Darkraven

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Abandoned Apartment Building, Southwest Missouri

Valentina woke up where she fell asleep - behind a dressing table with a tell tale smashed oval mirror. Not even sleep would deliver her from her misery, as in her ceaseless nightmares, everything that happened that brought her to this state of things happened all over again, mercilessly, drowning and choking. She woke up feeling clammy and hot and rotten, and faint memories of better mornings only made it worst. She woke from her nightmares, only to return to another, the memories of her unfortunately close unfortunate past disguised as nightmares still fresh on her mind.

Despite smashing the oval mirror, Valentina accidentally caught a look of her blind right eye on a shard, and quickly turned away, the instinct having long became a knee-jerk response. Angry, she swept the shards away, not caring that she had cut herself slightly - she had suffered worst things, such as being branded by a Biker gang leader, and a cut was a small price to pay for not looking at her milky white iris again.

The damage, however, was already done. Getting up, Valentina did not make it very far. Aching from sleeping on a stool and table, she slumped down on the filthy mattress by the pile of things she found yesterday night. It actually felt comfortable, having never slept in a proper bed for weeks. With only misery for company to snuggle with, Valentina could not help but to descend into her memories once again as it had, like a disgustingly beautiful parasite, wormed itself into her head...

"But Daddy, why are we going to the gas station?" Valentina queried, curious as to why they were driving an extra distance to shop for groceries. Though it meant an extra half hour travelling time, Valentina did not actually mind - it meant seeing something different outside the car windows, different people, different buildings, different dogs, cats, cars. Things seemed different however. Everyone was in a rush, and everyone was doing a lot of shopping lately. It seemed odd to Valentina, as it wasn't even the 4th of July, nor Thanksgiving nor Christmas yet, "Why aren't we going down to Sa'at's Mart anymore?"

"Things are changing, Lapushka." Valentina's father replied curtly, his eyes watching the road sternly, as if he was afraid he might actually hit something. Valentina was puzzled by her father's reaction. He would normally smile, and he would normally look... lively and radiant despite the strands of grey hair on his beard and scalp. Valentina loves it Whenever he called her Lapushka or Solnyshko or Dochenka. This time, however, there were lines all over his face, and he was constantly rubbing his temples. It was different this time. Valentina rarely saw her father doing that, and only when he was in his office at home, making phonecalls and scribbling a lot of stuff on his notepads, "Mr Sa'at is no longer around."

"Is he in Turkey to visit his family?" Valentina asked - Salman Sa'at, as she knew the family's favorite shopkeeper, was always flying back to his home country, just like how she and her family would every year. To this question, her father did not reply, but was still busy concentrating on the road, rubbing his forehead. There were even more lines on his face, as if her question had added them there. "Why aren't we buying the groceries as a family?"

"Mama had to buy other groceries from elsewhere with Vertov and Valerie, Doch..." To Valentina's other question, the father replied. The girl, however, noticed an odd look on his face, as if her father had lost concentration of the road for a moment. His eyes were peering elsewhere, somewhere far away, but when Valentina looked where he was looking at, she saw nothing. For a moment, she found her own gesture stupid, however, as the car was going rather fast. Silence reigned again as soon as her question was answered, and Valentina returned her gaze to the left of the car. She loved riding shotgun as it was the best place to look out. Which was when she saw a whole bunch of people, and the way they walk she thought was funny and weird. They looked like they hadn't eaten for days, she thought as her car whipped past, and soon the bunch of people was gone.

When they reached the gas station, it was so difficult to find a place to park that Valentina's father had resorted to parking partly on the sidewalk at the carpark. Even the girl knew it was a little off and wrong, but she didn't want to argue. After they got out of the car, they held hands and began walking. The girl found it hard to keep up with her father, as he was walking briskly, faster than his usual pace. "Valentina, you must listen to me." Her father said quite out of the blue, "I vant you to take everything, everything, you understand? It doesn't matter vhat you take, just take them." Valentina was puzzled by her father's strange instructions. On every other grocery days, she knew her father to be more meticulous with the spending, and would normally provide a list of things to buy. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy-" Which was when the father stopped all of a sudden, pulling on Valentina to make sure she followed. On the horizon of the street, something huge was coming closer, fast. There seemed to be explosions in the distance, and seconds later, Valentina realised that it was a huge truck, smashing past cars and lorries and even people. The crimson hue of blood paralysed her. All of a sudden, she felt weak and cold, faint. It was coming closer, quickly. The violence. She had never really seen such a thing before. Her father had to carry her and run back to where they came from. Vaulting over a stone fence seperating the carpark from the street outside, her father laid her down and hid. Bangings, louder each time.

