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Enduring Existence

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"Here, this is how you do the E Major chord, watch me," the voice said sternly. As the student sat across the table, he watched Noah perform the chord on the guitar before taking it into his own hands and playing the same chord in repetition. "Good, you're a fast learner. Keep going, I'll be back to check your progression in 15 minutes. Try and learn an A major by yourself while I'm gone."

His last day of work seemed to fly, yet Noah decided to stay after work hours and continue planning further work assignments for his students. His idea was to hopefully gain enough spare time so he could begin teaching his daughter how to drive over the weekend. Only the fall of society had different plans.

Noah's radio that had been propped up in the top corner of the shelf in his office began to transmit static. The rough distinction of a voice came through notifying all citizens to evacuate the city, "Unknown virus outbreak... evac-... the city isn't sa-..." The message played over as it began to sink into Noah's mind. He sat in his chair frozen, like a small shrub on Christmas morning. It was a moment of chaos in Noah's conscience. He eventually came back to reality before rushing to grab his things, running to his small sedan in the local high schools car-park. He sat in his car, grabbing at the steering wheel with white knuckles before putting his keys in the ignition and driving off toward his home.

Noah was a medium built man who seemed to have aged quicker than other men his age. His broad shoulders and thick stubble showed his masculine side while the wrinkles on his cheeks showed the fragile nature of his complexity. It showed the effort it takes to be a single father of a teenage daughter.

After a rough ten minute drive from the school, he began to pull into the driveway of the small apartment complex he and his daughter lived in. He parked quickly before making his way upstairs to his room. The stairs creaked as he ran.

Noah had reached the end of the small hallway and began banging on the door of his home and the door swung open. He was greeted by his daughter, the interaction brief as Noah rushed through the house and began to pack basic survival gear. "Riley... turn on the news for me darlin'," he spoke softly yet loud enough to be considered serious. "CNN would be best."

The two sat on their couch, surrounded by the belongings they planned to take with them. The television streamed the news quietly into the room, the darkness caused the constant screen flickering to dance across the walls. "All citizens are advised to evacuate the city while authorities sort out all growing dangers for the public," the news anchor spoke. "Fresno is under extreme danger and all major highways out of the city have been opened. We advice all citizens to evacuate as soon as possible."

Riley looked to her father, her soft green eyes and semi-pale face dimmed in the dying light of the television. "Well what are we waiting for? Let's get going!" her voice was concerned and harsh toward Noah, he looked at her in an agreeing manor. "Take your things to the car, we're out of here..." The two began packing their belongings into the car immediately before jumping in, sitting in the front together.

Noah unfolded a map of California and placed it on the dashboard of his small sedan. "I'm thinking we drive north, Yosemite Valley seems our best bet at this stage, darlin'."

-- 1 hour later --

Noah kept his eyes on the road, focusing on anything that may cross in front of him to avoid any sort of accident. The further they traveled, the more worried Riley grew as she looked out at the families walking, calling for help. Their cries drowned out by the sound of the engine. "Why aren't we stopping, dad?" Riley asked, her face looked sincere. "Look... darlin', it's either them out there or us... we can't trust the desperate people anymore... desperation brings the worst out in people," Noah sighed, he didn't even like what he said even if it was the truth.

As the Parker family continued driving along the highway North out of Fresno, their sedans engine had begun to make puffing noises. Noah disregarded the noise and continued driving. Soon enough, they'd been forced to pull over to the side of the road and stop. The engine had shit itself. "God damn things busted..." Noah scuffed as he peaked from over the bonnet of the sedan. "We're walkin'."

"By the looks of this map here we got at least another 40 miles to go, daddy." Riley spoke, she sounded annoyed. Noah peaked over at her, briefly looking down at the map before nodding forward, "Complainin' ain't gonna help our situation." Noah paused for a moment, "Get goin'."

They walked through the early night, before resting in an old farm house. It's shutters on the windows hung from their hinges and the paint on the front door had begun to peel. Noah boarded the front door shut with a chair and rested in the lounge room on the couch. They rested there for the night.

