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After the Pandemic: Flesh of My Flesh (646 hits)

Category: None

Rating: 1.95 on 22 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
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Submitted by Anthony Locascio (View user info) at 2005-03-09 02:54:50 EST


Day 1

This is the personal journal of Marjorie Blanchette. I have begun this journal to chronicle the end times that have come upon us. The Apostle Paul is apparently unavailable to begin the documentation of the end times, of the Revelation, so I have taken it upon myself to do God's work.

I give thanks to God that I am still alive. With all of the death that has descended upon this world in the past week, most of the survivors that I have met have cursed Your Name, Lord. If there is proof that mankind will never learn, then I have seen it. What haughtiness, what utter hubris, to think that the plaything we called "society" was the alpha and the omega of existence? What could be a greater illustration of the puny nature of this Godless construct than how quickly it has fallen apart?

I despaired at first. I beg the forgiveness of the Lord for that. When I saw what happened, I thought I had been left behind. There is no mistaking what this is - the end times, the final battle. From where I am sitting right now, I can see all the legions of Hell. To be a witness to Armageddon - what an honor! I shall be here Lord, and I shall see the final book of your Bible penned in as much detail as I am able.

Day 2
-----------------

Nearly a whole day has passed. Forgive me Lord, that I let so much time lapse. The foolish ones left behind would struggle against Your will, and I am caught up with them in fruitless argument and activity.

There are five of us. Or I should say, four. I am here as an observer only. They are the ones that will now face the armies of Satan. One of them, the new mother, has been weeping for nearly an entire day. Her child is lost to her - the maternity ward was on the first floor. It now teems with the servants of the Devil, rotting corpses that shamble about. The flesh of a newborn infant must seem as a delicacy to them, not unlike lamb or veal. The children, her child, all lost. The innocent have been taken to God. Satan now rules over the earth.

Another, the soldier, as I call him, has been doing everything he can to stem the tide of Your mighty wrath. It was he who pulled the fire alarm when the panic first broke out. I'm not certain how long ago that was. When the heavy metal fire doors closed, the flood of the walking dead was held back. Here, on the roof of the hospital, we are equal parts safe and doomed. Where I am standing, I am looking out over a sea of.....I do not know. Fifty thousand? A hundred thousand? A million? I cannot tell. I can only say I have never seen so many people in one place. They crowd every street corner, stand on parked cars, on benches, on sidewalks. They stand in silence, even when the ravens swoop down to peck at their rotting flesh. Their eyes, though, never leave the rooftop where we stand. To a one, they have craned their necks up to stare at the last remains of humanity. They stand silently, a thousand thousand of the walking dead, shoulder-to-shoulder, as far as the eye can see.

This is the end.

Day 3
------------------

I suppose I should write down the others that are my company until the Lord's End comes. I could record their names, but it does not matter. A name is a useless thing now.

There is the mother, who still weeps for her child, but quietly now. I see no ring upon her finger. I wonder at the fate of a child, unbaptized.

There is the soldier, of whom I spoke earlier. A young man, strong in the body, but obviously weak in faith - he does not recognize that to struggle is futile. He does not submit to the will of the Lord. I can hear him now, hammering boards over some of the doorways that he believes is vulnerable.

There is the slut, as I call her, and verily I do enjoy her fear. If there was satisfaction when Jezebel was thrown from the tower and her flesh eaten by dogs, I have that same satisfaction. What now, young harlot, will your long legs, creamy smooth skin, and heaving bosom avail you? What attendant will answwer the sinful call of your lust? I look in her dark brown eyes and see the sin that has brought the shambling dead back from the pits of Hell.

There is the punk. What else can I call him? A snivelling whiner who trembles constantly. I see marks on his arms, perhaps from needles. He is greasy and disheveled, and constantly complains that he "needs it bad". A pitiful figure to have survived, but it will be over for him soon. Then he will know what suffering truly is.

Day 4
-------------------

I return to this journal with satisfaction. The others are coming to accept their fate. I hear them in conversation. They exclude me - I initially refused to help them barricade some of the doors, but the soldier has gathered all of the remaining food and water to be found and threatened to withold rations from me if I did not help. I acquiesced only so that I will have strength to continue my work. Water is plentiful - the taps still work for the moment, and we have filled every bucket and container possible in case they stop. They will of course. It makes me sick to see them struggle against You, Lord. Why will they not repent? What more of a symbol of Your might must they see?

They will see it all before long. Your will be done.

Day 5
-------------------

The provisions dwindle daily. The end is upon us. I almost wretch with disgust at my companions, who have ignored my invitations to repent and be saved. They have written me off as crazy. The punk called me a "witch" and suggested they throw me to the shambling dead below. The soldier stopped him. The slut has taken to comforting the punk, cradling his head. How delightful that the fair beauty is left with a weeping coward as the man she shall end her days with! Your justice is good indeed, Lord, a sight to behold.

Day 6
-------------------

The mother is dead. It is almost a shame - she might have repented before the end came, had she not been so foolish. The food is almost gone - all that could be scrounged from a few vending machines. The cafeteria now seats only the walking dead - it is unreachable. The slut tried to sneak something, a candy bar, I believe, out of the food pile. The mother caught her and the two fought. I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and discovered the most terrifying thing I've ever seen: the dead watched the two women. THEY KNEW WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN. The slut pushed the mother. She fell. I watched as she plummetted. The moment she struck the ground, the dead were upon her.

