would come for her.
    No one knew that she was still alive.
    Her parents were dead. That hit her with a force so strong, that tears immediately started rolling down her dirty cheeks. They were dead. She had killed them herself. But . . . but she had to do it. They wanted to hurt her. Kill her. Like the other people they had killed. She had seen it with her own eyes.
    The guy who worked at the store came to their door one day, and the mother had just shot him. Didn’t even say a word.
    And the expression she saw in her mother’s eyes made her do it.
    Her mother was gone. The lust to kill had gotten to her too.
    So that little girl had hugged her teddy harder and left the room she had been hiding for days.
    Slowly, she had snuck up behind her mother and bit her. First the leg to make her fall over. And when her head had hit the ground, she sunk her teeth in her mother’s neck, ripping it open and covering herself in the warm blood.

    She pushed the thought out of her head. Her mother was gone, her father, too. Even teddy had left her. No one left to take care of her.

    She little girl got to her feet and opened the door.
    A shower of sunlight covered her entire body and she closed her eyes.

    Someone screamed:
    “There’s another one! Kill her”

    The bullet, fired by the man who picked up their trash, hit her right between the eyes.
    The girl, not a day older than 8, bitten her older brother on the 5th day of the outbreak fell over dead, her brains splattered on the door to the house she had lived in with her parents all her life.

    [I don’t want no prize, I’m just in for the fun]

  • Evil_Flip

    I actually have a real zombi story. Once I was sitting in my car at an intersection surrounded by farmland waiting for another car to pass. When suddenly I heard multiple moans coming from my right. I almost choked on my coffee when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a whole horde of undead approaching through the corn. My heart stopped and when I turned to get a better look it turned out that the local down-syndromers were having a field day. lol. Those are the days you realize you’ve seen way to many horror movies.

  • SelfishMan912

    I wish we were all born with expiration dates.

    I’m not afraid of death, it’s a natural progression from one form of life to another. Besides, who knows? Maybe all those preachers and prophets and people who dance with snakes whilst transcending to a higher state of consciousness where they’re one with “god” actually had the right ideas, and we were just too tangled up in our social media and reality television shows to actually stop for a second, look around, and see the bigger picture that was placed right in front of our faces.

    Notice the sarcastic quotation marks around the word “god”. That’s certainly a hot topic these days; on one end you have the non-believers who view this whole zombie apocalypse thing as our generation’s great plague. They talk about how, centuries from now, there will be fifteen year olds sitting in history class studying bland paragraphs about what we’re living through right now. Even when we die, we’ll live on through these texts. They’ll dedicate a day to honoring all those men, women, and children who lost their lives. They’ll throw a parade for us, because nothing quite represents the pain and sorrow of seeing your loved ones grow ill and die only to be brought back as ravenous, flesh-hungry beasts whom immediately gets the pleasure of a hot shard of lead through their brain, quite like a gigantic floating cartoon character gliding down crowded city streets. Take my word on this: one way or another, years from now, zombies will still exist.

    Then, there are the believers who take all this as a sign that we’ve disappointed their ever-forgiving “god” to the point that he finally decided we weren’t worth his time anymore. They raise their hopeful faces to the sky and repent for every sin they ever committed, from adultery to jay-walking. They sit in circles at night and read bible passages out loud to one another, and attempt to tie our current situation to a paragraph some unknown man wrote down eons ago. They’re about as graceful with it as a two year old trying to fire a shotgun at a horde of steadily approaching undead. Thinking about it, they’re quite similar. I try to stay away from these people.

    I was lucky enough to find a small group of level headed people that I can trust to have my back whenever another bucket of shit hits the metaphorical fan. Some of them never had a family. They’re used to relying strictly on themselves when things get bad, and when they need something done, they get off their ass and get it done. Some of the others lost the people closest to them before the outbreak. They consider themselves lucky (although they never outright admit it). Sometimes, after an especially exhausting day of scavenging and coming back empty handed, they’ll sulk and start opening themselves up a bit. They wonder if the people they lost before the outbreak were brought back inside their graves, scratching away at the lid of a rotted wooden casket six feet underground. I envy all these people.

    It was just me and my mother for a while, until she got bitten while trying to raid a house for anything eatable; Not for her, she would only ever eat if she was on the brink of collapsing from the sheer lack of nutrients needed to keep her body moving. She would set out a can of whatever in front of me, smile, and politely decline the tiniest portion I offered to her, saying she wasn’t hungry. I always knew she was lying, but short of holding her down and force feeding her, there was nothing that I could do. Being only twelve years old and about 110lbs, that option was out the window.