"Don't look, my Lapushka!" Her father said as he ducked and covered his ears, anticipating an explosion. He had seen was the truck was carrying. It was an oil tanker truck, and it was smashing its way towards the gas station.

Valentina was dazed, her ears singing. She felt faint. Could not think. She had seen people smashed against the bumper and grill of the truck, falling to pieces, screaming in the distance. She wondered if it was over, and decided to peek over the stone fence they were hiding behind, her father's instructions barely registering, and even then her brain was at a standstill.

A huge explosion. A tiny, miniscule glass shard, once a part of a window made in a far away factory to be mounted on the gas station window, freed itself from its place along with millions of its brothers. Propelled by the explosion that resulted from the violent crash, it flew yards, across the street, sidewalks and over the stone fence, and finally into Valentina's right eye.

Half the return journey was spent in burning, hellish pain, crying both blood and tears, unlike anything she had ever felt before in her short life. Not even the warmth of her father's caring embrace could mitigate, even slightly, the insanity raging through her nerves. His words fell on ears that listened only inwards before becoming faint as nothing outside the crucible that was her eye and the glass shard within it mattered in the moment. She spent the other half of her return journey (and the rest of the day) unconscious and unable to savour the last few rays of light registering in her right eye. It was a message that did not require her surgeon to tell her.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Writing a second flashback for my character...

EDIT: Posted.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Haha there seems to be a lot of government officials running around. I guess their most recent recruitment drive was far more successful than planned. Anyway, I kinda like it. My only grip with your piece is the punctuation in the dialogue. It seems to be missing a lot of commas, for example, and it messed up the pacing and therefore my reading experience.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Yeah, that was awesome. Man, he must be really, really hungry.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Azseth said
On a serious note, Arlear, and EVERYONE.This RP is CLOSED to new members at the moment.Exceptions are people who're waiting on samples, or final edits. I might let in people if a current player vouches for them.I plan to start this RP NO LATER THAN next weekend, but earlier.AFTER I post the THIRD TEASER, the IC will be KINDASORTA open a LITTLE BIT. However, it will NOT be open at "today" in the RP. The IC will be opened to past events and flashbacks. Kind of like Fuad and Terry in the second teaser. Where were your chars months/weeks/days before we start? Feel free to post, BUT AFTER THE THIRD TEASER!!!!!Az

Arlear said
The RP will open up again later. It's only closed until things get rolling, at which point we will take in new characters. ^^ Just wait a week or two when we're on the roll, and submit a CS to Az or I.

Pretty much what the GM and Co-GM said. Well, at least until they say otherwise.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Oh man, just had a fridge horror moment. How much damage can 9 months of solitary confinement do to a little girl? I have a feeling I'm going to see much worse things than that, AnriuSB :D

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

First flashback post for the win! Will post more later!

Tell me how it is guys if there's some inconsistent facts I need to change or something. Like I don't even know if Southwest Missouri had apartment buildings... :D

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Abandoned Apartment Building, Southwest Missouri

Silence. Ever since much of the fighting between the living and the dead died down, bringing with it the hideous cacophony of gunshots, desperate screams and moans, silence ruled Missouri. From the streets of the big cities to one particular room... At least until something broke. Out of the entrance into a ventilation shaft, a curious form crawled out and stood not very high, putting on its childish backpack again. It was Valentina. Looking quickly around the room, she realised she was alone - which had, weeks ago, became the best blessing she could ever wish for, and even better, that the door was blocked amply by several furniture: A huge king-sized bed with a cabinet and table stacked on top of it. The only light that allowed her to see was coming from her flashlight, which she tried not to think came from her elder brother, Vertov.

The air was cold. Being indoors did little to keep Valentina warm. The room was dark, and she could never get used to it, to being afraid whenever she did such a thing. Footsteps stomped in the ceiling, and there was a crash below the floor. The apartment building was haunted by the dead. "Ugh..." She could barely shrug the thought of sharing an apartment building with a horde of biters (as she calls them) just a few doors away, even if she was well barricaded from them.

Sweeping her flashlight around the room, she found stacks of some stuff in a corner. Quite faintly, she thought someone might have tried living in the room, and there was a door leading to another. Pulling her revolver out of its holster, she tried not to think that it came from her elder sister, and pointed it at the door. There was banging inside. Valentina could not help but to breathe heavily. Crossing her arms at the wrists to support her gun arm like how Lieutenant Hugh taught her to do, the act relieved the ache in her arms quickly, having been exhausted from crawling and climbing the vents. There was banging inside, methodical banging. Something was howling and wailing inside ceaselessly. The girl tried not to wish that Daddy was with her.

