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Rouge Ridge

5 posts in this topic

Just in case for anyone who dares to read all this, some of these walls of text just sum up everyone's converstaion as one. It seems logical to me to do it this way. It helps me actually finish this story by doing that than... well I did what you see here just so I can actually finish the story and I did. It's not much, but hey. It's like a classic, B horror-movie film with not the fancy large in numbers and gadgets. I also mention a zombie that runs like 28 Days Later or the infection speed. This has absolutely no support to how I feel about zombies in general.

It has been months since people initially were hunting for each other after the final release of winter flu shots. Everyone was running. Many of them sought refugee on military trucks and school buses to ghetto in a football stadium transformed into FEMA camps to be checked and scourged without warning. Rumor has it the virus' infection spread as fast as rage in 28 Days Later and caused over half the survivors at the stadium to be shot and killed by rapid gun fire. Most, if not all, were not able to escape the tall, metal fences installed for "our protection."

Meanwhile, there was a group of rebellious teenage friends who's parents took their fall away from them by going down without them, leaving back in their own neighborhood, no power on, but them in one house every day and every night with many back up plans and escape routes. Their obsession secures them well from danger, but have they experienced "danger" yet?

"We don't know really what's going on. We're just alone in this neighborhood... hoping we can find some food." Scalid must've said this line over 4 times since the big bang happened.

"For all we know, everyone must be dead..." remarks Sandra.

"Surely, there are survivors, but we don't know where and the world becomes large again without air ports, vehicles, or bikes to find." Said the Joe. "Hey, Timmy!" Joe calls through the house completely control with his volume to always be safe from auditing danger.

"Yeah, I'm just... um.... well I'm here, haha."

They picked a good house to hide. Being in any of their own homes is too much energy and energy means food to consume. It's right next to a ditch, which leads to a small park and a batch of woods. Even if the woods were inhabited, only they had memorized the way back to their home without power, as for any home. Every night that approached them was like being in a different world since there weren't as many cars passing by, but most seldom and a definite day when most won't want to pass by as often. They would go outside for fresh air... turn around, and look into that dark house; safe especially knowing one of you is already in there, paying fear and loneliness by the second to secure it for you. Being alone was like a strong spiritual windy force against you... but not like it's pushing you, but felt there... as if your soul; every soul had a very deep and dark elevator to the center of the Earth; thath a very dark and sacred... holy place brought by time, fire, and darkness.

"I would figure if there's a hell, we would've known by now. Maybe I just didn't watch TV enough." Joe pities himself, placing himself in hell so he doesn't have to think of all those he let down by merely being inattentive to the cries for patience, peace, and intelligence; STRENGTH. "Fuck it."

Being at that particular home was like haven, or heaven itself; made there just for them to salvage themselves. The home had an intricate design; custom gates, none of mere wooden boards. They happened... to be wooden, but with gates, a large drive way and carport, but cluttered securely with gates to close the drive way. No thief or outlaw, or trespasser would be comfortable hopping their fence unless their life was observing, listening, and being quiet. I had a dream that inspired just these moments. The backyard has a hilly slope into... the dirty ditch are that somehow gave you blue in thrill as you approached it at night. It's like a dream having to cross it... and like running from a killer helplessly having to return back to it, especially now that all sanity has gone once and for all. It would almost feel like freedom to see any human being come along; our ears and senses somehow are understood to detect danger from anything... or anyone. It's just not likely a zombie decides to scourge ditches.

Hah, those zombies! Nothing like we'd imagine! They are like a mixture of vampires and classic shuffling zombies! I think both vampires and zombies would be just as terrifying looking back into the day and realizing that fear is limited by you. Hah... indeed. Too bad we can't eat the suckers; we'd actually go nuts and I don't want to see what that looks like eating too much people meat... AND I NEVER BEEN HUNTING! I don't want to skin anybody... or cook anyone... It's easier to say when it's just a story!

What a sad life; but at least the houses we search day by day still gives us a penny of food which feels like a million bucks, being starved.

"How do those farmers do it?" Timmy asks?

"What?" Sandra replies.

"How did farmers make such big crops?"

"That's so random."

"Well, for one, they use big machines to till the dirt to loosen it up and I guess those machines also drop seeds." Scalid's confidence suits only himself well so far that we've found nothing.

"No I mean like how olden people did it without the tractors." Timmy, the only one who thinks outside of his he- Well, I guess he's the only one.