    I remember struggling to hold the .44 caliber handgun while simultaneously trying to wipe the tears and snot from my face as she sat in the corner of the attic we were held up in, slowly losing her grasp on reality. She looked at me and smiled; even when things looked the worst, she would always look at me, smile, and reassure me that everything would be alright. She would be there. She would protect me from the monsters. I never thought she would end up becoming what she had protected me from for so long. It only took her about 6 minutes to turn after she took her final breath. This was the first time I fired a gun in my life. This is also the exact moment I thought that we should have all been born with expiration dates.

    Like I said before, death doesn’t scare me. Uncertainty scares me. The reason death is always so emotional and sad is because it comes from no where, with no warning. Funerals were supposed to provide us with some closure, but all it did was make us regret every little thing we never said or did with that person. Imagine if you knew from the day you were born the date and time you would die. Sure, some might become depressed knowing exactly when they’d meet their end, but I think most of us would accept it and use it to our advantage. We’d strike up conversations about it, laugh when we met other people who shared a similar death time, get to schedule everything we ever wanted to do so that we would stop procrastinating at achieving happiness. Instead of funerals, we would have parties for the person, and the guest of honor would be smiling and laughing as they remembered how fulfilling it was to have truly lived and, finally, at the end, they would give a speech to everyone in the room, thanking them for making their time here all that they ever wanted it to be.

    No regrets.

    It’s been two years since my mother passed, and the people who saved me from that attic have since become family to me. They motivated me to grow stronger, get better with weapons and scavenging. They compliment me every now and again as to how I’m growing into a strong man and how I haven’t let the stinking state of the world shake my composure. Still, every morning, when getting dressed and ready to go out and risk my life in this infested world for the people I care about, I check my body thoroughly, hoping that one of these days I’ll find a date and time magically engraved into my skin.

  • Kristofer

    It started with what was just on the news, escalating quickly to the city being completely barricaded off. The sirens keeping our minds up at night. Promises of safety came and went, but our lack of knowledge at the time meant reinfection was still prominent. In such a large city, keeping the biters out wasn’t as hard as anticipating who was gonna drop next… After we figured out that we all come back as those things, elderly were locked up, along with hospitals and the constraints of society started to crumble. At first it was all the electronics, not gonna lie. I took what I could. It was like a bizarre dream at first, until it all became too real. But after biters had started wandering into nearby Walmart’s the realization of survival suddenly became apparent. But food was already scarce for those too late, some fled the city in an attempt of rescue, until the gates were swarmed and we became overrun. We made ourselves a nice easy target, all huddled up in a corner with no way out. Like a cat and mouse, they were the predators and we were the prey. The new majority ruled now. And boy do those things never get enough, they just eat and eat and never get famished. until their stomachs give way and it all just comes bursting out. Only for them to start eating it again from their own stomachs. A never ending cycle. Luckily I guess I don’t have any family, my mother passing away last year, father never being present after my birth. After dipping into the last of our supply’s and seeing all hotel’s and any other sky risebuikding being overrun by biters with no way down and out. The last of me and my co-workers, Jasmine and Frank took refuge at the nearby zoo which was left vacant,  letting the animals out to roam free. We placed ourselves in cages as the food chain in society had changed, and now we were in cages. We killed walkers at the gates, never letting them get too high so they could ever tumble over, but just enough so the odor kept us camouflaged from the rest, nice and hidden. Until I realized I was better on the outside then I was in there… With Frank, he had a weird sexual fetish for these things. At work he was always so quiet and shy, around ten years older than me. Thirty five I’d guess, glasses, around a hundred kilos and a prominent bald patch. First it was hands, then feet. He’d cut them off and collect them in his cage, making what seemed to be “Art” out of them. The both of us were so uncomfortable, he said it was just research. Until Jasmine disappeared, I thought she fled. She was afraid of Frank, but I was so desperate just to remain safe and stable until help arrived. So I went to find Frank, and there she was, her pale naked skin body and bruised neck struggling to move around on the ground as she remained restrained to the floor.  Muffled growls was all that came out, her mouth sewn shut with wire. Her hands binded by chains concreted into the ground for the animals. He was laying beside her naked, brushing her face gently. And the words that came from his mouth were the final realization that this wasn’t about protecting myself physically anymore, but mentally. “She’s not fighting against me anymore, she’s fighting for me.”
    The biggest smile on his face ever, he drew closer to her. As she grew more restless her muffled growls got louder.

    “She’s perfect now.”

    Leaning in, he kisses on her sewn lips. As she rips them from the sewn wire, and bites into his bottom lip, pulling down, taking all of his bottom lip with her. His screams of agony and some what disbelief filling the room. I backed out, and barricaded the door. And nine hours later, the banging stopped. And the next day it started again, but this time there was growling.