Can you imagine the sight of a million people surging forward with all of Satan's rage, all at the same time, all towards the same place? Such a thing has never happened in the history. The mother never had time to scream - the dead tore her apart in the blink of an eye. But a barest moment more, and she was gone, devoured in her entirety. The dead feast on the living. Like us, their food supply is dwindling.


Day 8
-----------------

The dead claim their due yet again. The punk is the cause.

The punk is apparently a drug addict of some sort. There were words, loud words, between the soldier and he. He wanted to venture down to some of the lower wards to find morphine. The soldier forbade him - the ways had been carefully barricaded. The punk had sneaked off and dismantled one of them. It seems he thought that way was safe, undiscovered. Five of the walking dead came through. The soldier fought them, tried to hold them back, but four of them set upon him. I saw his face as he struggled and clawed, trying to make it back up the stairs as they gnawed on his legs. I saw blood run from his mouth when one sank its teeth into the back of his neck. They dragged his twitching body away to eat in private.

The punk survived only because of the slut - she kicked and slapped at the one that had attacked until it turned its attention to her. I watched her white blouse turn crimson as it bit into her throat, watched as it gnawed and bit her breasts and shoulders. The punk simply turned and ran out on to the roof, barring the door behind him.

I am looking at the bite marks on his arms and shoulder and wondering what will happen to him.

Day 10
----------------

The world has dwindled to a section of rooftop roughly five hundred square feet in area. The food is gone, but that is not what worries me. The punk is staring at me. That is all he has done for the past two days. I slept for a long time after the last entry, my body trying to make up for the lack of food. There are several five gallon buckets filled with water here, but nothing to eat. Not so much as a pigeon has landed on the rooftop since the End began.

The wounds on the punk's arm have black edges to them. I think I know what is happening to him. He stares at me constantly, muttering to himself, his arms around his knees as he rocks back and forth. His stare never ceases.

For the first time since this started, I am afraid.

Day 11
--------------

Thou shalt not kill. It stands as the fifth commandment. The number ten is a sacred number. Thou shalt not kill resides half way there. Yet I must, I think. The punk no longer rocks. He no longer mutters. He only stares. I will wait until he is asleep.

God forgive me.

Day 12
--------------

It was less than five seconds, but I am exhausted. I cannot sit up. As he slept, I took a piece of concrete from the roof and caved his head in. What came out was purplish-black. The Lord will forgive me...he was already dead. I am safe.


So hungry...

Day 13
--------------

thirteenth day. god rested on the seventh. i am proud.

Day 16
--------------

Nuthing to wright. The dead stare. The dead stair. God...send the manna from heaven, I beg you.


Day 25
--------------
Alone... so tired. sleep mostly,drink some. plenty of water, no food....th punk is still stairing at meee. I cannot look at him...I found myself drooling.

Day 35
--------------

Their is foood. Flesh of my flesh, sez the Lord. Sitting here, wit me on the roof. His flesh, tainted, contagion, cont-tay-gee-on, I will be as they are... the walking dead, the dead stare. The dead stair. The punk...he is meat. This is MY bOdY, which will be given up for you....

Good food, good meat, good God, let's eat.

screaming%20zombie.jpg (20 kB)

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User Reviews


Submitted by notyou (user info) at 2005-07-07 19:21:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2005-05-12 17:44:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

I have just got done reading these all and I have enjoyed them all. Great work everyone, +2's for all!

Submitted by nrduncan (user info) at 2005-05-10 12:32:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Jungle_Jimanee (user info) at 2005-05-06 12:21:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Benny (user info) at 2005-04-06 22:57:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2

No Comment

Submitted by Dannie (user info) at 2005-03-14 11:21:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

EX CEL LENT!!

Submitted by Professional_Peon (user info) at 2005-03-12 11:58:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Here is my contribution - http://www.ubersite.com/m/61730


Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-03-11 17:14:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

good stuff

Submitted by TimeCop (user info) at 2005-03-10 01:50:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Nice.

Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-03-10 00:16:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

HELL YEAH!!!

Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-03-10 00:00:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Stephen King, some short story in some book. Same format/idea, only on a deserted island and with a doctor and cocaine and... Ok, it was reminiscient of it, damnit.













STOP STARING!

Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2005-03-09 15:49:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

babies, When I'm done with you, you will all be wearing gold plated diapers.




Submitted by engine13 (user info) at 2005-03-09 13:16:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Nice.

Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2005-03-09 11:24:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

You rule sir!

Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-03-09 11:11:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Excellent!

Submitted by mbstateside (user info) at 2005-03-09 08:42:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 1

Very nice,

They all join the dark side....................

in the end.

Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-03-09 08:19:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Awesome.

I have one in the works.

Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-03-09 07:44:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

Gold, baby. The lead character's religious fixation was cool...let you write from a very interesting perspective. Nice job, man.

Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-03-09 07:17:52 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

you motherfuckers, i have to get ready for work but i want to finish reading...

Submitted by drky (user info) at 2005-03-09 05:56:04 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

This is great!

Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-03-09 04:53:48 EST (#)
Ranking: 2


Got up to take a piss, stayed up reading this.

I wouldn't change a word. What a great read.


Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2005-03-09 04:08:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 2

I like it. One of the best ATP yet. Very original.


I saw weird stuff in that place last night. Weird, strange, sick,
twisted, eerie, godless, evil stuff. And I want in.

-- Homer Simpson
Homer the Great