7
EPISODE 1 - BLOODIED
Youo re awake now. Good. I cano t keep carrying dead weight around.
Dono t try to speak. They tore you up pretty badly out there. Youo re only alive because I had some golden apples going spare. What did you do, eh? Before all this?
Back before the Congregation, I was a simple logger, doing simple work for simple rewards and simple living. This wasno t my choice, you understand. I was shunned, feared even. Youo ll probably want to know why.
I guess Io d better tell you about my father first. He was a peaceful man, swore never to use a weapon. He killed a mob only once - he saw a creeper creeping up on some poor soul out in the fields. Saved the mano s life.
All that changed though.
On a day like any other, my father was attacked by a gang of thugs. He was defenceless - beaten down onto the ground, hopeless without any weapons. After all, what was he supposed to do when a load of thugs come at him with iron swords?
When the police found him, he was nearly dead - frozen, starving, barely a heart left in him. He was in hospital for months - we were left penniless after all the golden apple treatment. All he did was just lie there in his bed, moaning, delirious - much like you, my friend. My father died in that hole - the man who came out again was no father of mine.
He came out a violent, disturbed man. At first it wasno t too obvious, merely being edgier, louder, more easily angered. But he didno t stay like that for long - he started yelling at Mum, arguing over the smallest things. Yells turned to slaps, and slaps turned to fists.
One day, I came home from trading to find my mothero s corpse on the ground, a bloody axe wound running from her shoulder to her waist. I heard a voice from the kitchen. I crept through the oaken door and saw my father holding a bloodied axe in his hands. At first I thought he was crying. Then it became clearer - he was laughing with joy. Seeing me, he slashed for my face, the tip of the axe slicing my face from eye to cheek. Grabbing my knife, I stabbed him through the throat, putting an end to the man who had once been my father.
Only then did the pain set in. We both know from experience the pain of losing an eye, my friend - you two-fold. Of course, the authorities arrested me - after all, what did they see? A man in the house of his murdered parents.
After many years, I was released from prison - banished into the taiga, well away from civilisation. The only human contact I had in three years was a radio and the traveller who traded food to me for my wood. And when he turned, I was left with nothing but voices on a radio. Telling me of the horror. The desperation. The lack of government intervention.
And the lack of travellers to bring me my much-needed supplies.
I knew that if I stayed in the woods, I would starve - a slow, lingering death. So I ventured into the city, finding you, your defences overwhelmed by the horde and the Others clawing at your eyes for easy access to your brain and tearing out your throat. Luckily for you, Io d been saving up golden apples for just a time like this.
I guess, in some cruel twist of fate, we both have my father to thank for our survival. I would never have survived the initial horde that flooded the city, the gang war that briefly thrived in the lawless final days and then the quieting of guns that signified the near-extinction of city-dwellers. And if I hadno t survived that, I wouldno t have found you.
Now quiet - not a sound. If they hear us, weo re dead. They come at night, and ito s getting dark already.
And if youo re not quiet, youo re dead.
========================================
I hope you enjoyed the first instalment of this series! I shall aim to upload an episode every week.
Images by Pixel_King - check out his other stuff!
Check out the next episode!
Don't forget to diamond if you like it!
Youo re awake now. Good. I cano t keep carrying dead weight around.
Dono t try to speak. They tore you up pretty badly out there. Youo re only alive because I had some golden apples going spare. What did you do, eh? Before all this?
Back before the Congregation, I was a simple logger, doing simple work for simple rewards and simple living. This wasno t my choice, you understand. I was shunned, feared even. Youo ll probably want to know why.
I guess Io d better tell you about my father first. He was a peaceful man, swore never to use a weapon. He killed a mob only once - he saw a creeper creeping up on some poor soul out in the fields. Saved the mano s life.
All that changed though.
On a day like any other, my father was attacked by a gang of thugs. He was defenceless - beaten down onto the ground, hopeless without any weapons. After all, what was he supposed to do when a load of thugs come at him with iron swords?
When the police found him, he was nearly dead - frozen, starving, barely a heart left in him. He was in hospital for months - we were left penniless after all the golden apple treatment. All he did was just lie there in his bed, moaning, delirious - much like you, my friend. My father died in that hole - the man who came out again was no father of mine.
He came out a violent, disturbed man. At first it wasno t too obvious, merely being edgier, louder, more easily angered. But he didno t stay like that for long - he started yelling at Mum, arguing over the smallest things. Yells turned to slaps, and slaps turned to fists.
One day, I came home from trading to find my mothero s corpse on the ground, a bloody axe wound running from her shoulder to her waist. I heard a voice from the kitchen. I crept through the oaken door and saw my father holding a bloodied axe in his hands. At first I thought he was crying. Then it became clearer - he was laughing with joy. Seeing me, he slashed for my face, the tip of the axe slicing my face from eye to cheek. Grabbing my knife, I stabbed him through the throat, putting an end to the man who had once been my father.
Only then did the pain set in. We both know from experience the pain of losing an eye, my friend - you two-fold. Of course, the authorities arrested me - after all, what did they see? A man in the house of his murdered parents.
After many years, I was released from prison - banished into the taiga, well away from civilisation. The only human contact I had in three years was a radio and the traveller who traded food to me for my wood. And when he turned, I was left with nothing but voices on a radio. Telling me of the horror. The desperation. The lack of government intervention.
And the lack of travellers to bring me my much-needed supplies.
I knew that if I stayed in the woods, I would starve - a slow, lingering death. So I ventured into the city, finding you, your defences overwhelmed by the horde and the Others clawing at your eyes for easy access to your brain and tearing out your throat. Luckily for you, Io d been saving up golden apples for just a time like this.
I guess, in some cruel twist of fate, we both have my father to thank for our survival. I would never have survived the initial horde that flooded the city, the gang war that briefly thrived in the lawless final days and then the quieting of guns that signified the near-extinction of city-dwellers. And if I hadno t survived that, I wouldno t have found you.
Now quiet - not a sound. If they hear us, weo re dead. They come at night, and ito s getting dark already.
And if youo re not quiet, youo re dead.
========================================
I hope you enjoyed the first instalment of this series! I shall aim to upload an episode every week.
Images by Pixel_King - check out his other stuff!
Check out the next episode!
Don't forget to diamond if you like it!
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+1
~PMC's resident zombie hunter.