    Out of three of us held up in that zoo, I was the last one left. A middle class white girl originally from Brooklyn, Amber Frey. there was no wayout. Until the street lights stopped turning on at night. Constantly keeping me awake when I slept out in the stars at night, the city had no power coming to it. So I built a ladder to the top of the fence, I walked along it. Reaching  the nearest electricity pole and crawled all along the two electric wires all the way out to the city, I slept across them at night, making sure they were disconnected at the box after a good observation. I crawled and crawled, walkers in the thousands following beneath me. I made my way all around the city into different buildings for different resources, until I decided to leave. I jumped over the lowest barricade closest to the electricity pole, and I ran, and ran. Then I walked, and then I dragged myself. But I never stopped, not until I found this camp. My new new hope.

    The end.

  • silent_weasal

    It’s 12:15.
    That’s what the clock says.
    It said that yesterday.
    It said that a week ago
    It said that an hour ago.
    He said he would be back by 1:00.

    I miss the ticking. I hated it. But it was distracting. It helped me forget what was outside. To not hear them. They are always there. They are always waiting. They are always hunger, too.

    The rats don’t come by anymore. They use to come by a lot. Those were good times. The smell use to attract them. I even leave some of their leftovers out to entice them. But they don’t come. Maybe it’s for the best. I shouldn’t ruin my appetite.

    We should have got a bigger apartment. A big apartment would have more rooms. It wouldn’t have to be in here with me. It wouldn’t stare at me.

    It was pretty once. I remember. I think I remember. But I am not sure anymore. It must have been pretty. Why else would he want to keep it? It doesn’t like the chains. I like that.

    It seems upset. Good. It was a thief. A thief should be in chains. He was mine first, and it tried to take him from me. But he will come back for me. Only 45 more minutes and he will come home with dinner.


    How does it even see? Its eyes are like that old dog down the hall. It was a nice dog. Would have been better company. Would be a better meal. No. I have to wait.

    Where’s its nose? Did it eat its nose. No. There it is on the floor. Did that hurt it? I hope so. It keeps me up with its moaning.

    I can barely see the bite mark on its arm now. Not me, no. Just one bite. When was that? I’m not sure. I think that was at 12:15. It was always ugly. Not as bloated. Not as rotted. He’ll see that when he gets back. He will she that I was right. It never belonged with us. It was never Mom.

    I miss her. I don’t miss the fighting. They always fought. But they would tell me it was alright. She would hold me. He would put his hand on my head. I wasn’t alone. It wasn’t there. Then it was. Then she left.

    Why does it keep staring at me!? No matter where I move. Its eyes. It doesn’t need eyes. It doesn’t need its nose. It doesn’t need eyes.

    If I take the fork. I just need to be fast. He’ll thank me. He’ll see what I’ve done and we’ll laugh. After we’ll eat. And… and go see Mom. I just need those eyes. If I take those eyes everything will be alright. He’ll come back. They won’t be outside anymore. And everything will be like it use to be before it came.

    I just need to … “NO!”

  • aus10

    Once there was this kid who got into an accident and couldn’t come to school. But when he finally came back, his hair had turned from black into bright white. He said that it was from when the cars had smashed him so hard. Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm.

  • BornVillian

    The last two humans on Earth are sheltered in a windowless room with one door. One blows his brains out with a gun. The second person puts the gun in their mouth. Their finger hugs the trigger.

    Suddenly there is a knocking on the door. A distinct civilized knock. The man dies of a heart attack. The fear of the unknown killed him.

  • BornVillian

    I. Cold Boom

    It was a dark bitter night like none other before, the cool cold wind chilled under my door.

    I burrowed in my nest like every night before, but something felt different that i just couldn’t ignore.

    The ice cold air had risen to my neck, I turned to my side and continued my rest.

    As I laid awake, eyes closed with thought.

    I shivered in my pillow like a wee little tot.

    Then came the BOOM that started it all,

    I thought nothing of it and reached for my doll.

    So at peace and ready to sleep, I closed my eyes and counted sheep.

    One, two, three, four,

    I can feel the air from under my door.

    I’ll try again to clear my mind,

    Although that Boom still lingered inside.

    One, Boom, There it was again. This one was louder, much louder than before.

    Seconds later the noise would rise,

    sirens, helicopters, and crashing cars collide.

    I thought nothing of it, that was just life.

    Crimes, accidents, people just die.

    The noise was there but mind was not.

    What was I doing? My thoughts aren’t clear.

