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#1
4th August 2013, 22:20
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The Day The Dead Didn't Die...
Hello all, I don't know if you had read my thread leading up to this, but I proposed an idea regarding me putting together an interactive narrative about a zombie apocalypse. It's just a bit of fun, and something a bit different whereby I have set up a story in the middle of an undead outbreak and at the end of each segment you will be given two potential choices for story direction which I want you as the reader to vote for. All votes you make can you please make VIA pming me on my profile to leave the story thread fairly cluster free.
I really hope I get a bit of interest through this, and I'd be interested to see where this goes. Also, apologies if the story starts a bit pooh. This is all new to me, and the story I write is done on the fly so might come off as unpolished and rough, but hey ho, **** it here we go... p.s. the first post will be a prologue, just to set the scene and the ball rolling, so no reader choices will appear. Hope y'all find it enjoyable! The day the dead didn't die.. PROLOGUE: The wind blew, caressing, whispering passing secrets of times gone by. The trees fluttered in the breeze, paying tribute to the sky. Each passing gust of wind tugged the leaves off the trees, and they begun their descent to the ground with an amber hue... it looks like autumn. An orange mist engulfs the forest, which lays silent and still albeit the wave of the branches in the cool steady air. There is an eerie sense of calm which lingers above these woods. Nothing utters, rustles or creeps. The trees hold their tongue, as does all that shelters within them. A silence so calm and persistent the sound of a tear drop hitting the forest floor would shatter inside ear drums like a hammer brought against glass.. All was quiet... "Anna!". The voice pulsated through the trees, a deep voice, a disrupting voice, a voice firm and mature. The voice of Shane. A man troubled, a man who's own image was dishevelled and carelessly rough, from the tie draping loosely around his collar, to the unshaven shadow that clawed at his chin. "Anna!? Where are you going!?" his voice inquisitive, concerned, adult, yet racked with a certain sense of childlike uncertainty. His sleepless eyes, blood shot, glazed and screaming of a story untold, lay open and fixated in front of him... there, through the trees and the thick forest haze, he saw her. He saw her long black hair cascading down her back. He saw her dress, decorated with a million blossoming flowers, the dress she received on her 7th birthday not three months ago.. but where was she going? Why didn't she stop? Did she not hear her father's call? Did she not care? Shane trod onward, towards this spectre through the trees... his eyes welled up with water, that stinging sensation of emotion. Why was she so distant? Every time he caught sight of her beyond the trees she swiftly vanished behind another, into the abyss. His heart thudded heavy and yelled up though his throat and chest, and again he spluttered a cough and fought against his delirious tears. "Anna!" She did not flinch, she did not turn, she continued to fade into the nether. A nether Shane knew he could not fight. Oblivion. He knew he must reach her, yet every step he took she seemingly leaped further out of reach... she would be gone... his baby girl would be gone... the wind blew... WAKE UP... The floor was cold and stung his face. Shane had regained conscious thought, but with all his being he despised the thought of opening his eyes. He shuddered at the thought of leaving his quiet inner dream scape. His place. At the thought of returning to reality, or more so, the nightmare of which reality had become... he licked his dry, cracked lips which had become sore in the course of his heavy sleep. It was then that he realised he hadn't drank anything in so many hours. He clenched his eyelids together in one last ditched attempt at sealing them closed, and then opened his eyes. He lifted his head off of the floor, and the pool of saliva which had materialized during his sleep, and gazed around the room. It was a storage room, and yep, just how he had remembered it those hours ago, just before he had collapsed in the middle of it. It had been a room he was accustomed to for many a year, on the 20th floor of his office block. Boring, neutral, and claustrophobic. Splattered in pastels, and drowning in it's own lifeless mediocrity. It was littered with free standing metal framed shelves, which encapsulated the room in large numbers in a maze like fashion. Fairly foreboding to someone in a fragile state of mind, someone dazed and tired like Shane. The shelves held boxes upon boxes of countless documents, files, papers and folders. Typings of this and that organized inside labelled cardboard boxes which read such things as 'Accounts', 'Back dated', 'Withstanding' and various other things. Shane had lost track of time, but through the cracks in the blind he could see sunlight still faintly piercing through the tiny window sat in the far upper corner of the room. He collected his thoughts and tried to clear out the remaining shadows of thought his dream had left behind. He rubbed his heavy eyes and sighed heavily, and with a gulp he turned to face the door. He knew what lay beyond, and questioned whether continued existence was still worth it. He had been hiding within this room for too many hours but he knew he could not stay any longer, and the lack of nourishment along with the thought of outside made his stomach twist and his heart shudder... they were out there... rotting, dripping and dribbling. They had torn this world apart, but unreasonably left Shane in tact. Everything was dead because of them. Out there, in the corridors, in the offices, in the stairwell, and in the streets outside, 20 floors below... Shane's ears twitched as if instantly reactivated and then he heard them again. He could hear the groans coming from the street below, faint, but loud enough to reach his audible capacity, and that thought worried him. How many must there be out there to produce such a whirring, constant whisper on the pavements far below Shane's feet? How far have they spread?... Anna!... 
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#4
5th August 2013, 18:29
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Re: The Day The Dead Didn't Die...
You only posted it yesterday, be patient.
 Also would help if you put spaces between the paragraphs as I can't read big blocks of text it makes my eyes bleed. I haven't read this thread for that reason, one look and I was like: hell no!
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#5
5th August 2013, 18:42
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Re: The Day The Dead Didn't Die...
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