Gripping the knob and twisting it with her left hand left her defenseless - months before she had learnt to switch to shooting with her left hand because of her blind right eye - but she had no choice. It was either be defenseless or completely blind, and the fear that she would lose her only working eye would leave her paralysed with fright. After pushing it open, letting the door swing open noiselessly, she brought her revolver up quickly, only to discover an empty toilet. The window was open, and the wind was strong. The medicine cabinet was slamming shut and opening again as a result. It angered Valentina. She hates being frightened like that. Marching up to the window, she shut it tight, making sure to lock it tight. The last time she didn't do it had costed her a safe place to sleep, forcing her to wander in the night without sleep and with a mind horribly flayed by sleep deprivation, fear and stress by morning.

It was the first time she had ever dared to enter an apartment building, and she did so out of desperation, not that she had ever stopped being desperate ever since her last friend, Lieutenant Hugh, was killed by a Biker gang. She tried not to remember. For weeks she had been running and hiding, stealing and even killing. She thought it would all go away when she dared to enter the dark places where even the Biker gang that killed her strong soldier friend would not dare to go. In the months that follow she would be proven wrong. There would never be enough food, as every room where vast stores of it could be found were occupied by too many of 'them' to be raided. Again, she wished for her family to be with her again, but sensing tears starting to form in both her good and bad eyes, she stopped - she never knew she could stop thinking about something until she had to, ever since Valerie sacrificed herself for the family.

With the room seemingly safe, Valentina thought about moving her 'secret places' into the vents and the room, which she wanted to become her new 'sleeping place' or sleep spot. Hiding things, Valentina thought, was like setting up a game of treasure hunt, and even better, without ever giving the hunters any clues. It became something she was good at, as it turns out, from all those games she would help to make possible whenever the relatives came to visit from Russia. She knew that it would be an exhausting task, having already tired herself after exploring the vents for half a day with nothing to pull or push around. Her closest secret place had big guns - guns bigger than pistols that she could not yet use, even one that was alot heavier than her Hello Kity backpack - not to mention many replacements for her equipment whenever she needed them. There were cans of food that she could not yet open - somehow, for the life of her, she could never find a can opener, and her knives won't cut them open. She couldn't help but to feel too weak or dumb to get those things open.

After clearing the toilet, she wanted to look through the piles of things at the corner of the room, where the bed used to be. Coming out, she saw that they were by the mattress, which looked a little filthy, and when she crosses the room, she thought she saw someone, or something, walk by her. It felt as though someone was gripping her heart and lungs when she realised and pointed her flashlight and revolver at it... Only to discover a dressing table with an oval mirror.

Mirrors are bad. It was what Valentina believed in. But it had been months, many months, since she looked into one. She had nearly forgotten how she looked like, willfully trying to forget. She was mesmerised by the dressing table, but afraid of it. She kept the flashlight away, afraid to see. Yet she was curious. She wanted to see. It had been too long. The feeling was welling up in her. She inched closer, and finally gave in. After sighing in submission, she inched closer to the dressing table, and sat down on a stool beside it. After another moment of hesitation, she noticed a grip where a lightbulb used to be, just large enough, and set Vertov's Tactical Torchlight there.

Before Valentina looked, she closed her eyes. She remembered stories that Mother used to tell, stories that she would repeat in her head to herself every day so that she would remember with crystal clarity. Cinderella and The Ugly Duckling. Chicken Soup stories. Removing the pirate eye patch thing she managed to scrounge up from somewhere, she took a deep breath and looked.

Nothing changed. There was no princess or swan in the mirror, no miracles that used to happen in the church she went to what seemed like forever ago. A milky white right eye. The frowning scar down her left cheek. Tears fell, and the utter sadness that was stuck in Valentina, forbidden from coming out by the constant need to run, hide and fight came back overwhelming. No longer caring about the reanimated stomping above the ceiling and below the floor, she cried and screamed, and with her revolver, smashed the mirror, producing a rippling crack. She cried into her own arm, and could only be more sad when she realised it was her own arm, and not Daddy's, nor Mommy's, not even that of Lieutenant Hugh. There, she cried herself to sleep.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Gonna start work on my flashbacks? :D

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Lol The Crazies... Reminds me of that Stephen King movie. Kinda liked it. How appropriate. :D