    Was I counting sheep or were they deer?

    Again the air shivered my spine,

    never have I felt a touch that was so kind.

    Nom Nom Nom it put me at ease, closing my eyes my mind was at rest.

    I curled into a ball, knees against my chest.

    It was a dark bitter night like none other before, the cool cold wind chilled under my door.

    I burrowed in my nest like every night before, but something felt different that i just couldn’t ignore.

    I grabbed my blankies and formed a cocoon,

    my doll laid there next to me eyes with bloom.

    Such an expressive look for a noble doll Something I noticed with a little awe.

    It stared at me, I stared at it,

    It looked at me, I looked at it.

    Did it just smile? I need my rest.

    My mind is weak in this late night bliss.

    The Booms were there but I didn’t care,

    the chill from the cool cold air raised my hair.

    This never ending night is about to end, I closed my eyes and dreamt of rest.

    It was a dark bitter night like none other before, the cool cold wind chilled under my door.

    I burrowed in my nest like every night before, but something felt different that i just couldn’t ignore.

    I took a deep breath and claimed my rest. Nom Nom Nom it was for the best.

    II. Mr. Handy Man

    I awoke the next morning tired and groggy,

    My eyes with crust and voice sounding froggy.

    I got my rest at long last, last. I wonder what happened with the Boom last night, last.

    It was odd of me to care of such an event,

    but these first few thoughts led to my descent.

    It was odd that I didn’t care before,

    but now it seems I care more and more.

    I opened my laptop and checked the news,

    typed in the word ” The big loud Boom.”

    This was odd not a single mention,

    The page hadn’t been updated since yesterdays interventions.

    I laced my shoes and tied them tight,

    looked into the mirror into my bright blue eyes.

    brushed my teeth and combed my hair,

    Opened the door and smelt the cool cold air.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine,

    I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

    It sounded so loud in the endless void,

    where was the sound and where was the noise?

    I walked down the street destruction all around.

    I still couldn’t find that wee little sound.

    Boom it went in the dead of night,

    most woke up but I slept with fright.

    Bodies and blood covered the streets,

    the destruction all around i couldn’t believe.

    My Boom was too small to complete such a feat.

    Other’s Booms must have done this mischievous deed.

    I smelt the air, it reeked of blood.

    just like gummy bears, pizza and mud.

    There it was, the end of my street.

    The Boom around the corner we will finally meet.

    Nothing but a crater ten yards deep.

    I peered inside even though I wanted to leap.

    The darkness called into my soul.

    What could’ve done this? Certainly not a mole.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine,

    I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

    It sounded so loud in the endless void,

    Where was the sound and where was the noise?

    Was I alone? Had the apocalypse come?

    What had I done? My time here was fun.

    “Hello” I screamed at the top of my lungs

    No reply, the devil had won.

    I was alone or so I thought,

    It wasn’t until I heard that sound I never forgot.

    It was a moan, someone in pain.

    I dashed to the site where someone was slain.

    His body was twisted but still he moved,

    covered in blood disgustingly in the nude.

    The trail of blood had led from his car.

    I heard the crash, i don’t live that far.

    He crawled towards me, arms reaching far.

    I stepped backwards like a prisoner of war.

    For a second I froze as his eyes looked at me,

    not a sound was present but I couldn’t flee.

    “Are you okay?” I said with haste.

    He said nothing and looked at my face.

    “I’ll get some help!” I said next, “Don’t worry I know whats best.”

    He moaned at me. I looked at him.

    He moaned at me. I looked at him.

    “I’ll be back, just stay and rest. You’re in pain,

    I’m going to my nest.”

    He moaned at me. I looked at him.

    He moaned at me. I looked at him.

    Never had I seen such a face full of death.

    I did not know what to do but return to my nest.

    I ran quick and jumped the fence,

    into my room my mind grew tense.

    I grabbed my phone and dialed 911

    No one answered, what had been done?

    That man needed help even though his life was lost. But there was no one there but me, my fear, and that cool cold mountain frost.

    I need to go back and save his life,

    Find a way and contact his wife.

    He is not long for this world, he should be at peace.

    And be with the ones he loves at least.

    I ran to the site but there was no man.

    His body was gone but he left a hand.

    Fingers still twitching like a doll,

    “Hello!” I shouted and that was my call.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine,

    I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

    It sounded so loud in the endless void,

    Where was the sound and where was the noise?

    Around my ankles slimy and wet,

    I felt something grab me like we first met.

    Before I looked I heard a moan,

    A moan that I had known for much to long.

    There he was, Mr. Handy Man, eyes so dark.

    Filled with sorrow, blood and guts.