As the sun rose over the hills, the grass shone a strong golden colour as the wind blew through it weakly. Riley had woken up an hour or two before Noah and decided to set up a poor attempt of breakfast. "Better then nothing, hey?" she laughed, looking at her worn father. He smiled, "You bet." They ate their food before packing up the small mess they'd made back into their packs, Noah had his guitar sling around his shoulders and Riley had her small backpack already on.

As they were leaving the back door, Noah opened a cupboard in hopes of finding any last supplies before they left on thier way. He found a hunting rifle propped in the darkest corner with a box of ammo next to it. "Score," he said to himself as he held it in his left hand. "Let's check the outside for anything we may need."

The farm house was a lottery. Noah walked around the back of the barn, stomping through the long grass. "Well looky here... Can you ride a horse?" he yelled out, hoping for a quick response. He didn't get one. "No daddy, I haven't even touched a horse..."

Noah had found some saddles in the barn and tightly strapped them onto both horses. He walked them around to the front of the house and began to help Riley onto hers. "Beginners luck I say. Have at it. Get comfortable and we'll go. Remember to take it easy." The two had settled on their horses with their supplies either on their backs or in their laps. The continued on North toward Yosemite Valley.

The horses jogged along with a steady pace, it drained a majority of the day and finally the two had reached Yosemite. They dropped from the saddle and began to setup a fire in the hills over looking the tourist camp. They believed they'd have a scout of the place before they'd enter.

"Hey daddy, play me a song."


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Just letting everyone know that the idea for this thread is swapping between several survivor groups around the world pre-outbreak and post-outbreak to sort of get an idea of what's going on globally. I think this idea will be something different and interesting instead of focusing on just one set group.

Other people that I'm speaking too in Skype will be also contributing their own spice to the thread putting in short stories for their characters as well, so it won't be just me posting content in here.

Hopefully you all like the reads that are coming up, we have some nice ideas planned already :P

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Amanda Struss

"You bring the jack?" Markus asked as he got into Amy's pristine 1974 Ford Maverick. In the dark, the midnight-blue paint made the muscle car appear black.

"Of course, kitten," Amy said, shooting him a smirk as she jerked a thumb in the direction of the back seat. "Not my first time boosting a ride, Markie."

He scowled at Amy as he buckled in. He hated that nickname, but Amy just loved to get a rise out of him, the surly bastard.

Markus was a tall, Italian man with dark hair, in his twenties, a few years older than Amy. He was a smarmy, cocky son of a bitch, but Amy trusted him, even liked him. They'd worked together on many jobs over the past couple of years, and he'd saved her ass on more than one or two occasions.

"Alright, just checking," he said as he got comfortable in her ride. He adjusted the seat, sliding it back as far as it would go, and reclined it. A cigarette went to his lips while he focused on a small plastic baggy that came out of his pocket.

Amy put the Maverick in gear, the engine growling, and drove off from the suburban neighborhood that Markus called home. Turning north on the freeway, they cruised at a good 80 miles-per-hour through the warm night, while the rest of Sacramento buzzed with the news that was on everyone's lips.

Amy flipped on the radio, tuning it to a local rock station. Naturally, the radio DJ was talking about the Infection.

"You know, you keep hearing about this, and some people even think it's all kinds of wicked stuff," the DJ said. "Aliens, vampires, mutants, zombies, I mean---who cares? The police will put 'em down, and if not, then the Army will. All you need to do is keep rocking on, my little drones!" He laughed, and a radio sound effect accentuated his words with a robotic statement:

"Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!"

Amy glanced at Markus, who was smirking.

"And now, we have some Rob Zombie coming up next," the DJ informed his listeners. "'Demonoid Phenomenom', comin' at you on..."

Amy switched lanes as the the rock music pumped out of the Maverick's speakers. "You think it'll get taken care of?" Amy asked after the chorus.

"What?" Markus sniffed loudly as he inhaled a line of cocaine up one nostril. He coughed once or twice, did the usual soft "whoo", and shrugged. "I don't know, man. It's just another disease the media likes to get people worked up about. Same shit happens every damn year. One year it's Mad Cow Disease. The next it's Bird Flu. After that, Ebola, I mean, fuck." He thumbed his nose, and tilted his head back, sniffling. "You want one?" he asked, holding out a CD case with a few white lines trailed across a KMFDM album.

