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I screwed up and wrote this for the "Night of the Living Dead" thread (Night of the Living Thread?). I've removed it from there, but I don't want it to go to waste, so tell me what you think here.



Tim hated crying. When he was young, his father used to send him to his room when he cried. He hated himself even more now, being 32 and still a crybaby; a blubbering idiot. The thought of his father chiding him didn't help. He had failed his poor father.

The fact that the undead had killed everyone he held dear long ago didn't help either.

He always cried before leaving the Hole. The old bunker had kept him alive - or as alive as one can be in this world. But when the food runs out, he can either fetch some food, braving the outside world, or he can die. Neither was preferable, but living was the coward's way, so that's what he did. He picked up his axe and, after a moment of hesitation and eye-wiping, he opened the hatch. Flecks of lead-based paint went in his eyes. They watered.

It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. A light breeze blew over Tim as he looked around. He left the yard of a house which belonged to the owner of the Hole in the sixties. The long, green grass made a swishing sound as he walked through it. When he reached the street, he saw Jack's. The old general store had a sign in the window. CLOSED. The windows were smashed, and the front steps were ochre with decade-old bloodstains. The inside was empty, but Tim had stashed some canned food he couldn't carry during his last visit under the floorboards. He ran to the corner and pulled up the linoleum flooring. But before he could pull up the floorboard, he heard a creaking sound.

Stupid! He thought to himself. He forgot to search the room before going to his stockpile. He turned to see what made the noise.

Tim had killed the monsters before. He didn't like it, but he had done it. But he couldn't kill this one. He raised his axe, but he found step two to be quite impossible. He huddled himself in the corner and did what he did best: He started bawling. The creature closed in on him. Through his tear-filled eyes, he took one last look at it. The monster was a child - no more than ten years old. As the child tore into Tim, he smiled in spite of the pain. As a zombie, he would cry no more.

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Well, I realized that the NotLD thread was more of an RPG type thing, so I thought I'd move my story to here.

Thanks, TMA and Ex! I'm glad you like it. Actually, that zombie thread has gotten me into a zombie story mood, so you may see more in the future. Maybe even some System Shock fan fic. Shock has some characters which are basically the same as zombies, if you don't know. The only difference is that it takes place aboard a space station or a large ship, depending on what game you're thinking about.

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