    He moaned at me. I looked at him.

    He moaned at me. I looked at him.

    He lunged at my leg as in trying to bite,

    All I wanted was to help and all he wanted was to fight.

    I backed away fearing for my life,

    He looked at me and I started to cry.

    “I’m sorry sir but you’re on your own.”

    All he did was look back and moan.

    I gathered my tears and headed home,

    But on the way discovered a bone.

    A bone that had a friend of its own,

    A friend who looked a lot like Mr. Handy Man eating his bone as his own.

    “Who are you? Do you Know Mr. Handy?” I said with fear. He looked at me and I started to tear.

    His face was the same all sad and a mess.

    I should just leave it might be for the best.

    I walked away but followed on.

    Walking and stalking like I was a honey bun.

    “Go away! I don’t want to be your friend!”

    But he just moaned and continued this trend.

    I closed my fence and locked my door,

    But those moans were out there, this time more.

    Through the curtains I could see them more and more friends of Mr. Handy wanting to come in.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine,

    I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

    It sounded so loud in the endless void,

    What was the sound and where was the noise?

    Something was different, not like before.

    There was more noise, more moans, more more.

    Then I heard a scream, not like the moans.

    I looked outside to see what had gone on.

    A girl about my age had tripped and fell.

    Well my friends ate her , I couldn’t stand the smell. Something was wrong I’m scared and cold.

    I spent the next day’s watching her body grow mold.

    She looked at me. I looked at her.

    She looked at me. I looked at her.

    Did she just smile? I need to eat

    She looked at me.

    With each day past more friends came knocking.

    They wanted in so bad they started flocking.

    A week had past and I lost all hope,

    until i heard a Boom that gave me hope.

    Seven I counted seven Booms.

    Seven for the heavily seven goons.

    Goons that’s what I decided to call them.

    I thought they were friends but they were just goons.

    A Boom started it all,

    A Boom ended it all,

    How poetic is that?

    “Oh thank you, Oh thank you Oh Boom.”

    “Hello? Hello is someone there?”

    What’s this a voice, not of my own.

    A voice that here calls at my home.

    My mind is lost in weary though,

    Should I answer or should I not?

    “Is someone there? We heard a voice?”

    The deep dark voice said with boast.

    “We’re about to leave, so come out now.”

    I ran to the door and took my bow.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine,

    I needed it no more, this was no comfort of mine.

    III. My First

    I was lucky to find my new friends,

    They thought me how to survive and fend.

    It was just us five,

    us five and them.

    Them, the goons they followed us round,

    All we wanted to do was leave this town.

    We traveled in a pack just like them.

    Them, the goons once were men.

    We gathered food when we could.

    Told stories to lighten the mood.

    The lights went out nights before.

    It just helped echo the moans and roars.

    Today was Tuesday, Tuesday I think,

    It didn’t matter it was my turn to lead.

    We took turns finding food,

    Gotta stay focused, can’t do it in this mood.

    Focus is key with Goons all around,

    They multiply like locust in this dying town.

    One bite and your gone,

    One bite and your goon.

    I had never killed one before,

    I might today, maybe even more.

    I’ve been lucky to never spot one alone,

    But you can hear them coming by their moan.

    I packed my bag and grabbed my light.

    My friends had guns but I had a knife.

    Bullets are loud, attract the gooners.

    Knifes are quite, deadly and silent.

    Western’s Shopping mart, that was my mark.

    I traveled my foot and stayed in the dark.

    Silent like a ninja, eyes like a hawk.

    jumped the back fence onto the dock.

    The loading doors were thick, loud and metal.

    Would make much noise just like a tea kettle.

    There must be another way that’s quiet and quick. Let me just think and use my wit.

    Maybe the side? Oh yes! the vents!

    The vents on the roof, the vent to the left.

    I climbed the roof and lowered my guard,

    And saw a goon who smelt of lard.

    I was high. He was low.

    He couldn’t reach me but he didn’t know.

    He clawed at the wall reaching up tall.

    The only way he’d get me was if I’d fall.

    He was low. I was high.

    Into the vent I went,

    I bent because of the dent.

    It hurt my neck a little,

    but it was just to belittle.

    So much food. Stocked wall to wall.

    I can’t believe this! I had to call.

    A call a day that’s all we were allowed.

    In case of trouble we used our cells.

    “Come here quick!” I shouted with glee.

    “There’s enough food here to last us for weeks.”

    This place was perfect full of food,

    this made me happy and upped my mood.

    Boom! went the shutter door.

    It took me by surprise, my food fell to the floor

    It was the goon who saw me before.

