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Infection Rate: A Tale of Non-Survivors

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damaged-reality

PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 10:35 am


An introduction to a collection of short stories I plan to write. There might be a few gramical/ spelling errors, but I tried to edit to the best of my ability. Hope you like it!

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The grey, blank sky loomed over head, dark, black snow tumbled down enveloping the country side in the gloomy wastes that continued into the dim horizon. Crumpled corn stalks limped over; shriveled, dead, limp. Their blackened exterior looked like burnt paper, chipping small bit of its organic shell flaking into the damp ashen ground. Through the fields’ seemingly lifeless setting, one small mobile dot trudged slowly in the distance. The skinny figured walked up a small hill, scanning the country side of any sign of life; of movement, at least. The figure’s long, silky hair blew over her hooded face, and she turned around.

The figure slowly walked down the hill, looking back over her back once more to secure her worries, which proved unsuccessful. Stumbling down the hill, she shook her head at an unseen group of others sadly. Another figure, pushing past the first angrily approached the top of the hill to confirm the proclaimed danger. But not even he could doubt danger. In the distance, a pair of deer limped across a field of brown, sickening dirt, their hoofs sinking deeper into the moistness with each step.

He too, looked down the hill and shook his head, moving to join his group down below. “We’ll have to wait a while,” The second figure said, unhappy and distressed.

“Are you sure, Peter,” an old woman asked, talking to the second figure, “what if they aren’t, well, you know. Didn’t we come down here because we thought it was safe?”

“We can’t take any chances,” The first figure said, interrupting Peter before he could say just the same thing, “We haven’t seen one normal animal since last spring, and that was in that military compound. And even that poor dog became like the others at one point!”

“Hey, we know that it isn’t their fault, a bear that they had no idea about broke through their fence during that damn electric storm,” Peter added, nodding at the fourth member of their group, Chaz.

Chaz smiled, “Yeah, you all know it ain’t my fault. Besides, I was off when it happened.” He winked at Cherry, the first figure who had gone to scout up on that hill.

“Stop hitting on that poor girl,” The old woman said, looking worriedly over to Cherry as the two exchanged tired glances, “She already has enough to worry ‘bout.”

“Don’t worry, Ginger, she ain’t my type,” he winked again, this time at the fifth and last group member of their group, Billy, the youngest that the group had seen since the incident.

Billy shuffled in his seat, embarrassed. Chaz laughed, idiotically, “Ha! Don’t have to get so embarrassed!”

There was a short silence, soon interrupted by Billy’s furious outburst. “Just lay off! You know damn well about all that we have lost!” Billy stood up, the escalating volume of his voice startling the group, “From Fletcher, three months ago, to… to Irene! I mean, you keep on cracking these jokes, trying to cheer us up, but all you do is piss us off! You know darn well that Irene and I were in love!” Billy was on a roll, clearly driven by the past couple of weeks, filled with nonstop starvation and separation; terror and destruction, “I just don’t… just stop being so flamboyant, and, and outgoing and all of that crap! Nobody finds it amusing except you! You!” Billy was now on his toes; shoulders raised and face bright purple; his rugged appearance blending into the dark, dead environment. The group was quiet, except for Cherry, who softly shuffled in her place.

A gust of wind swiftly blew by, cutting the deep silence with an eerie whistle, echoing through the silent hills of Minnesota country side. Brown, deathly leaves swirled up along the curving edges of the damp dirt mounds of once fertile land. There was one last whistle, a whistle of wind that calmed Billy down, lowering his shoulders and turning his purple face to a light pale. Ginger sat up from her shriveled sitting position, the freezing wind blowing her long silky white hair across her face in delicate strands. Cherry rose up to her feet, peering east towards the woods in which they had just journeyed through. The sharp wrinkle of leaves was heard as the wind blew over the woods, as well, completely blanketing the group in the sounds of dead nature.