Amy nodded, waited for a straight on the freeway, and lowered her head over the plastic tray. She took a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill from Markus and used it to snort half a line up one nostril, followed by the rest in the opposite nostril.

She instantly put a hand to her nose, sniffling loudly as the powder made it's way into her nasal cavities. Eyes on the road, she swallowed a few times as the numbness began to creep into her lips, teeth and gums. An energetic and alert sense of euphoria came over her as the cocaine almost immediately entered her bloodstream, made it's path through her circulatory system, and entered her brain.

"Damn," she murmured.

"Right?" Markus replied with a laugh. "Fucking Enzo, man. Always has the best cola." He snorted another line as Amy took the offramp into one of the more "privileged" areas of the city.

"But what if it gets really bad?" Amy asked as they came to a red light. She looked over at Markus, who looked relaxed, but equally alert as she felt.

He gave another loose shrug. "What? You afraid it's gonna be the end of the world? You?" He laughed. "Could'a fooled me, Amy Strange."

She quirked her lips and rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever. Better hope I'm there to save your ass when shit hits the fan." She shot him a sneaky smirk.

"Yeah? What about the time you tried to shake down that lawyer and he had those two fat dudes try and rough you up?" He reached over and tugged gently on a lock of her black hair. "Who was there, huh?"

Amy laughed. "I can't believe he actually hired those two bums."

"Dressed them up in suits and everything," Markus added, snickering.

"I seriously think one of them pissed themselves when you showed u---"

Without any warning, someone pounded against Amy's window, yelling loudly.


Amy, while surprised, was irritated more than startled. "Hey, stop fucking pounding on my window, you idiot!" she yelled angrily. "I don't want your fucking flat screen!"

Markus had already gone for his gun, of course. Impulsive ass.

Amy put a hand on his wrist. "Relax, Markie. He's just a CRACKHEAD," she explained, raising her voice at that last word, and giving the tweaker a pointed, narrow-eyed look.

She jerked her head to the side. "How about you fuck off, kitten?" The stoplight had turned green, and Amy put the Maverick into gear.

But she didn't have a chance to apply pressure to the gas before someone else barreled straight into the crackhead at break-neck speed. Both toppled over in a pile of clothes, limbs and shouts.

"Whoa, what the fuck?" Markus exclaimed as he sat up in his seat to get a better look at the action on the other side of Amy's window.

Amy peered through the window as well.

She saw blood, and more blood. The attacker had his face buried in the man's neck, and was lifting his head, and lowering it again, swiftly and incessantly. Spurts of dark liquid arced into the air, even smattering against Amy's driver-side door.

"Whoa, what the FUCK, man!" Amy yelled against the window as her foot compressed the Maverick's brakes.

"What are you doing!?" Markus yelled. "Drive, girl! Get us the fuck out of here! It's one of them!"

"What...?" Amy was confused, but then his words sunk in.

It was true. The Infected had been on everyone's tongues, on every talk show or news station. Everyone had speculated about its containment, and while confidence always remained high whenever the CDC or the President reported on the Infection's status, it seemed the world-changing sickness was spreading into everyone's cities, neighborhoods, schools---your front lawn.

"Go!" Markus shouted, putting a hand over hers on the stick-shift. "Drive!"

The car stalled. Amy tried to focus and turn the key in the ignition, foot on the clutch.

But then Markus was gone. She looked over just in time to see his feet as he was pulled from the car through the half-open passenger window.

"MARKUS!" she screamed as he disappeared into a mass of veined hands and arms.


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Duncan struck a match before leaning over to the pre-made fire, lighting it with ease. He leaned back, watching the growing flames. Duncan sat propped up against a wall and began to pull off his torn socks and laying them close to the fire. Above him was a small man-made shelter constructed from old street signs and tarps. The shelter had kept the falling snow from settling in thick layers on him as he slept.

The man sat with his arms rested on his raised knees, watching the silhouette of his shaking hands in the flames. He blew puffs of steam out of his nostrils as he continually tapped the ground with his left foot, his boot compressed the sound.

-- 18 Months Earlier --

"How many inside, chief?" Duncan asked as he peered over at his commander. The two connected eyes before walking toward a four story apartment complex in down town New York, it was engulfed in flames. The commander looked over at an Ambulance who was treating a young lady in her mid twenties, he looked back toward the fire and spoke, "Her son is still inside, somewhere on the third floor. She said she tried busting down his bedroom door but the smoke weakened her," the commander took a breathe, "You are our final resort here, Webb."

