True Apocalypse

Have you ever wondered what the world would be like after life as we know it has ended? This is my interpritation of the apocalypse.


1. True Apocalypse

John daren't turn. He was too afraid. Sweat plastered his hair to his scalp. A flaming bottle whizzed past his ear, igniting the ground before him. He came to an abrupt halt, his heels digging into the flaked dirt beneath him. As he looked desperately around, he saw that he could not run back around the corner he had past. It was over. He was done. The Looters had him. The chief snorted. "Well, look at that. The little thief has nowhere to hide." John glared at him. "I'm not a thief. I got back what was mine." The chief narrowed his eyes. He brought the revolver down to John's forehead. "Well tell that to the Devil. Maybe he'll spare you." He squeezed the trigger and the world went black.


Edward ran his hand through his greasy, unruly hair.He was a 15-year old London-born boy, with short, mousy hair. He remembered when his hair used to actually be washed, before the water was rationed. He was on his way home from school, an emergency bunker converted to suit the needs of educating children. It had been 14 years since the Event. The Event that changed everything. The bunkers were readied when the news announced that the Event was beginning. Now, when before he had walked down treelined avenues, he trudged down mud-caked dirt tracks, barely recognisable as the roads they once were. The once great buildings either side of the road were struck down to a shadow of their once glorious former selves, half-crumbled like a mighty titan's hand had crushed them in his fist, like the minuscule ants they were to him. "Thinking of him again?" Klara said in his ear. She was a dark-haired american, the same age as Edward.  He turned his head. "When aren't I?" Edward replied sharply. Klara looked down guiltily at the sun-baked soil. "Sorry." They continued to trod in silence,  before they eventually reached the cross roads, where they parted ways. It was under a rotting bridge, crumbled and cracked, collapsed in on itself at points, the parts that remained casting shadows beneath, hiding whatever creatures lurked there. Then, in the gloom, something moved. It scurried and crawled, moving in a primal, rat-like way. It raised itself onto it's back legs, squatting on it's haunches, waiting. Edward and Klara readied themselves. The first thing they were taught was to fight, as the only people they would meet in this city were either Looters or these things. They leapt, and Edward saw one for the first time. He had heard of them of course, everyone had. They used to be people, but when the Event happened, they were caught outside. They were sheltered, but not from the  radiation that followed. Those who survived the disease and cancer, the strong and healthy, and got rewarded for surviving by being reduced to this. They now littered the city like fleas on a mangy dog. They had jagged, yellow teeth and wore only tarred, ripped rags. The thing ran at Edward, dirty, sharp nails in front of him, slashing. Edward flipped him over his hip, bringing his elbow down to the back of his head, hard. As it fell, Klara was there to break it's fall with the heel of her boot. A crazed screeching came from above and another thing leaped down at them, but Klara met it before it even reached the ground, throwing all her weight into it. Edward moved to help, but felt a sharp pain up his right leg. He staggered, and felt warm, sticky liquid on his right calf. He turned as he fell, seeing the thing that had bitten him. It's shark-like teeth were still soaked in his blood from when he ripped into his tendon. The image stuck in his mind as he closed his eyes.


Edward woke up, lying in a bunker on a rusted hospital bed. A drip was hooked up to him. He knew it was second- hand. New ones were too expensive for his family. "Glad your awake." Edward froze. The chief walked into view. He raised his arms. "What? Not glad to see me?" Edward struggled to move his arms, but they were cuffed to the bed. "You need to pay for your brother, Edward."

"He was only getting us medical supplies!"

"And you'll need them after i'm done with you."

"What happened to Klara?"

"The girl? We let her go. We won't be so kind to you."


"Revenge. If we kill you, we gain reputation. And you are dead, thats a consolation." He pulled out a switch knife and held it against his throat. "Nighty-Night"



The breeze whistled through the long weeds growing out of the ruins of nelson's column. It swept along the once bustling high street, kicking up dust through the long-abandoned corridors of the Trafford centre, flowing through the Eiffel Tower, all the time carrying the screams of a dying boy, desperate for help, none ever coming. Under a bridge, there lay a crying girl, in the midst of brains splattered against the walls and floor, corpses of things only describable as things. This was the time of true apocalypse;Klara took her own life.





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