And then came silence. It was a silence so still and quiet, that even the far off hoot of a lone coyote was cut into oblivion by silence’s dark shadow. It was so sudden, that if the silence had screamed instead of done what is was meant to truly do, the scream would have knocked the survivors off of their feet, forcing them onto the crumpled ground. But not even this absolute silence was enough to avoid the wave of parading hoofs and sudden flap of wings that emerged from the woods. The woods that had given Cherry the sudden pulse of insecurity and fear now stormed with the sound of charging animals; an attack from both land and air.
Billy, with his back towards the woods, began to shake with fear. His brown tattered old jacket suddenly slipped with another short gust of powerful wind, carrying the light jacket towards the eastern woods. But even the jacket would not make it into the forest, for from it came the spectacle of nine angry moose, their sharp antlers catching the brown coat. And then came destruction.

Billy slowly turned around, his emotions too strong yet mixed up to truly comprehend the immediate threat. His arms were still outstretched, as if to call upon an unseen force to destroy the stampeding wild moose. But no force came, and as the group excluding Billy stood up in fear for their lives, Billy closed his eyes. He knelt down onto the ground, light tears pouring down his tense face.

All but Billy began to run, to sprint towards the other side of the hills in order to find safety within the western side of the forest. They ran, with Peter in front leading the group and Cherry in back helping Ginger along. Chaz looked back over his shoulder, and his face filled with fear as the first of the pack of moose reached Peter.

It ran up, charging into him with its antlers, which Peter held onto as it impaled his right shoulder. Blood oozed out like Swiss cheese as the moose lifted up its head, letting Billy’s body limply dangle from its sharp and terrifying antlers. Confused, it looked around, not knowing where Billy had gone. But this moment did not last long, when Billy’s leg drooped down from the top of the moose’s antler in front of its face. The moose lifted up its front legs, throwing Billy over its body and onto the ground. Slowly, the group of moose prowled quietly over the Billy’s body, as if he would spring into action with his impaled arm.

But he didn’t, and the moose hungrily advanced onto Billy’s body, biting into his carcass with their blunt teeth. Red puddles of blood swam out of the swarm of moose hungrily munching on the dead boy. Chaz couldn’t take much more, and he looked up to the sky for that group of birds that which had also came from the woods.

He looked up to the sky behind him. Nothing, but the grey ash filled clouds. He looked directly up. Nothing, again, but gloomy sky. But he soon understood when he looked in front of himself over to the western side of the woods. The birds, dark ravens with slick black feathers, had circled around the group. Their endless bird squawks seemed to scream into the hearts and minds of the survivors. Peter, Cherry, Ginger and Chaz all stopped simultaneously, gaping at the intense storm of ravens circling towards them.

Ten or so birds on of ththe outside e ring of birds suddenly broke off, spiraling towards the group in an angry fury. Peter, leading the way, was obviously first to be attacked. Like a typhoon, they swirled around Peter almost majestically, until one of them attacked at Peter’s feet forcing him to flop down on his back. He whipped his hands around at the birds, screaming for the three others to run. “I’ll catch up with you!” He claimed, reaching for his back pocket. And like an expert gun slinger from a B movie, he whipped out a tiny revolver and shot into the tornado of black ravens attacking him.

This seemed to queue for the rest of the group to start running towards the woods. “Damn infected birds!” Chaz screamed towards the bigger swirling group of ravens getting ready to unleash another devastating attack, “Damn all of this, I’m getting the hell out of here!” Chaz, being the self center failure that he was, quickly ran past Cherry, who was helping along Ginger. Cherry could feel that the birds had sensed Chaz moving closer to the safety of the woods, and dispatched another group, aiming towards Chaz.

He stumbled, knowing that he was dead anyways. Another spiraling group of ravens tackled Chaz’s head. His arms flailed as the Ravens nipped at his face, peeling skin and blood from his body. His legs kicked like a spastic puppy in a failed attempt to get up and run from the deadly birds. But Cherry and Ginger didn’t have time to see this. They were already running into the depths of the woods, away from the infected Ravens and away from the infected herd of Moose. Into the depths of the unexplored wilderness, filled with infected rats and infected squirrels and infected bears. Maybe even an infected human, a rare but not unseen sight.

But Ginger and Cherry moved on, stepping quietly through the thick mass of black dying trees. Through the mass of brown, dead leaves that crumpled up like burnt paper. And into the woods they went, never looking back, but moving forward through the wilderness that would never quit until it was fed. Everything needed feeding, even infected animals, infected with the infection that would infect the entire world with utter chaos. It was an infection that seemed limited to only animals and selective humans. It was an infection that would shape the future of mankind. It was an infection that would end the world.