Duncan quickly dressed himself in his uniform and equipped the oxygen tank, connecting it to his mask. He looked back at his commander who looked at him with confidence. "Watch my ass when I'm up there. I want to go home tonight."

Upon squeezing through a burst out window on the second floor, Duncan began to walk through the flames, extinguishing whatever flame posed direct threat. He reached the staircase and began climbing. "I really hope this is a happy ending," he muttered to himself.

Duncan began searching through the separate apartments on the third floor before he came across the young boys bedroom. He kicked it down after several attempts and grabbed the boy and proceeded to carry him outside and down the ladder to the Ambulance. Duncan leaned down, panting and rubbing soot from his cheeks. "Good job kid. You did great today," said the Commander, patting Duncan on the back.

Hours later while Duncan was watching the local news, a segment came on explaining the situation he was involved in at the apartments. "The young mother of a boy has been given the horrible news of his passing. We send our condolences out to her. Let us give a moment of silence to the young life we've lost today. Rest In Piece, Oliver."

-- Today --

As the infected roamed the frozen streets below Duncan's make-shift home, he hard boiled a can of beans on the fire. As they began to cook, he looked over to the blank chair opposite his fire, speaking to it as if it was his friend, "Olly, we'll share once it's done. It's nearly done, Olly." Duncan's face looked excited as he watched the empty fold-out garden chair.

"I was thinkin' I'd head out on the streets and search for some more food. I mean we haven't bothered checking out the coffee shop on the corner yet, I think it might have some old muffins. Have you ever had muffins, Olly?" Duncan waited for an answer, not getting one. "No need to be shy. I'll bring you a muffin so you can try it. Trust me." Duncan smiled once more at the empty chair.

Duncan stood up after eating half the can of beans and leaving the other half. He began to look down at the streets and watched as the infected piled toward a cross section. The rough distinction of a car rang and a taxi slid around a corner, crashing into the sidewalk. Duncan climbed down from his makeshift home toward the road, reaching the taxi within the half hour.

"Hello?" he called as he approached the taxi. Duncan tapped the windshield once before peaking over the passenger side door and into the cab. He repeated himself, "Hello?" Nothing. He turned and dropped an approaching infected and walked off toward the middle of the street.

The book store Duncan had set fire to the night before still burnt and the bodies of infected in the sewers he had also burnt continued to crisp. As he stood in the road he considered wandering off to grab Oliver that muffin.


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-- April 8th, 2010 --

Elijah walks up the stairs to his apartment. It sat on the 2nd floor of a run down hotel. As he approachedhis door he noticed a flyer on his door, the top left corner was hanging from the staple used to stick it to the door. In big red letters Elijah noticed the eviction notice and how his apartment had been taken back by the land-lord. He was left without any of his possessions and had no money to pay for them back. He walked back toward the stairs and sat down the bottom, staring at his feet with a drooped and depressed face. His bright blue eyes began to water before he rubbed his lower jaw, moving his hand upward toward his eyes, wiping them.

-- July 17th, 2012 --

Elijah walked along a track nearby a large train station, hoping to slip into a luggage cart as a train would be departing. He had been hitching rides in trains for a good part of a year so he had grown quite used to how to do it. Bullet trains had been racing past him all day and he took a breathe of relief everytime the wind caused by the passing train rushed through his hair. The sensation gave him a short-lived freedom, as if he was flying on clouds.

The feeling of travel made him feel alive. He looked forward to experiencing the differing European countries, each one would be different to the last he'd visited.

Elijah heard the sound of an approaching train. He leaned out onto the tracks, facing toward the station, he watched a supply train pull up for deliveries. He hoped he'd have a chance jump into a poorly latched shut cart. He waited a roughly hour or two before the train began to move slowly toward him. Elijah ran down to a tree beside the track and picked up his backpack containing the leftover belongings he had from his apartment, most of which had been damaged due to the weather.