"Haha, no one knows! Vermaculite? Compost? Peat Moss? Stuff to help plants grow? Definitely water as well... I wonder if the infected water could grow plants and if they would put the virus in us. There's actually a lot of things that can contribute to growing plants. Plants need the same nutrients we need, or something like that. They still need minerals and if you have mineralized soil and compost, you're pretty good for growing food! Actually, with all these houses, there's got to be a trace of something we can get from the ground or houses that will help us grow food... and plants themselves to grow. ANYTHING! If we can just find one fruit tree, maybe we can try to use the seeds for what we find for soil! It may take ... WEEKS to grow... but let's say we find more food, then planting those seeds wasn't a waste... AND WITH ALL THIS TIME having no job or anything, we can figure out a way to make things grow best just by... thinking and figuring: does plastic mix with soil? Doesn't sound likely... How about metal? What kinds of metals? OR ... definitely not sugar"

"Are you talking to yourself again, Joe?" Sandra is such a bitch. Too bad that's how she tends on being a mother. There's always a better way but she just so happened to dawn that out of cigarettes and other assholes besides herself in her life. Joe has already been in it with her on how happy he was to see her suffer for tobacco. "Of course I understand," he says, but still persists on being blunt, having that people seemed to be the same way towards him. He just likes more spice to reality.

"YEah.. I am... Of course I am, aren't I? Or are you just fucking lazy!?" Joe gives into the loser asshole character he has seen in movies like Halloween II; the guy taking out the trash or the necrophiliac driving a hospital car. Or how about Poseidon? Lucky Larry, anyone? The guy who drinks along the way to leaving the ship upside down?

"Just quiet down... quiet man... really... we need to... well you are right... we could look for other things besides food." Scalid agrees and is too tired to burn the witch, as latter and the once-people who lived here would do, in having nothing else to do with their jobs and material belongings.

"YEah... and I wasn't that loud either... I control my voice! I know how loud I am... I've listened to how far away someone has to be to hear us." Said the Joe.

"Yeah, Joe actually isn't loud. If you hear his voice, it kind of seems loud, but he's just blunt and uses his whole throat to talk." Said the Timmy.

"Bitch." Said Joe.

"Don't call me that!" Said. Sandra.

"Sow! .... Sow also means a female pig!" Joe.

"You know what? You're a bitch!" Sandra

"Gee thanks! I've been waiting for some open-mindedness!"


Guys come quick! What? What was it? I saw someone walking in the ditch I swear! I don't know where they went... I was just standing here and I looked downwards and I saw someone in clothes just walking, looking down.... I don't see anybody. Holy shit.. I swear I saw someone. Hey! IS anyone there!? No answer. Bushes rustle. Hey we can hear you. There's no more sound. Let's just go back inside and wait. Shut the door.

"Do you think it's one of them?" Scalid is the first to ask that question but finally. "I don't know. How do we know. He or she didn't say anything." Timmy looks out to the window. "And we can't go hunting for it; the sun is setting." The actuality of Joe is remarkable. "No we can't.. we can't go outside now." Sandra tags along the back of Joe's words. "What if it knows where we are at? It could just be staring or listening to us... like.... SOME monster!" "Oh, Joe, you make things sound so much more scarier than it is!" Fear can be useful so I intend of having my senses and emotions.

Deep into that darkness peering, long it stood there; wondering, fearing, and doubting in the depths of Edgar Allan Poe's dread; staring at the house barren with no lights, but teenagers. A house who formed eyes without lights; the pitch darkness of the second floor seemed to speak the horror of a giant's list of terror. The eyes solid black, with the glowing tension of hunger in its iris and bull's eye of a pupil... Just resting... resting with its arms over the old gate of that backyard, it waits for response from inside the house... Wondering if such friends can offer their skin. Their beautiful, delicious, lovely skin. I have only had one friend since...

"Is.... Someone come quick!" Timmy whispers loudly behind himself. "Is that it?" They all try to look down to the old, short, and wooden gate in the backyard where Timmy points. "I think I see it right there."

"Hey! Let me see!" Sandra is trying to see over the two guys' shoulders, but Scalid soon justifies: "That's just the gate; y'all are freaking out over nothing! Just chill out because y'all are freaking me out!"

"But it just kind of looks like someone..." Timmy's eyes remain on the still figure resting on the gate under the sun setting the darkness into the night. He stares into such still eyes; so faint, black, and dead as the fence is.

"Just lock the door. Yeah too bad there's not plenty of wind or storm to hug us."

"Are you crazy? That would make this so much worse."

