[quote]Survival: The Zombie Apocalype Through The Eyes of A Child. What can I tell you about the zombie apocalypse? Well for starters, it was very swift. From the moment the infection hit, the population of mankind itself was dropping like flies. Entire cities, towns, and villages fell victim to the plague, and before we knew it, half the world had been consumed. The remaining survivors who hadn't yet been infected had all rushed to nearby military safe-zones, quarantined areas Within a few hours a couple of hundred people were infected. Within a day over half the world had fallen. Certain families, such as my own, did not remain in any of these 'safe-zones' for long, as due to my brother's health problems, we were deemed 'unsuitable' and a health hazard to the safety of others. We drifted from location to location, never dwindling in the same place for more than a week. My father, who had been a inthe military for a good 25 years, drove me and my brother across the globe, constantly seeking refuge. One could almost say that we travelled as a happy family, but without our Mother, we would never be a family. Our mother was among the first to fall victim to the crisis, though it wasn't the infection itself that killed her. She had been at the bank one day, at the town centre. While we were sitting in the car waiting, we heard screams and shrieks of pain . Me, my brother, and my dad watched helplessly as dear mother got bit in the neck by an 'angry yob', then slowly staggered to the car. The mysterious youth who'd attacked her seemed feral; his eyes were soulless sockets, and his teeth were stained with blood. Mother clambered into the car and we sped off, not daring to look back at her assailant. When we got back home, Mum seemed almost breathless, and had turned deathly pale. We'd just assumed that she was ill, and would be cured by some medicine, so we procceeded to get out of the car. Suddenly Mother started wretching, and appeared to be shaking. Dad went over to see what was wrong, and noticed that she'd turned even more pale. Her breathing was slower than usual, and she was very cold. We led her into the house and sat down, and turned on the TV. The news came on, and something was diffirent. There were no other stories or newsfeeds in the background, everything seemed to be focused on one subject. Curious about what was going on, we switched to diffirent news channels, but they were all the same. Apparently some sort of virus had escaped from an unknown source, and had been spreading and infecting people. The news anchor appeared on the screen, and had a sombre look upon his face that suggested that he was about to deliver some very, very bad news. 'And more reports regarding the outbreak have been coming in, from more than 760 cases across the globe. Symptoms of the virus are varying, but the most common effects are sunken, soulless eyes, pale skin, and a really cold temperature.' We turned to face our mother, who's eyes had suddenly turned black. Her skin was now extremely pale, and her skin was icy to touch. 'The infected will gradually begin to act more feral, lashing out at anyone nearby. It is advised that you get as far away from them as possible.' No sooner had the man on the Tv finished reading the report, when my mother suddenly swung her fist at my dad, making odd gurgling noises. Dad, who was a well-built muscular man, was, with great difficulty, able to restrain her and She did indeed calm down, and until we were able to figure out what was wrong with her. We were unsure for a while, but after watching the news and learning that a mysterious virus had spread, turning people into mindless, feral lunatics, we understood. He told me and my brother to go upstairs, while he went out into the shed. We did so, and huddled up in a corner, waiting to see what would happen next. There was silence. Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot broke the silence. The noise of an object hitting the floor was faintly heard from downstairs, followed by the sobs of a fully-grown man. When we called downstairs to ask what had happened, he shouted back to us to stay upstairs until he came up, and the sound of something being dragged across the floor could be heard. Dad then told us that we could come downstairs, to which we obliged. There were dark red stains trailing across the floor, as if something bloody had been dragged, leading to the garden. There was a dark, red pile of goo on the floor, also splattered all over the walls, but we didn't dare ask what it was. Dad then came in from the garden, spade in one hand, and gun in the other. He told us that Mother had passed away, and that she wouldn't want us to be really sad, and try and move on. Now that would have made most kids break down crying on the spot, but the shock of the whole situation just took over our minds. We didn't know what to think, what to say, or what to do. We didn't speak to eachother all day. A few days later, we hit the road. Dad didn't tell us where we were going, only that we had to get as far away as possible. We packed everything we needed; Food, clothes, quilts, blankets etc, and a few minor items such as books, pencils and such. All that was 5 months ago. Now, the situation's still the same. Our Mother's still dead, and we're still roaming the globe. We rarely watch TV, but in the diffirent places that we'd stayed in, there were TVs and radios, so we caught brief glimpses of news. From what we could gather, the virus had spread even further, and over 75% of the world had been consumed by the infection. The government of every country had been overrun, and eccentric and mad people had taken the reins, most of whom had instilled their own, often questionable policies. The old system of government was long gone, replaced with systems of fear and terror. We had been driving down a long, lonesome road at night when I first came face to face with a