The last cart that was passing Elijah, he noticed a small opening in which he could slide into and he'd be fine to rest in there until the train had stopped in it's next location. Running after the cart took no effort yet heaving himself inside without getting caught on something was another task. Either way, it seemed to be fine. Elijah climbed in the back slowly and propped his bag against a wall. The cart was filled with old boxes and bails of hay, a majority of it all stacked to the one side of the cart and the other barely touched.

A low growling tone could be hard from behind one of the crates and as Elijah slowly peaked over the top, he noticed a scruffy dog laying in amongst the hay. In its mouth was a freshly slain rabbit and the dog continually ate at it, ripping apart its fur so it could gain access to the flesh. "Hey there."

As the train picked up speed, Elijah sat against his bag. He looked over at the dog and smiled, watching it eat the rabbit slowly. Once the dog had finished, it licked its lips and stood up, walking toward Elijah.

He lent forward and began patting the animal, it's appearance deteriorated from the rugged lifestyle it was living. "Good girl... Looks like you are a bit worn out, heh?" He rubbed his left hand along his thigh as he heaved himself into a kneeling position, "You got a name, doggie?"

-- April 3rd, 2015 --

The rain dropped heavily as Elijah walked through a small patch of rain forest toward the train track. His dog, that he'd name Fish, trotted along behind him with her tongue hanging from her mouth. The two walked up on a busted train. Elijah turned his head slightly, looking at Fish in his peripheral vision, "Keep a look out for me, I'll check inside for some supplies." Elijah slowly stepped into the train and began walking toward the food storage.


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Noah lifts his eye from the scope of his rifle and steps back, leaning favourably on his right leg while his left regained circulation. "The place seems pretty clear to me. Nothin' too suss going on," he said confidently as he turned toward Riley. The two had risen from their sleep in the hills earlier then usual, bags hung under their eyes and their cheeks rosy red. "Sounds good enough to me. I'll get the horse ready."

The two began riding down the hills toward the growing encampment of survivors. The fast clicking of the horse's hooves hollowed out the slight sound of the wind brushing from behind them. The road they followed toward the cluster of houses and information buildings wound left infront of them before slowly forming into an adrupt end, the road shaped as a circle. Several driveways branched off the end of the street and a small pathway cut the housing complex into two seperate areas. The Parkers continued riding up the pathway and came across multiple vehicles blocking their way into another sectioned off area of buildings. Their horses slowed to a walk before stopping still in front of the pile-up of vans and sedans. The sound of metal kinking could be heard as a man's head pops over the top of a van. His voice was loud and stern, "Any of you bit?" There was a slight pause as Noah and Riley looked at each other, "Not even a slight chance."

"Dave, grab their horses and take them out back," the man said as he hopped down from the top of a van and walked toward Noah and Riley. "Name's Derek, you could say I run the show around here, at least until this shit is sorted or authorities with experience show their arse." Noah nodded at him before jumping to the ground and standing in front of him, his armed extended into a hand shake, "Noah." Their hands shook firmly, "This is my daughter Riley." Noah's hand gestured backwards, pointing toward Riley who was also preparing to slip off her horses back. "Well, it's nice to have some new folk around," Derek said with relief, "Come in."

The three climbed over the vehicles as Dave lead the horses to a back entry. Their boots hit the concrete inside the make-shift walls of the camp with slight force and they began walking together. "I'll give you a tour and then we'll get you settled in. We didn't have much stuff to start with so we're running low on supplies, we'll get you some rations later on," Derek spoke professionally, as if he had handled newcomers to the area before.

"That's the storage home, it's where we keep all of our food, water and medical with the addition of some rope and extra shit," Derek pointed toward a two story home, the front porch lined with a railing made from old oaks, the wood had dried out and had cracks formed along the outer pillars that supported the roof. "Next up we've got all of our living quarters, couple houses here and there. Plans on building some walls when we gather some supplies. We don't want anything hostile getting in here."

"How long have you been preparing for this shit storm?" Noah asked as he looked at Derek, studying his facial features. "Long enough," he spoke quickly before muttering to himself quietly, "I suppose." The three continued walking throughout the camp, everything was introduced to them rather quickly.

A dozen or more survivors walked the streets and lights inside the houses flickered and danced in the windows, survivors also sat around them. "I think we can make a life here, darlin'."