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Tell me how you liked it!

damaged-reality
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 5:43 pm


To me, it sounds like it belongs as a side story to I Am Legend or something. I liked the concept, but there are some things that need fixing, some grammatical, some dealing with other things. For example, Moose do not have antlers like deer. Moose antlers tend to be more rounded at the tips, and they are connected, almost like a bowl or a dish, where as deer and elk have the pointed racks that are all displayed proudly on people's walls. Also, in the beginning, you use the word "figure" far too much. Come up with another word for it so it isn't so repetitive. Sometimes, like in one of my own stories titled "Perfection," I use that word "Perfection" periodically throughout the story, but it is used stylistically and to prove a point. Here, it seems like you just picked a word and plugged it in everywhere. Try to use more variety. I kind of got lost near the beginning because I really had no clue what the heck was going on, and there weren't enough clues provided by the text to give the piece an overall mood until about halfway through when your character explodes in fury. Try to set the overall tone of the story early on, unless you are trying to achieve that plot-twist-at-the-end effect.

Also, because Gaia does not utilize the "tab" button, you might want to go back through and double space between paragraphs. It would make it a lot easier to read. I lost my spot several times just because it's basically a solid block of text.

Keep writing! You have potential, and the only way to polish that potential into something more is to write and write and write. So....keep it up! biggrin I hope this helped!

shnarf9892


damaged-reality

PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 7:01 pm


shnarf9892
To me, it sounds like it belongs as a side story to I Am Legend or something. I liked the concept, but there are some things that need fixing, some grammatical, some dealing with other things. For example, Moose do not have antlers like deer. Moose antlers tend to be more rounded at the tips, and they are connected, almost like a bowl or a dish, where as deer and elk have the pointed racks that are all displayed proudly on people's walls. Also, in the beginning, you use the word "figure" far too much. Come up with another word for it so it isn't so repetitive. Sometimes, like in one of my own stories titled "Perfection," I use that word "Perfection" periodically throughout the story, but it is used stylistically and to prove a point. Here, it seems like you just picked a word and plugged it in everywhere. Try to use more variety. I kind of got lost near the beginning because I really had no clue what the heck was going on, and there weren't enough clues provided by the text to give the piece an overall mood until about halfway through when your character explodes in fury. Try to set the overall tone of the story early on, unless you are trying to achieve that plot-twist-at-the-end effect.

Also, because Gaia does not utilize the "tab" button, you might want to go back through and double space between paragraphs. It would make it a lot easier to read. I lost my spot several times just because it's basically a solid block of text.

Keep writing! You have potential, and the only way to polish that potential into something more is to write and write and write. So....keep it up! biggrin I hope this helped!


Thank you for the advice! I feel kinda stupid about the moose thing (guess I should be sleeping more XD). But after re-reading it I totally felt what you were saying. I guess that's why I joined this guild. It is always better to hear from an outside voice! Again, thank you for taking your time to look through my story, and next time I post, I'll keep your critique in mind! smile
PostPosted: Thu Aug 13, 2009 8:02 pm


You said you were what, 13? Well this is what I think...That was a pretty damn good piece of work! Sure it needs some polishing up, but most do. One thing though, there were some slight bits where you needed to be clearer about what was going on. Also there were some points about repition and common gramatical error.

One last thing, Whatever virus you have infecting things doesn't make sense to me as the facts are presented. First, it seems like the virus makes all infected creatures crave the flesh of other creatures (If it is human in particular you need to have a good scientific reason or the public won't like it.) and the problem with that is that the herbivores that contracted the virus would die because they don't have the proper teeth for tearing meat, so they'd all starve to death. A way around this is to have the virus cause all those infected to lose their teeth and be replaced with a ragged mouth full of fangs. Do to this transformation, which would most likely include increased growth of muscle tissue and pigment discoloration, would be an enhaced motabalism, hence the need to feed often, and as a side effect of the virus they would have increased cell deterioration and would die younger. Anything infected that gave birth would probably give birth to some twisted and horrible abomination of a creature, so keep that in mind.

Oh, and there is no such thing as a 'herd' of moose, they travel alone.  

Shallarinath
Captain

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The Chamber of Lore

 
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