A few years after DayZ

[Drak0sp 0]

So guys, My first post but I wrote a little story on a survivors perspective sometime into the aftermath of the zombie apoc.

Might not particularly relate to DayZ but I would greatly appreciate feedback.

Well, Here goes!

It was unbearable; the stench was affixed to the inner layers of the trachea, cementing the coli’s of the lungs sending horrific fantasies to the mind. It had been the only scent that reminded me of the world, the reality that overhangs like a creeping vine. The reality stained with splatters of blood and horrid bodily fluids, severed limbs and rotted teeth. The soil had lost its tactility; no longer did individual grains exist yet only the manifestation of clumps of coagulated mud lingered across the basin of use to be parks and forests.

The grass was always hazy yellow, like crisp crops ready for harvest, but still the polar opposite brought no comfort from the voidness of green and effervescent colours. The sky was in an eternal conflict, plastered with grey confetti which blocked out the rays of the sun. In occasion, beams of orange and hazy yellow would seep and swerve through the cracks and unfilled holes bringing a surreal reality to a vivid nightmarish dream.

At first it was a place where people once sought to interact, to barter their trades and enjoy the company of human companionship in a cold desolate world. The vibrancy of emotion, the euphoric pleasure in music and art lingered to remind those of what used to be. But the confounding reality that those eyes were empty to the soul that their nonchalant eyes bled with anger, overwhelmed with rage for the astonished reality of what was to be the afterlife. Their homes and their memories would fade with their awareness, their eyes would converse and their curiosity would intermingle with their sanity causing a monstrosity that the Satan himself would cower at. It would begin as rickety banter, where the denial was as clear cut as the earth not being flat; the friendly drama of infection would then turn from a mere scare of sadistic humour to a death sentence. Then the time came when we all realised that emotion was a weakness, for as long as it existed it meant that death grew closer each waking moment. For the inability to strike, to move, to survive was to be the end.

It was unnoticeable, the harmless cough and tiresome sneeze would be wavered off with no slight suspicion of actual alteration. The eyes would water and the breath would weaken, but still it was no trigger for alarm. Then it had come to the point where those touched with the disease would convolute with horrendous vigour the substances which gave strength to the muscles, to the mind. They would wail, moan and screech with pain, their innards would tangle and organs would fail. Their mouths would foam and their feet would numb, and the ground would be stained with their own blood. By then its face was mutilated from self-infliction, their knowledge of language and beauty would fade, and the cumbersome hatred that it had once supressed would unleash in a fury of flails and moans. Then, no longer than a couple hours would it would drown in its own excrement and no longer represent any of the faint beauties of creation.

The constant pestering of the flies would follow and pluck out strands of their rotten flesh, their buzzing eradicating the fine line between the insecurity resurrected by fear and mere Mother Nature. Fear drove and picked away at the hearts of people, the fear of death caused a cacophonic fantasy of murder and betrayal which grew in superfluous content each waking day. The minds of those who knew the end was near became clouded with the confrontation of complete isolation, complete segregation from those they loved. So whether it was the disease itself, or the flaws in our human nature they would lose all hope of recovery and hope that those they brought to the world of Hades would forever be their company in what was to follow. The ghastly pity of sadness exchanged with the realisation of ill-luck and with no apparent reason they would sway and swing, claw and maw away at those they held most dearly to them. Then the cycle would repeat, and those eyes would grow hollow with both betrayal and sadness and slowly they would suffocate under their own will.

I would never have imagined the insincere nature of humans, the harrowing love that they sought from each other and the innate inclination to gore and horror. A memory that eats away my humanity, my connection with the world that I hold consciously reminds me of the depths of evil. Every night I would whisper to myself in a complete Machiavellian guise the separation between heaven and hell, the separation between sanity and insanity. I would delve into the mysterious gaps within the mind, the areas once blockaded by those who cared for each other, obstructed by the mere impracticality of it ever existing. In these wondrous thoughts I would extract the intangible forces which would compel me to the ultimate goal of survival, those thoughts which would entail the practicalities of tomorrow. No longer is time wasted towards melancholic memories of rebuilding what was used to be, no longer is time spent hoping for an end.

[Wazza 274]

I think its hug time for you... cool story though thanks

[Drak0sp 0]

success.

lol but in all real estate agencies. Ty for reading.

[thetamsen 57]

cool story bro

[Drak0sp 0]

i know rite?

lol ty