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A great cycle of events going on... and it just keeps you wanting more. It's almost like the George AARRR ARRR Martin of DayZRP.

Very innovative. And while I absolutely LOVE all of the characters involved?

Elijah and Fish, FTW, hands down.


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"Fucking pricks," Duncan laughs as he quickly rips his hatchet from an infected's skull, the handle's grip torn and rugged. He turns around, facing toward a small book shelf, "Oliver, I got him. We're good." Duncan begins walking slowly toward the back of the small store, placing his pack on the bench next to the cash register. He unzips it, immediately packing it with comics and hard-cover novels. "Good fuel," he says.

"You know, Olly, it's been just us for quite a while now. Do you ever get bored?" he asks, raising a brow. A short silence follows. "Have I done something wrong? Do I upset you these days, Olly?" Duncan's face grows serious, a small bead of sweat drips from his hairline and onto his nose. Duncan slowly adjusts his collar before rushing toward the closest book shelf and tossing it in rage, his eyes begin to tear up. "You're killing us Oliver! You're killing us!"

As he rubs the tears from his eyes he looks over to the shelf in which Oliver was standing, he had vanished from his vision. Duncan began to break down, his head was in his hands as he lent against the check-out bench. "Oliver... I'm sorry... Pl-please come back..."

-- Elsewhere --

"Hey, Charles, what's the plan?" a silhouetted figure asks as he steps into a small ray of light peaking through the hole in the ceiling. "I was thinking we'd head into the city, the over-run areas normally don't get scavenged. We'll probably hit the jack-pot."

"Here Steven, shine your flash-light here for a sec," Charles muttered quietly, yet loud enough for someone to have heard him from 10 metres away. "Street map says we're right near the Manhattan Bridge. Follow me."

The two men walked out into the street, climbing the rubble of cars piled in the streets. "Well ain't that a sight to see, aye?" Charles asks as he looks back toward Steven, a grin was wide on his face. "At least we aren't lost."


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Good read. My favourite is the beginning when he takes the hatchet from the infected's skull.

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Great read I tell you ;)

Good job Sung

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Short, sweet and mysteriously brilliant.

I feel like I'm waiting for the next issue of a comic to be released. xD

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I would like to thank Light personally for the new headers he has made for the threads. It definitely adds some more spice to these entries and I'm grateful for you spending your time on them, thanks very much :D

As for the stories, I've got a few future entries planned and they'll be written, edited and posted when they're ready.

I look forward to providing you with some more content!

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The rain continued to fall heavily outside of the train, the drops were splattering against the aging windows creating a thunderous sound. Elijah felt horrible for leaving Fish outside in this weather so he allowed her to follow him inside. The corridors and seats piled with trash, some freshly placed and some appearing to have rotten into the fabric seats and carpet underneath Elijah's boots. More or less next to the doorway sat Fish, she had created a small bedding for herself while her counterpart searched the train for supplies. "Stay by the door for me, I want you to make some noise if there's something wrong," Elijah spoke loudly over his shoulder as he heaved open the doorway to the next carriage along.

The next carriage was basically the same as the last. Piled with junk and smelled of rotten tobacco, the seats in this section seemed a little more worn then the rest but still sufficient enough to be comfortable, if you eluded sitting on any hazards. Toward the end of the corridor there looked to be make-shift bedding and supplies lined next to it before spilling into the row of seats in front of it. Cans of food, water bottles, alcohol and used syringes were spread around the bedding. The cloth used to cover the person at night seemed freshly used, as if the person who slept there had just awoken and was doing their daily morning chores. Elijah knelt next to the bed, purposely laying a ripped off seat cover under his knees to avoid getting pricked and prodded by unwanted objects, mainly the syringes. Elijah began to fill his pack with necessary supplies to last him a few days, he figured this person had so much they wouldn't notice a few bits and pieces missing.

"Enjoying what you're seeing?" someone asked from behind Elijah, they stood in the doorway to the next carriage along. Elijah jumped slightly, he was startled, "I'm sorry, man. I.. I just thought I'd borrow some food... It's tough these days." Elijah's expression was a mixture between uncertain and terrified. The man in front of him stepped closer, every step he took, Elijah would replace the spacing by stepping backward. "Could have asked first, kid..." the man spoke, his voice was on edge yet he laughed slightly afterward. "I'm Fillip," he sniffs slightly before scratching several scars on his upper arm, "The girl you haven't noticed yet is Olivia, she's standing behind you. Don't panic." Elijah looked over his shoulder before calming down slightly, yet being still on edge. "Ok, well... I suppose I can keep the food?" he asks, reassuring himself. "Sure thing."