zombie. In the distance, shining in the moonlight, was a lone, twitching figure. We couldn't quite tell what it was, though we could just make out a human shape. Suddenly the engine died. Dad tried helplessly to get the car to start moving again, but it wouldn't budge. The lone figure on the road seemed to have noticed the opportunity, and began approaching the car. Dad, still trying to get the engine to start, reached one hand into the passenger seat, and drew out a long, jet-black shotgun. The twitching figure had come into full-view now, and we could see that it was male, with half it's face missing, blood dripping down it's chest from what remained of it's mouth. The very sight of it was enough to make my brother throw up in his seat. The stench, mixed with the foul odour of the zombie was stomach-churning. Dad aimed his shotgun through the window when the zombie was within shooting range, and fired. The 1st shot impacted directly on the zombie's chest, and it keeled over slightly, but still continued towards us. The 2nd shot he fired finished the zombie off. He scored a direct headshot, splattering the road and car with brain remains. Dad had to throw up outside after that, and the sight of a fully-grown man shaking and vomiting like that was truly horrific. We loved our dad, and he loved us. He was the only protection we had in this mad, mad world. If he were to be lost, I have no idea what we'd do.. That night we slept in the car, hidden in a small abandoned shelter just south of the big city. We slept until the early hours of the morning, until Dad started up the car again and began to drive. He told us about an abandoned factory just a few miles down the road that would serve as a perfect shelter for the next day. The journey to the location was long and somewhat tedious, but we didn't dare complain. Along the road we saw a dilapidated church, that seemed to be bleeding. It's hard to explain, but that's the only way I could describe it. As horrific a sight as it was, my eyes were drawn to a similar disturbing event occurring in the graveyard next to it. The ground seemed to be shaking, and mounds of earth were raising. A huge bolt of thunder streaked across the sky and it began to rain heavily. Suddenly about a hundred decomposing hands shot out of the ground in front of the graves. We didn't get to see what else was happening, as Dad imediately drove away at full speed. After we had hit a safe distance, Dad said that he could see our destination down the road. The rain was still pouring, and everything was a dark greyish blur. At last we reached the abandoned factory, and got out of the car. We immediately got heavily soaked by rain, and quickly ran inside. It was dark, albeit for some light shining through holes in the wall, and some slight gashes in the roof. Dad shut the door behind him, and lit a match. The entire room was illuminated with an orange glow, and we were able to get a good look around the place. The factory was littered with rubbish, dirt, and quite a lot of dead animals. There was quite a musky smell about the place, as if it hadn't been used in quite some time, and the dust was so thick that it was actually visible in the air. Dad seemed content with the place, as he had a slight smile on his face, but that smile was quickly replaced with his usual, serious face again. He wandered off, probably checking all the windows and entrances, while me and my brother just wandered round, exploring the place. We'd found a large, spacious room that looked as if it had been a meeting room of sorts, as there were filing cabinets and tables strewn around the place. [/quote]

*looks for TFS short story contest thread* Leon! Where did I put your post!?!

[quote]Jeff Doesn't Do Well On His Own[/quote] The plump, shiny bubble of latex made its way through the crisp, October morning air like a drunken fish through the ocean. It flew aimlessly, shooting in different directions at sporadic intervals for uncertain distances, only to change course moments later. It was still no more than twenty feet off the hard, dead, autumn grass of the lawns below. It was casting the image of the world’s largest black tadpole upon the many front yards as it went. Ascension continued, and now leaves of hues ranging from the rich orange of a pumpkin to the shocking yellow of a school bus accompanied the flight. They danced around their inorganic colleague like a shield of color as the wind guided everything along. Some of the leaves disappeared while others joined the flock. Some of them hovered more closely to the rotund outsider while others kept their distance. Soon a pair of geese came up alongside the mid-air party, flapping their wings more frequently than usual to keep up with the wind’s pace. They decided reasonably quickly that they didn't like this stranger in their domain, and dove at it, attempting to knock it out of the jet stream it was so keen on remaining in with its leafy friends. Again and again they attacked, ascended, re-positioned and zoomed again at the intruder with their efforts proving remarkably impotent due to their inability to locate their target from in between the constantly shifting shield of colorful leaves. Eventually, the winged assailants gave up on their crusade, allowing the spherical devil to continue its campaign through their airspace. Almost as soon as the birds had gone from the area, the harsh wind ceased, no longer propelling anything anymore, and was replaced by a soft, yet constant breeze. This was for the best, as the wind had no longer been continuing its upward trend, and running parallel to the Earth becomes quite a bore after a while. The leaves slowly, one-by-one, fell out of the heavens, leaving the balloon to continue its inexorable, vertical march to the clouds, now assisted by naught but the helium which took up most of its composition. Up, up, up. Things were looking good for the little