    If I didn’t do something there surely be more.

    Boom! Boom! Boom! It kept banging.

    Each Boom! closer to leaving my fate hanging.

    I had to do something and act fast now.

    I grabbed my knife and took my bow.

    This would be my first, My first goon kill.

    My friends did the rest, I could never kill.

    They were just goons, goons who were tools.

    Tools who did the work of the dark side of the moon.

    I raised the shutter slow and steady,

    There stood my foe fierce and ready.

    He moaned at me, I moaned at him.

    I didn’t care to respect the goons anymore.

    He lunged at me and I ducked beneath.

    I dug my knife into his knee. He dropped to the floor moaning once more.

    I looked at him. He looked at me.

    I stabbed his head and killed him once more.

    I looked at him. Eyes still opened he looked at me.

    I was lucky to find my new friends,

    They thought me how to survive and fend.

    It was just us five,

    us five and them.

    Them, the goons they followed us round,

    All we wanted to do was leave this town.

    We traveled in a pack just like them.

    Them, the goons once were men.

    IV. Home Sweet Home

    I learned a lot in the passing months,

    Like what were up against and what helps me sleep.

    This thing is bigger than we’ll never know. And the effects are starting to show.

    They would die but wouldn’t stay dead,

    All you had to do was get them in the head.

    If you died you became one of them,

    Them, the goons once were men.

    Zombies, walkers, goons or beast.

    These are the names we had for them at least.

    Goons, that’s what they were to me.

    Nothing but goons who wanted to sting me like a bee.

    We’re low on food and growing weak,

    We need to leave our hope is bleak.

    Boom! Boom! Boom! The shutter bangs loud.

    They know were hear, we must quite down.

    Humans we are, gentle and weak.

    Hanging our heads in bitter defeat.

    We cant fight forever there must be a cure.

    We will find it no matter what we endure.

    My friend and I, two of us left.

    One of them died and two of them left.

    They didn’t say why or even try,

    But I didn’t care, I wouldn’t cry.

    We packed our bags and met the test,

    The test of surviving whatever’s left.

    Whatever is left of human kind,

    stands behind the shutter line.

    We climbed the vents onto the roof,

    They didn’t see us like a magic poof.

    Down the side and towards the road,

    We made a run with our heavy load.

    Where to next? We didn’t know.

    The air grew cold, it was about to snow.

    We needed shelter, and shelter fast.

    I’ll need to think hard or it’ll be my last.

    The streets are clear, thats a relief.

    Where should we go? The church of belief?

    Big heavy doors, taking in the poor.

    Poor we are, to the very core.

    My friend and I, two of us left.

    One of them died and two of them left.

    They didn’t say why or even try,

    But I didnt care, I wouldnt cry.

    The clouds were dark over head.

    Dark like the shadows under my bed.

    Quite and quick, thats the plan.

    We looked up ahead, there stood a man.

    A man at first i thought at least,

    A goon he was when he showed his teeth.

    I grabbed my knife but than a Boom!

    My friend had shot that silly goon.

    This was bad, bad indeed.

    Where could we go in our time of need?

    Goons all around, drawn from the sound.

    We needed to hide now or risk being found.

    Into a house we ran in so fast,

    My friend went first and I went last.

    We closed the windows and shut the blinds,

    We searched the house to see what we could find.

    I went left, she went right,

    into the dark, into the light.

    We saw no food, we saw no might,

    All saw was that our two friends had died.

    Blood all around, Blood on the ground.

    Blood from their head, Blood that meant dead.

    They took their life, i dont know why,

    I had to leave, I just might cry.

    It took time but I got over their Boom,

    We spent the night and slept in the room.

    What had happened? When will this end?

    I had to survive, I had to fend.

    It was a dark bitter night like none other before, the cool cold wind chilled under my door.

    I burrowed in my nest like every night before, but something felt different that i just couldnt ignore.

    V. My Friend

    The morning sun had met my blinds.

    Shining in on my bright blue eyes.

    We survived the night but not the mare.

    I grabbed my knife and went down the stairs.

    My friend was gone, she wasn’t here,

    I looked outside and found my mare.

    On the ground ripped apart,

    like a big tasty cherry tart.

    I looked at her. She had no face.

    I looked at her. She was all over the place.

    Her stuff was here, not out there.

    She had done this herself, she didnt care.

    I searched her stuff and searched it deep.

    I found a note that was written for me.

    It was signed Friend at 7:03.

    I couldnt believe this had happened to me.

    I was alone again, no friends in site.

    What to do? Give up or fight?

    I opened the note and read its will.