The three spoke for roughly half and hour, nothing really came up that stood out. It was mostly talk about how the train was a large junkyard and wasn't necessarily in the best of shape considering it was a modern machine and was made to be durable, even without the regular maintenance.

Fillip stood up and began to walk toward the exit on the train, "I'll be back, just gonna take a leak... heh." He disappeared from view within seconds. Elijah turned his view toward Olivia, her appearance seemed deteriorated from what it once was, heavy bags hung under her eyes while her cheeks and forehead were covered in small blistering sores that seemed to be caused by substance abuse. "How did you two meet?" Elijah asked soothingly, trying to calm himself down. "I found Fillip in a town nearby, I'm not sure on the name since I'd traveled around alone and I can't read the signs but we eventually found our way back here. He has been living in this train for a while now," she looked out the carriage window, the rain still coming down heavy. "I found out quickly that he had-," she coughed, "he had an issue with drugs, his stash is in a suitcase further up the corridor." Elijah nodded, he looked sympathetic toward her. "After a few days of finding out about him, he had finally offered me to try some of his stuff. I didn't refuse, thought it'd sway my thoughts from the depressing shit I've seen happen to my family and friends," she looked down at her hands, they were shaking slightly.

Fillip had finished doing his business and had slipped away into a row of seats to inject his liquid heroine. It was a slightly bigger dose then he was used to and he began to have a seizure, shaking quietly but violently in his seat, his head tilted backwards so his view was parallel to the ceiling.

"The ass hole got me hooked, I knew I shouldn't have trusted him when we first met..." her story continued. "I just needed a reason to get away from it all, to leave him here." Elijah was left speechless, he stayed quiet as he listened to her story. "It's... It's really difficult at the moment, sooner or later something is going to fucking happen..."

The lifeless gaze from Fillip stared to the ceiling, veins in his face and arms bulged from his skin as if they were ready to pop. His face was bright red before fading slowly to a pale white. Saliva escaped from his mouth and ran down his cheeks before dripping onto his shoulders. Fillip had died right then and there in his own filth.

"Let's leave together, I'll fix my shit up, I promise!" Olivia grabs Elijah's arm and heaves him to his feet, her back facing toward the way Fillip left through.

Fillip's jaw began grinding together as he reanimated, standing himself up and walking toward the noise in the corridor. Fillip's movements were slow and he stumbled over the objects spilling into the walkway. Elijah stared into Olivia's eyes as Fillip approached behind her, reaching out for a grasp at her clothing. Elijah's gaze shifted slowly toward Fillip but it was a moment too late, his jaw bit down onto her forearm before pulling her down to the ground. Olivia's screams were extremely loud, causing Fish to wake up and run toward the carriage Elijah stood in, watching the carnage in front of him.

Elijah, speechless, ran toward a doorway. He noticed Fish behind him as he ran out into the rain, he paused for a moment. "Fish, we gotta go."


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Holy shit. Do NOT be intimidated by his entry, even if it looks like a long one. It's really not, anyway.

But it's extremely edgy and definitely worth a read. Elijah and Fish, as always, stand as my favorite characters in this wonderful series.

Good shit, as always, Sungshine.

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"Name's Bert," spoke a strong Southern accent, "This is my missus Julia, and our young ones, Charlotte and Jake." Noah stood in-front of the middle aged cowboy and shook his hand, immediately introducing Riley and himself after Bert had finished speaking. "If you ain't noticed yet, we're from Dallas," Julia laughed as her initial wave toward Riley turned into a relaxed hand in her lap. "We're locals," Noah calmly announced, "Traveled up from Fresno." Bert and his family sat in porch chairs out the front of their home.

The family of Southerners nodded, their faces convinced. Bert, who sat there quietly for a few seconds stood up and clapped once, "I'll fix you both a seat," he said as he jogged lightly into the front door of the lone storied wood cabin. He reappeared moments later with two fold-out chairs, "Feel free."

