I recently finished my first year of A levels and I can’t believe how quickly it went. One of these A levels is Creative Writing. For this I had to write 2 pieces of Coursework of my choice. I wrote a short story and a news paper article. I thought I’d show you a bit of a story I wrote, I wanted to use this but didn’t; I would give you a preview of my story and article right now but I don’t want to be failed on account of cheating and getting it off the internet.
Any way here it is. It’s about a post apocalyptic world. I hope you enjoy it and I’ll talk to you guys soon.
Also this is taken from the middle of the story.
I can’t think about this, it’s horrible and I need to keep walking to get to Cadair. I need to leave this house before they find me. Some are fast and some are slow but once you get within arms reach of the monsters you’re done for. Sometimes they will bite you and infect you, other times they would destroy you to get to your brain. It’s true what they say in the stories. That’s all they can eat to stay alive, or dead, undead? Depends which way you look at it.
They did that to my dad, destroyed him I mean. After the snarling I heard some go back downstairs and others go into the spare room. I ran into mum and dads room. Big. Mistake. My dad was lying motionless on the bed, blood dripping from his head. I looked over to my mum, only it wasn’t her. The mum I knew had long brown wavy hair and deep ocean blue eyes, a petite nose and a beautiful smile that would make anyone melt in her palms. But this woman, this thing, was not the mother I saw everyday and loved, she has midnight black eyes and matted black hair covered in fresh blood and a chunk of flesh taken out of her neck and this woman, this woman was devouring what was left of the dead body on the bed. Then it saw me.
I’ve been in this house for 3 days now, there’s no more food and ½ a 2-litre bottle of water, and I’m leaving today. While it’s light because in the dark you need to be in a secure location or they’ll find you. I’m almost at Cadair; ‘just a few more days and I’ll be safe’ I keep telling myself.
I started off in Birmingham, quickly fled to Shrewsbury with other uninfected but the undead quickly caught onto our scent and 10 descended to 5. The 5 of us continued and arrived at a deserted Welshpool. Whilst stopping for supplies on day 35 there was another attack. 5 became 3. We knew we couldn’t form bonds because it was just a matter of time before 3 would become 0. On day 38 we reached Newtown and decided to go our separate ways. I was pretty stuck after that because the others headed south for Merthyr Tydfil and I was heading west. Now day 69 and I’m in Machynlleth, I would probably be there by now if I hadn’t fallen onto a massive glass shard in a nearby church and had to wait for my leg to heal. I can’t think about that I just need to keep looking forward and getting to the mountain and safe house.
I’ve skipped a bit and now here is another section
The year is 2043 and I’m 15. Tris is 13 and it is New Years Eve. This is the first one as a family because half of us live in Birmingham and the other half live in Australia and we hardly ever see each other. There are about 27 of us and they’re coming round to our house for New Years. It’s about 7:00 in the evening and Tris and I have been setting up all day for tonight and we’re really excited. Only, when they arrive this isn’t my original memory of New Years. They’re all groaning and lifeless, their eyes are pitch black and their faces are covered in blood. Their dresses and suits are all ripped to shreds and they are all missing chunks of flesh from either their necks or their arms. They’re infected. I turn and run but suddenly mum and dad aren’t themselves anymore. They’re infected. I turn to Tris who’s cowering in the corner shouting my name but nothing’s coming out. Or maybe it is but I can’t hear her. All I can hear are growls and groans from 26 Zombies circling me.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.
This is real.
Surrounding me in the store there are over 2 dozen of them. Thick rotting blood dripping from their mouths as if salivating, wanting my flesh and blood. Their faces were skinless as if they were burn victims from a mental asylum. I had to get out of here.
I crawled under their legs. Their ripped trousers revealed burned legs, The stench of rotting flesh filled my nostrils and burned my insides forcing me to wretch. I hadn’t eaten in about a day so all that came out as I vomited was bile. I needed to eat. The pricks still haven’t noticed that I’ve got out and I’m heading for the exit.
Then she was there. She looked like a horrific burn victim, she had no skin on her face, my guess is it was chewed off my other zombies before she became one of them. No eyelids made her eyeballs pop out looking like they had swivelled in their sockets searching for her next meal. Me. She still had her petite frame but her deep brown eyes were now bright red, staring eagerly into mine ready for me to fall into her grasp. Her long brown hair was now short like a boys, and as if she had cut it herself. She was possessed. She wasn’t my Tris. She was theirs now.
Hope you guys enjoyed it. This is about a sixth of the story maybe not even that but I really enjoyed writing it and hope you enjoy reading it; are you guys interested in writing prose?