    “Im sorry. Im so sorry. No matter what has happened know that you were my friend. Im so sorry. I had to do this…..I couldn’t live like this anymore. We spent three months moving back and forth making our way……but for how long were we going to do this? there is no hope, there is no cure.

    All hope died when our friend died because of one of us. A human. Not a “goon” but a human. Those psychos shot him, shot him like a “goon.” And they knew he was one of us.

    Take my stuff and use it to survive. Send me a letter when this is all gone……….

    You’re stronger my friend. Stronger than I’ll ever be. Do not take the easy way out like I am.

    When the world became a free for all I lost all hope. I don’t want to spend my life like this. I just want it to end and I can only think of one way to make that happen. I wish you the best of luck my friend. I hope to see you again someday. I hope my gunshot doesnt wake you up. I’m going to do it in the backyard. Please don’t look.

    Good Bye My Friend ”

    There never was a Boom.

    My friend and I, two of us………

    They’re all dead. I’m all that’s left.

    VI. Chill

    It started snowing in wake of her death.

    The air was so cold I could see my own breath.

    I went to bed to get my rest,

    I was a good friend. i did my best.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine.

    Oh how I missed this comfort of mine.

    VII. A Midwinter Night’s Dream

    It was the same every night,

    Just to sleep I had to fight.

    The dreams didnt come easy and when they did.

    They were ones that I’d like to get rid.

    The goons were there but I didn’t care,

    the chill from the cool cold air raised my hair.

    This never ending night is about to end, I closed my eyes and dreamt of rest.

    In my dreams I dreamt of then,

    then before this world came to an end.

    So colorful, bright and happy.

    Spending my days with my mom and pappy.

    It gave me hope and something to believe,

    It eased my stress and made me relieved.

    These little dreams were worth what came next.

    My dreams turned real and became distress.

    Happy to sad in such an instance.

    Life to death is quite the distance.

    They were there in my dreams,

    The goons had won, it had seem.

    I woke up sweating at this point.

    But it was worth it for the hope and joy.

    Just a second before the goons,

    The second of hope that comforted my doom.

    Maybe this was all a dream, maybe I’ll wake up.

    Maybe I’ll skip the Boom that messed this all up.

    I’ve got to hope, it’s all I got,

    I’ve done everything, I’ve fought and fought.

    I lay in this bed shivering cold.

    Cover my head and do what I was told.

    Told to survive by my very last friend,

    I’ll do anything not meet my end.

    I closed my eyes and could hear the moans,

    nothing could stop it inside of this home.

    Some were quite, some were loud,

    But all of them were violent silent or loud.

    They acted as an alarm,

    keeping me informed,

    Always on my guard,

    Ready to run.

    Tonight was better, better than before.

    Not as loud or as violent to the core.

    They were moving, moving away.

    And so should I, I couldn’t stay.

    Maybe there was life, life in another town.

    Where kings and queens ruled with golden crowns.

    I could find a way, But here I’ll never stay. Get rid of the goons once and for all.

    I said this every night before sleep,

    Clearing my mind with a gentle sweep.

    Repeating the pattern of my dreams,

    I’ll be awake again soon it seems.

    VIII. Snow

    It snowed again the following morning,

    Followed by rain it was really pouring.

    Today was the day, the day I left,

    I grabbed my knife and did what was best.

    I looked outside and saw the mess,

    The mess that kept me from a good nights rest.

    There they were my friends the goons.

    Walking the streets at the stroke of noon.

    The snow was loud under my feet,

    But the rain was louder like a black hawk fleet.

    I ran and ran, as fast as I could.

    i ran so fast I put on my hood.

    The air was cold past my ears,

    They froze so much I couldnt hear.

    The day had come, I made a run.

    The run of my life, for my life begun.

    I ran for a day without stop.

    I killed several goons, one was a cop.

    Covered in blood, I needed a bath.

    I found a shower and faced it wrath.

    The warm water felt good in this frozen climate.

    I found the heat and it found me.

    Another two days past before I left this camp.

    I left with hope and a shot of glee.

    I saw some goons who then saw me.

    I was about to run but I didn’t flee.

    They stood in place looking on.

    I waved at them and carried on.

    The ice froze cold at their feet.

    Keeping them in place, they were beat.

    I strolled on down the last road in town,

    Feeling like a queen claiming my crown

    Leaving city limits it said on sign.

    Leaving my town felt like a crime.

    Goodbye my life, we had it well.

    If you find your way please do tell.

    I grabbed a pen and wrote a note.

    I left it on the city post.

    It was short and not too long,

    It was honest and not at all wrong.

    “This town is lost.”

