2012
Originally Posted by natiko
December 21st, 2012. You wake up as any usual day, and yet the thought of the so-called 'Apocalypse' has haunted your thoughts for the past weeks. There is an overwhelming silence in the atmosphere, and the weirdness of such sends a shiver through your spine. Your eyes are half closed and half open. It is that time of the morning were you are not really woken up completely, and yet you are not dreaming either. You sit up properly, just to find out that it seems like you are in a desert island. There is not one soul to be heard, not one sound be listened- just the cruelty of the sweet silence that you had longed for so many times in your College days, and that now evoked your most dreadful fears. You are afraid to even speak- too many Resident Evil and Left 4 Dead games have implanted the idea that there might be zombies thirsty for blood, and that your voice will just attract them like a deer attracts a cheetah from tenths of meters away. You open the drawer next to your bed, and feel the cold steel of your Mark XIX Desert Eagle through your fingers. It is not fear that wraps you- it is a combination of the anxious beast that was hiding and secretly hoping for this day to come and the mystery that surrounds your whole condition. You pick up the weapon- slowly, there is no need to rush it and the most delicate sound could attract any attention. 'Attention', you think to yourself. 'That is not what I want, is it?'. You walk slowly through the wooden floors of your room towards the window. As your trembling hands approach the closed curtains, you suddenly hope that this is just a dream, a mere nightmare, and that you will wake up in any second. The grey light beams through the little space between the curtains that you just moved. 'Man-up. Come on, man-up' your alter ego speaks, and the so-called MPGHiean that once swore he would fight to death against the zombie horde wakes up. You rip the curtains off, break the window glass with your bare hand, and point the silver gun to the outside. You then move your head forwards. Steadily, slowly, calmly. You can't blow it off now. If there is something outside, then you better be the first to react. And then it hits you. Reality, with all its power, makes you come to your senses. There is nobody. Your street is empty. The houses were once your neighbors lived and flamed at you because of the high volume of your music appeared haunted. Ghostly. Not one human for you to talk to. And so you put your gun down, and sit on the floor. You feel the tears running down your face, and the memories of all the people that you once loved burn in your mind as the fire burns the forest. Rapidly, and painfully. You point your gun to your head. The trigger seduces you. And just as your sweaty finger starts to press the steel with force, a sudden 'beep' sounds from the table behind you. 'What the-' you whisper, and then you see your cellphone beeping. 'Why?' you ask yourself. How can there be electricity or even signal? You grab the device- slowly, you are suspicious about it. A bomb, perhaps? Nonesense. You put on your balls and open it swiftly. '1 New Email Message'. You open the email and smile reluctantly. Tears are still coming down your face, but this time they are of happiness. The mail reads; 'Dear fellow MPGHieans; we find ourselves alone in this world. It appears that only the strongest members of our community have survived. If you are reading this message, you are alive. But you are not alone. It has happened- zombies do exist. We are trying to get all of the remaining humans together, so we can find this zombie horde together. Please, contact us and we will find a way to get you here. In the mean time, the best of luck. Sincerely yours, Dave.'
And that is what will happen in December 21st 2012.
And that is what will happen in December 21st 2012.
