The Walking Dead: Writing Competition

It's a dark world. Life is terrible. Zombies roam. People die.


1. Dark

     They roam around the streets, moaning and groaning. It's dark. It always has been since the apocalypse. We barely have any food or water. We are all dying.

   The cracks on the streets match the scars on my arm. The bugs that crawl on me during the night remind me of the zombies that roam the streets. My teeth are rotting just like theirs. My eyes are bloodshot, and my body is weak.

   The sun rarely ever shines here. My kids are both dead. Their rotting corpses' lay there in silence. My wife sits in the corner humming, rocking back and forth. Sanity is rare.

   I swear I have already lost my mind. I can't seem to move from the window. I watch the zombies' run into poles, and stumble. I watch them eat birds, or other things they have found. I watch them. Every hour of the day. Never leaving the sight of the window.

  This world is dark, just like my mind. This world is cold, just like my heart. This world full of zombies' roaming around. This world is dark.

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