    IX. On The Road Again

    I found a car with a little gas,

    I drove it as far as it could last.

    It’s so cold, cold at night.

    I might shiver and die of fright.

    I’m out of food and hunger sets in,

    I want my doll and nest again.

    Half way there to the next town,

    All I want is to lift this frown.

    Hold on Me and be really strong,

    Having some hope and never be wrong.

    Two days pass and not a single goon,

    frozen time, they would melt real soon.

    When morning comes I’ll take a stand,

    making my way like a one man band.

    Find that town and get some food.

    Eat real good to lighten the mood.

    I closed my eyes and got my rest

    Gathered my strength to pass this test.

    I had that dream, same as before,

    All that hope, I want more.


    Boom! Boom! Boom!

    A sound from outside.

    The sun had risen and the day grew bright.

    I had woken up with fear and fright.

    I turned to my side and looked out the door.

    Maybe one goon but it turned out to be more.

    At least ten surrounding the car. What should I do?

    They roared and moaned as I looked on.

    I screamed and cried and they kept on.

    I grabbed my knife and thought of a plan.

    There had to be a way to outsmart these ten.

    The snow had melted from the morning sun,

    it caught me by surprised and ruined my fun.

    The goons were loose and free again.

    My hope was lost because of them.

    Their heated breath fogged the glass,

    smearing stains with their body mass.

    Boom! that had shattered next to me.

    I had to get my things and be ready to flee.

    I jumped in the front and turned on the car.

    Hit the gas but didn’t go far.

    Empty it read, glowing in red.

    If they caught up I’d surely be dead.

    I ran outside of my car, dropped some stuff

    and didn’t get far.

    I looked up ahead and there stood a fence.

    A fence ten feet tall that made me tense.

    A road block preventing people from leaving the city. “Oh dear God.” this is no time for pity.

    I looked around to see them closing in.

    I had to admit that this be the end.

    There it was again, the chill up my spine,

    I closed my eyes and let out a sigh.

    It sounded so loud in the endless void,

    Where was the sound and where was the noise?

    The moans and roars grew louder,

    I had lived my life and couldnt have been prouder.

    I lowered my stuff and placed them down. I dropped my knife and embraced the sound.

    This was the end, the end of me.

    Im sorry my friend for doing this to me.

    Boom! Boom!Boom!

    Where had this come?

    Boom! Boom! Boom!

    Six goons had been done.

    I looked around surprised to see,

    a pack of people looking back at me.

    Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

    The goons were dead, I had been set free.

    I waved my arms and they turned to me.

    “Hello,my…” Boom!………………


    Such pain, such pain indeed.

    I hit the ground and started to bleed.

    I closed my eyes and saw the darkness.

    Oh how could have this have happened to me?

    Losing thought, I fought for Peace.

    Peace that I could find by counting sheep. One,…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

  • kimones

    I hear the creaking wooden stairs as I lay in bed up against the wall. That sounds like Grandpa coming down from upstairs. I wait for him to yell for me to turn the lights on. The stairs are dark.

    I sleep in the downstairs bedroom with Grandma while Grandpa has a bedroom upstairs. On this Sunday night, I got sent to bed at eight sharp, as I have school in the morning. Grandma stayed up watching television in the upstairs living room.
    No call to switch on the lights yet. OK. Grandpa is a slow mover. The steps creak again.

    Grandma is a heavy walker, she makes a lot of noise coming down the stairs. She must have fallen asleep in front of the television again. That wouldn’t be her coming down.
    Creaking again, on the lower steps now. Grandpa made it down it seems, without my help.

    Funny how when you’ve lived in an old house so long, you know the different sounds every step makes on every inch of wood flooring.

    The creaking stops. Minutes go by.

    I feel I am not alone. There a curtain hanging in the doorway partitioning the bedroom from the steps. I feel my Grandpa is standing there, or something. It is watching me.

    I inch closer to the wall on my side, the right side. My head is turned to the wall, and I dare not look towards the doorway. I am terrified. I don’t think this is Grandpa. Something is standing in the doorway and it is just looking at me in bed. My mind feels minutes have passed, maybe a ¼ hour.

    I doze off in fear.

    I am still. It is the bed that is moving. It jolts me fully awake. My body goes rigid, and the terror builds in my chest. No, not all moving, just one side. Someone I sitting down, someone heavy. On my bed. With me right here.
    I hear the springs depress. The terror is now at my throat. I inch even closer to the wall. I want to scream for Grandma upstairs, but I am frozen in terror. If the left side goes any lower, I will roll right over into/onto whatever has decided to come and keep me company.

    I pass out from the terror.

  • Kristofer

    Whose the winner?

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