red orb. It’s biological brethren who had been turned into temporary, rubbery figures of birds and butterflies long ago would be jealous of the accomplishments it had made today. As it went up, up, up, another object was on its way down, down, down. It was a feather of the brightest, lightest, whitest shade of white imaginable. The feather was immediately attracted to the upward-moving red aviator. The static forces pressing the two together were nearly immediate, as the feather came to rest atop the crown of the sphere. The ascent continued like this for some time, improbably quickening in pace somehow since the meeting with the feather. Very close now was the pair to the ultimate goal: the clouds. Had the ruby-colored sack of imprisoned gas been graced with the gift of sight, it would've seen that it was just about to make contact with a very small cloud; the smallest of the big, big clouds; the smallest of the big, big, dark, grey clouds. Suddenly, a second attack was launched, this time by Mother Nature herself. A bullet of water came speeding out of the sky and collided with the couple. The air taxi jostled violently and, as quickly and softly as the feather had come to a rest, it stumbled off the unbalanced top, and fell out of the sky. Just as the leafy friends had done, the feather now left the balloon alone and vulnerable. But this was good, of course. The feather had probably been holding back progress. It had been tying the balloon down. Now, the balloon was free… BOOM! There was a blinding flash of the brightest, whitest, lightest light it was possible to conjure streaking across the sky, accompanied by the loudest noise nature could muster. Millions upon millions of liquid sniper rounds were fired downward, smacking and exploding on the traveler’s surface. Downward, it fell into an abyssal, watery Hell. It was descending at rates that its ascension campaign had not even hoped to reach. The integrity of the sphere was questioned on an almost millisecond-by-millisecond basis. The wind kicked back in, but it was not a good wind; it was now more volatile than the derailed wannabe meteorologist had ever experienced before. The Heaven explorer was now back at its familiar twenty foot altitude, but in a totally unfamiliar place. Trees and other trees surrounded by trees upon trees all encompassed by trees. This was all that lay before it. Whipping around like a drunken fish as it had not half a day ago, it continued its path toward the forest below. Just as it narrowly missed being stabbed by a particularly sharp branch on its way through the canopy, the wind ceased yet again. The rain, save for residual drops from storm-soaked leaves, ceased at almost the same time. The storm had passed, but the damage was done. There was no way the airspace tourist could make progress like that ever again. There wasn't even a snowball’s chance in Hell that perfect winds like that would ever come along again, not in this round ball of Helium’s lifetime, anyway. For a few hours, the balloon ambled through the maze of trunks, limbs, branches, and foliage, guided by nothing but the light breeze which had guided it through its loneliest of times. But this could not last forever, that much was evident. Helium was escaping rapidly, probably as a result of a pinprick which had probably been inflicted some time during the storm. Down, down, down. Things were looking awful for the now even littler red orb. He was about to know what his brethren who’d been left, unsculpted as simple snakes and earthworms felt like, held against the green earth with no hopes of ever knowing the freedom of flight. As it went down, down, down, it seemed as if something else was coming up, up, up. It was a pile of leaves – THE pile of leaves, surely. What other reason could there be for this happenstance? The leaves’ inorganic colleague was now rejoining them at the end of its life, and they embraced it into their pile with open arms, gently cushioning its landing. As it landed, one could make out through the wet envelope tightly tied to the red aviator’s base, a one-sided letter written on an index card. The envelope had become virtually transparent: “To whomever may find this: My name is Jeff, and I am about to die. I live under Weller’s Bridge in a community of other homeless people. I just wanted to write this in the hopes that somebody may find it, and perhaps learn something from my story, because I wasn't always like this. Throughout my life I have been bullied by bullies and saved by my friends; I have abandoned those friends. I have sought success in business while by being selfish and shortsighted. I have loved, and I have had my love taken from me by the very entity I believed was guiding me on my way to success. I have collapsed; I have fallen from grace; I have been to the highest of the highs and, almost immediately afterward: the lowest of lows. And the thing that I have come to grips with now, as I sit here at the ripe-old age of 56 is this: Jeff doesn't do well on his own. I don’t know how to function without other people in my life, and nobody should have to suffer a life of isolation like that even if it means achieving your goals and getting all that you desire. If you have all the riches in the world and nobody to share it with, it’s pointless; those riches are meaningless; those dollars are false promises of a happy life you will never live. You’re stuck in an empty, 40-room mansion with nobody but yourself to sit there and think, day in and day out, about what an incredibly miserable person you are and how much you wish you hadn't thrown away the only people, the only person, whom ever meant anything to you. So just remember, whoever you may be: Humans don’t do well on their own. Cherish your friends, your family, your peers, and your lovers. At the very least, do more than I did. -Jeff”

Then who was phone?

-blam!- me in the ass. [u][b]The End[/b][/u]