"It would make me so much happier for plenty of wind or a storm; we have plenty of housing to survive in and we need plenty of water so I think the idea of storm hugging me feels really great! I think if we had a storm in our location, I'd at least feel so happy! I would make sure every door is locked and window and I'll just sit and look out the window for hours!" Which is truly something Joe would say, being that he did just say that. "IT's actually more creepy the thought of something staring at us that we can't see."

Oh what Joe knows... resting on the gate... just resting... nothing to think about, but far past what we perceive as sane or insane. The human perspective can go by far. Happiness can become hunger. Friends become food. If you can just let me frame cakes and wittle dust and run across the lawn I'm gonna be... *SMACK*

!¬°What was that? And it's not even storming... SHUT THE FUCK UP, JOE! Wait, did you hear that? Hello? It's too early in the night for this shit. It's always too early... I guess it's ... well you're right! Just be quiet. Just be quiet. WE have every door and window locked, right? Yeah we check it. Let's just check again. Split in twos. You and Scalid go look upstairs and let's be quiet! Just be quiet. I think zombies are too stupid to be quiet..

Too stupid? Hahaha... too stupid. When can I come inside... one of them has to open something. Just sit here. Wait there. Sit here. Shutem stupid.

"Well, everything is checked... We can just sit here for a while and just listen."

I'll listen.


Do you think it's gone? It could be but how can we tell? It's not like its one of those sniper soldiers that wait for days in one spot just to get a good shot. It's just so late. Let's just keep quiet and try to fall asleep. What we can do is fall asleep closer to the windows and doors so if there is anything, we'll hear it, but let's sleep in twos, not alone. Because if we are alone, we'll scream to each other if we are inhabited by a zombie so... let's just go... there's no way it can climb to the roof so you sleep at the back door and we'll sleep at the front. Let's just bring the mattresses here.

The night is still. Every ten minutes that pass is one minute closer to complete peace and serene sleep. As long as the silence keeps the pace. The bugs seem somewhat lucky in having not to deal with what we're going through. I wonder if bugs really have a conscious as a whole concerning their environment made by us... If not, then what about their brains and just simple structure and nature? Their structure's explanation? I mean, there has to be some historical meaning behind why a bug has its species and shape... There must be visions to have from it... even though it seems impossible to understand a bug's being and evolutionary history, but the usefulness in understanding, and not just the boring reading and interpreting books.

Hugging closely to Teddy Bear. The presence of light is as warming as body heat. The dreams and escape flea; they leave like an alien friend who travels only through sunrise. Just you and me; outside. *Gasp* Is anyone awake? There's no one to reason to be outside. What? You know something? I think I will go check if anything was around outside. It's a lot safer in the day.

Joe unlocks the door quietly and steps outside the front yard. The backyard would be too dangerous, as the sighting was down the creek behind us. Walks right to the right fence; nothing as expected. Walks left of the front of the house to the closed gate and peers into the carport's interior and door. Nothing; well go figure! Goes back inside and leaves out the car port door and walks outwards outside past the wooden diamond-shaped walls that make up a portion of the carport; holes to see through, and goes to the gate to the backyard. A slight creaking is sound as he passes through it and notices the legs, body, and defined, grotesque hair and deeply shadowed eyes lie around the corner leading to the back door. Slowly creeping up to it, Joe sees that the zombie is lifeless... staring outward... into his soul. The highlights... the faded dreams... beyond the abstracts of the sane mind staring up into his eyes... As if the consciousness of the zombie lies in the back of Joe's mind; oblivious... as if it lives in the back of his mind now... for what's left that controls that lifeless corpse.

Joe quickly backs away from such definition of character as that zombie and quickly tip-toed inside and awakens the others. A zombie! It actually was looking at you! I thought I was looking at something yesterday, too! There shouldn't have been anything on that wooden gate, and we didn't realize there was! This is so creepy...

Holy shit; it's a zombie! What do we do with it? Is it still alive? Well it was last night. MAybe it's asleep. We've never killed any before... Man, what do we do? I think we better just make sure it's dead. ...What else is there to do? What if we just let it sit there, you know? I don't want to smash or bash it. We're not cut out for this. Even if we had a gun, we wouldn't want to make much sound. If we had a gun, we would be able to take more on! That's silly; more like machine guns and lots of bullets to be safe. Okay, you know what? Let's just throw it into the water of the creek. We just need towels to lift it up or just help me drag it.. and throw away the towels so we don't get infected.

The feeling of being starved almost takes away the fear in dragging such a dead-looking corpse. Somehow, it still loooks alive. I mean, there's not really a lot of rotting flesh, but it still looks so dead... hah! And deaf! Across the grass and pass the wooden gate, a history of the whole neighborhood circulates in the creeks behind them. Ahead of them; the streets, just seem like a giant friendly void. The sight of it falling into the water was more scary than seeing it lying on the ground next to our house. Don't get me wrong, it was horrifying to see a corpse that put itself there arrive the next morning!