Riley and Noah sat down. Riley had her legs crossed while Noah sat slumped back in his chair, he took in a deep breath. "Tell us about yourselves," Riley blurted out quickly. She was met with a quick gaze from Noah. Bert swallowed deeply before leaning forward, he stared at the ground. "We're all a buncha average joes," he sighed, "We've been here for a week or so, fled from Dallas as soon as the dead started walkin'," Bert looked over at Julia before reaching for her hand. He held it tightly in his left while covering both with his right. "I wasn't surprised wen it began spreadin'," he sighed again. "We left helpless people on the side of the roads," he glanced at Noah, "vowed I'd never do that to a person ever again," Bert had put emphasis on the word ever, as if making a statement loudly would improve his confidence on the decision.

The two families continued to converse for the next hour. Their stories filled with hints of personal details while trying to hit a comedic value. Jokes aside though, the vibe remained serious even throughout the conversations. Bert, he was a diesel mechanic at a workshop in down-town Dallas. He'd decided, as an individual decision, that he'd retire early so he could save his back a few more years while gaining the family time he had craved for many tears. Julia stayed home mostly while Bert had his job, yet was forced to take up a part time job doing relief for ill teachers at the local school once he had retired. They had essentially switched household commitments.

"We were coming down here from Dallas with Julia's father," Bert said reluctantly, Julia looked toward her lap, she twirled her thumbs around each other. "He got grabbed by one of the freak shows as we were escaping a fuel station roughly 60 miles south of here," Bert began to choke up, "He sadly didn't make it the rest of the journey."

There was a moment of silence while Bert and Julia gained their composure, their children playing off to the side.

"Sorry for blabberin'..." Bert said apologetically. "You guys must be needing to head off, right?" Noah nodded at Bert. He peered toward Riley, "Darlin' can you go check up on the horses while I say our goodbyes?" Riley nodded as she rose from her seat, "Thanks for having me," she spoke as she turned and walked toward the back yard of a larger home. The distant figures of her father shaking Bert's hand sat over her shoulder.

"Jeez," Riley spoke as she approached the horses, they happily ate the grass, "Your hair is all knotted up!" Her brush sat weakly in her hands as she began patting the darker colored horse. An unknown figure stood at the back porch of the home where the horses were locked up in, he laughed at Riley before speaking, "Her name is Cheval."


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Oooh, I loved it. You've been practicing your writing a lot with these entries, and it's so easy to see how much effort you've put into it.

I love the feeling of realism, if that makes sense. For example, just describing how Riley sits, or how Bert and Julia clasp hands. Little details like this make a scene come alive for the readers/audience.

I keep stating that Fish and Elijah are my favorite, but I still love these other characters. Riley and Noah are simply heart-felt, and it shows in the way they care for their animals... their steeds. :)

Keep it up, Sung. Seriously. I absolutely love reading these entries.

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To be continued....

(Duncan's storyline has been stumping me for a long time. I'm putting him away until I can think of a way to further his story and development. With that said, I'm hoping to get back into this and bring back the other two stories that are also running)

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Todays episode has been postponed. Sorry for the big FUCK YOU mid-season finale. Dammit, Sung... I just wanna know what happens! *Pushes fast forward on life....*

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Sung these are bloody fantastic and probably the most original lore and stories thread yet :D

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I spend a great deal of time reading through each of the stories that people post in this forum but it is very rare that I feel moved enough to log in and actually make a comment in regards to someone's work.

It takes an amazing amount of energy and creativity to write a short compacted snippet of a story in journal form that conveys enough of a mental moving picture and emotion that it brings people back looking for the next entry. You have that skill.

I also like that you are getting others involved by having them contribute to your work. Smart.

It's the quiet ones that always surprise me.

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Wow, what an absolutely perfect introduction to the Lore boards!

I figured I didn't really have much of a reason to post on the forums since I haven't been whitelisted yet, and therefore have nothing to talk about with other people, but since I found these stories I've realized that's entirely untrue. If I can find other posts with even HALF the impact of the ones on this thread, I'll be totally satisfied.

Keep up the good work!

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Oh wow, you guys are too kind. Thanks a tonne :D

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