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Literature Text
It was obvious from the start that the virus was going to be trouble.
No one could decide what it was, for one. A mutated necrotizing fasciitis? A new kind of staph infection? A biological weapon? None of the world's top scientists could figure it out, and it didn't help that they couldn't keep it for long before something about it changed.
And then it got out.
The first thing it did was make Zombies. People whose flesh would be rotting off the bones but they would stick to life until the last possible moment. In agony, wanting every breath to be the last, but living none the less. There was nothing to do once it presented. No matter how much skin and muscle was cut away, there was no hope.
We thought that would be the worst until the Angels. Once infected, they would incubate the virus until it killed them, suddenly and without warning. They could be driving, having a conversation, anything. Immediate heart failure and instant cessation of brain activity.
There was no vaccine. Suicide rates skyrocketed all over the world. There was nothing but chaos with the way the virus spread. A city would have a single Zombie, but a mile away bodies would be blocking the streets from all the Angels.
That was when my family decided to put me in a cryo unit. They weren't too common those days, and the only reason we had one was in case of emergency. After the first Zombies showed up, any commercial units were sold within days.
We set the date for one hundred years. Enough for all of this to blow over, or at least some kind of prevention or test. They assured me everything was going to be fine and that they had secured units for themselves that would be arriving later in the week. I didn't really believe them, but I still wanted to hope. They hid the unit in a storage area under our apartment building, so no one would unfreeze me and use it themselves.
The last thing I remember from back then was seeing my dad and sister walk out and the lights go off in the storage room before the final systems kicked in and I slept.
No one could decide what it was, for one. A mutated necrotizing fasciitis? A new kind of staph infection? A biological weapon? None of the world's top scientists could figure it out, and it didn't help that they couldn't keep it for long before something about it changed.
And then it got out.
The first thing it did was make Zombies. People whose flesh would be rotting off the bones but they would stick to life until the last possible moment. In agony, wanting every breath to be the last, but living none the less. There was nothing to do once it presented. No matter how much skin and muscle was cut away, there was no hope.
We thought that would be the worst until the Angels. Once infected, they would incubate the virus until it killed them, suddenly and without warning. They could be driving, having a conversation, anything. Immediate heart failure and instant cessation of brain activity.
There was no vaccine. Suicide rates skyrocketed all over the world. There was nothing but chaos with the way the virus spread. A city would have a single Zombie, but a mile away bodies would be blocking the streets from all the Angels.
That was when my family decided to put me in a cryo unit. They weren't too common those days, and the only reason we had one was in case of emergency. After the first Zombies showed up, any commercial units were sold within days.
We set the date for one hundred years. Enough for all of this to blow over, or at least some kind of prevention or test. They assured me everything was going to be fine and that they had secured units for themselves that would be arriving later in the week. I didn't really believe them, but I still wanted to hope. They hid the unit in a storage area under our apartment building, so no one would unfreeze me and use it themselves.
The last thing I remember from back then was seeing my dad and sister walk out and the lights go off in the storage room before the final systems kicked in and I slept.
This is still a little rough. I just wrote it after finishing my final final math test. YAY! NO MORE HIGHSCHOOL MATH!!
This is told from Dren's point of view (sorry about the name change. I totally already used that one in another story I might put on here and I was out of names at the time). He's nineteen. It's a little weird, because it's really on a preview, but I'm getting there.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: [link]
Chapter 3: [link]
Chapter 4: [link]
Chapter 5: [link]
This is told from Dren's point of view (sorry about the name change. I totally already used that one in another story I might put on here and I was out of names at the time). He's nineteen. It's a little weird, because it's really on a preview, but I'm getting there.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2: [link]
Chapter 3: [link]
Chapter 4: [link]
Chapter 5: [link]
© 2009 - 2024 Leah-the-Red
Comments13
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Overall Vision Originality Technique ImpactFirst, I would like to apologize for the lack of promptness in my behavior -- someday, your prize will be finished as well.
or started -shot-
What you have created here is a very interesting prelude. The start is rather impacting and got me interested.
The system you've created in this is unique; I'm mostly referring to the bit about the Angels. It gives the description a bit of a punch to the gut and helps to visualize better the effect.
In vision, the story lacks a bit in flow. Every sentence is more of a statement than a recollection. While it does give the effect of indifference for the events that passed and makes it seem more nostalgic, it seems a bit over the top.
Technically, there are a few trouble spots that sort of inhibit my ability to become absorbed in without a bump in reading, to which I am referring to a couple of odd-sounding sentences and the such. For example, comma usage in the last sentence of the second paragraph, or to be more precise, the sentence "People whose flesh would be rotting off the bones but they would stick to life until the last possible moment." While there is a fun bit of word play, the sentence reads something close to tripping over oneself.
The other trouble spots I see are the constant usage of simple sentences. While they certainly create the indifferent effect required for this type of introduction and recollection, a solid chapter of them reminds me of my first attempt at trying to drive a stick-shift.
However, the story itself has all of its good points I fail to mention. One of the best points that I can think of right now is that I plan to read the rest. It sounds odd, but that's quite an accomplishment. I'm not trying to glorify myself, I'm just completely disinterested in reading things most of the time
I'm sorry it took so long, and I definitely apologize if I am out of my place to recommend and point out everything I did.