"You see? IT's gone! No more worries for now! Ahaha!" the sound of Scalid's voice is relieving, but not assuring complete security.

"We're still tired and it's the early morning. Let's just get more sleep." Sandra seemed to show not much emotion being around such a creepy corpse. She was the most silent of all of us.

"Okay; lock the door and let's just get more sleep." Timmy's being the big man this time! Yahah!

We quickly dozed off; so tired and starved we are... but the sleep is so consuming... and good.. AT least it's that.

>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>.>>>>>>>>>> *BOARRRA!* The sound of the back door just breaks open, followed with the recoil turmoil of what the footsteps and definition it had and it must've made. What the fuck is going on?

"AUGHHHHHHHHHHHH! AUGHHHHHHH!!" The sound of Sandra is heard down stairs towards the parents room of the house just maybe 10 feet to the left of where I am at upstairs. A lot of brutal wrestling and movement of Scalid and Timmy trying to get her off. Trying to get up from so much being tired, I try to get downstairs and grab something to swing with. I still hear screaming. I get to the room and I don't believe what I see: the zombie owns the house! Scalid or Timmy couldn't manage keeping it away from themselves! I dart back upstairs in such thrill, barely getting to notice if I was being followed at all.. *Panting* Panting... Panting so much upstairs... and trying to listen closely. The sound of the dying is all I fear... and it is apparent that Scalid, Sandra, and Timmy have fallen to the zombie's wrath. I can hear noises, but it's definitely no sound of yesterady or the day before...

"Alright. ALRIGHT!" *Picks up vase, throws it down, and picks up chair and SLAMS it against the wall still upstairs.* "Who YOU THINK YOU ARE?! Come on! You wanna fuck with me???" Joe screeching at the top of his lungs... and his throat... like nails on a chalk board, screaming into the still oblivion now called downstairs... flooring, counter-tops... dead bodies, a zombie, but where? "You know SOMETHING? You know what? YOU KNOW WHAT? I'm coming downstairs! I'M COMING!" *SWINGS THE CHAIR against the wooden stair handles to the left. "YOU GOTTA PROBLEM? HA! YOU WANNA FRIEND OR SOMETHING? HAH?" *Approaches the last step of the stair cautiously, anticipating attack from that corner or the other.* *Quickly peeks around the right corner into the kitchen, garage door, and giant fish tank. Quickly looks left into the darkest rooms of the house: the bathroom, master bed room, closet, office, and guest room. Thrill excites Joe again. "YOU KNOW WHAT? I KIND OF THINK YOU'RE STILL HERE! I THINK SO! ANY OF YOU STILL ALIVE? TIMMY? SANDRA? SCALID? SCALID? ANYONE? I'M GUNNA FUCK THIS ZOMBIE UP. I'M SORRY I DIDN'T GET THERE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! I DON'T KNOW WHY I WENT UPSTAIRS! ... I TOLD YOU THE 2ND FLOOR WAS BETTER! I TRIED... WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU SUCKER! TOO FUCKING LAME TO SURVIVE IN THE FIRST PLACE!" *SWINGS CHAIR AGAINST THE WALL TO THE LEFT... WALKING TOWARDS THE MASTER BEDROOM.* The excitement of fear circulates with every heart beat in Joe's body. He fears horror so much he must exasperate his thrill. "HUH? YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY? I KNOW YOU DON'T. OF COURSE YOU DON'T." *Walking slowly towards the next corner.* "HAH? Why don't you cOME ON OUUUUT?!" *Shakes the chair vigorously.*

Quietness grows within Joe's spirit, at least it had fixed the horror within himself. With the best of Joe's interests in ghosts of all his life and talent in playing Golden Eye 64 on 00-Agent... OH the history! He looks from both corners of the hall and the master bed room with such profession; STILL MAINTAINING absolute grip on the chair he holds. What a choice! It's large and heavy enough to keep the zombie's body away if it were to come ahead towards himself. Silence.

Chosen the master's bedroom; the place the massacre ended in; the best of his fear in the face of the worst of fear. In a daring, chaotic, and equally as psychotic as the zombie, Joe calls out to the zombie, belitting it by perspective, "hello? Are you THErrrre, Mr. Zombie? ARE YOU.... Therrrrre? I'm .. here." Joe looks around the room and sees nothing but two dying corpses barely trying to communicate. Joe trembles at the site, "I'm sorry, I can't understand you... I really... really need to focus so maybe I can try to live... even though I have no reason to now that you guys are dead. Hold on... I'm sorry." Tears form in Joe's eyes. "Come ooon, zombie!" Joe's voice immediately changes to the attention in a wicket-witty friendly voice, as he approaches the closet. The quiet, whispering cries from Timmy still linger. I know he has a reason to... It's not for nothing. It's not.. and they do linger, but I can't let my guard down; not like this. "I hear you, man... I'm trying to get this resolved quickly so I can have one-on-one talking with you."

*Movement from the closet starts from slight sounds of movement to a quick thrust through the hanging clothing.* Joe uses the chair to keep it away, as such defined zombie, like a dead spirit multiplied in the mass of human skeleton, muscles, and blood, has Joe against the bed, holding the zombie away with the chair, with his thighs against the bed behind him. "God DAMNIT! GOD DAMNIT!" If there's one thing JOe enjoys about his dad's most-horrifying anger, is how powerful it really was for him to have, too... It tended to justify any pain or horror brought upon him. Upon his wits, he made a quick choice to use the chair against the zombie's fighting body to push himself backwards onto and across the bed. The chair is gone; no good any more.

The odd-haired dollish creature in darkly-shaded eyes already is half way across the bed, making an easy, but no choice to make a run for it out the room. Now Joe is back as a child reminiscing one of the most creepy feelings in the world is hearing something chase you; RIGHT BEHIND YOU making weird noises, wondering if it's going to catch you. A dark, haunting house; once and for all; no lights, no electricity for the longest time. Me and the zombie. "Nooo, Mr. Zombie" Joe is just as daring, but grew meek, so being silly was easier to him than to be in horror. Almost running into the corner at the confusion on wanting to go upstairs or continue towards the garage door and giant fish tank, Joe's left bounces across the fish tank, spins to keep the speed going, and runs into the bathroom onto the toilet. In having to quickly turn around, he didn't have enough time to shut the door.

The first stage of acceptance is acquired: Hand to hand struggle with the beast itself. 2nd Stage: the force is stronger than ever manifested but the fight is still yielding for effort. Muscles weakening. Bites the right side of the chest. 3rd stage: to scream; acceptance and forbearing of pain. More pain is out of the question; I guess it's better to scream. The thought of any consciousness the others have listening to us fight makes sub-conscious guilt-out-of-nowhere go away. Death seems easier than I thought... but I'm still alive! Another bite against the shoulder. With this much adrenaline, I can die more peaceful than I thought! Screaming and whimpering. Shaking, once-intensified muscle strength giving its last. When will the pain just stop? 4th Stage: there is no acceptance in such pain, is there? Somehow the apparent blood loss this far makes the thought of my dead friends revitalizes the peace within me. I am not too far away from their status! Look at all my blood... One-on-one with a dead GHOUL of a zombie is a lot easier to bear the site of when it's killing you and your full of adrenaline than fear, or at least the way I am feeling. Zombies seem to be more badass in this way for video games as both scary and tough and intelligent, but it's killing me! Oh what does it matter... I can't change anything now.. I am also infected... Too much pain to really care about what it feels like to be infected... It's slowing down... Why try so hard to remember long ago past feelings when they all come back with relaxation... beyond strife? It's very peaceful. Nothing like a cruise across the waters, or a flight in a plane across the deep blue sea and sky. Hmm... *Senses collapse at still at site of being munched on at the corner of my eye... at least much of my consciousness is far too gone to care...*

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lol Finally responses? Well, hey, I guess that's when some people got recognized...

I tend to think back to my story... it's raw material being right before my eyes... not exactly, but the images and perception in the fear of death... and some kind of voyaging zombie hunter... rather depicted as a psychotic human being who wouldn't consider him/herself as psychotic, but its views and natures are beyond normal, as it hunts for flesh, as you read in the story.

Thanks though! I was wanted to write another story since I couldn't MAN UP TO WRITING A STORY FOR THE CONTEST... AS IN A GOOD ONE DONE BEFORE THE DUE DATE>>> LONG BEFORE THE DUE DATE.

Also, I think the next Alan wake game is secretly based on you.

Aww man, I could ever take a look at it, but these days, I'm trying to reinvent myself way better than before as Maxx may put it... I started from scratch but my brain is used to who it once was... wait... that's contradicting when I LOVED my old self! I LOVED MYSELF ENOUGH TO LOVE OTHERS... but now... >.> <_<:huh:

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