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RicketyTrickster

Waking Up: The Story of Juri Valdovich

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[mp3]http://puu.sh/l5oHF/73d20b16cd.mp3[/mp3]

Footsteps. His breathing. The sea. Those were the only things that rang through his head for days on end. The only signs that time hadn't frozen and the world hadn't stopped in it's tracks. It was almost reassuring, as if he was being told - everything is moving forward, why shouldn't you? And move he did, though to where, he didn't know, neither he cared. Shortly after Juri left the city, his mind tumbled down into a sleep-like state. He couldn't accept reality as it was, therefore he rejected it - a dream, that's what it must be. Since that was what it felt like. 

On that faithful morning, he was as hungover as always. His room had turned into a shithole - not too far from becoming a literal one. He shoved the empty bottle aside and pushed himself up from the chair. The drool that he'd left upon the table really went well with the rest of the room. Half empty cans and bottles of various origin littered the floor, what little decorations the room had beforehand were simply scattered about and broken - a lamp, a trashcan, the TV and radio, everything. It was a miracle the window was still intact. He shuffled on towards the neighboring room to open up the fridge and dig through for any more alcohol, though to his bafflement, he didn't find any. His eyes darted about desperately and what followed suite were a few minutes of fervor-filled searching and digging through cabinets & drawers

All the while, sirens rung out through the streets, distant echoes of shots and screams joined in on the cacophony of the apocalypse. Those somewhat-sober moments were the first time that Juri truly heard it. Of course, he'd heard of some riots going on. They kept mentioning it on the TV - breaking news! He couldn't care less, good thing the old piece of crap broke, it was a nuisance.

He muttered out something incoherent and rubbed at his eyes. What was he supposed to do now? Head down to the store again. It was annoying enough a month ago. The drunk looked around and locked his gaze onto his parents' bedroom. Yes, Juri still lived with his parents, he moved into their apartment after getting back from his studies in the US. He said he'd stay there until he "Got back onto his feet and found a job". It's been two years since then. He called out to his parents, yet no one answered. It was then that he caught a glimpse of a piece of paper clipped onto his apartment's door and stumbled over. Juri took a few seconds to process the words that were written upon it, considering they were written in his home language. Bah how he hated it! English was so much easier. 

"Son... We tried getting you to come with us, but you wouldn't listen. It's gotten bad, really bad, so your father and I have decided to move to the countryside, where your grandparents used to live. Please, come whenever you can, it's not safe here in the city." He read aloud. Was it really that bad? He walked over to the window and took a quick glance, only to be taken aback moments later. Corpses and burning cars littered the streets. Buildings were ablaze or in ruins, and not a single soul traversed the streets. He was late to greet the start of the end of the world - drank his way through it. He pulled upon his hair and dashed over to the door, only tossing on a jacket before unlocking the door and heading out. It appears that only by pure luck and the fact his parents had locked the sturdy door, did Juri survive for so long. And now he had the whole apocalypse to live through as well, with no plan, and no one by his side to help him out.

Eventually, he did make it out of the city. Meeting infected on the way and having to run from them. He did reach his grandparents' house, though only to find a pair of old folks, with their brains upon the walls and a gun between one's arms. A fearful choice, but who could blame them. And who could blame Juri, for refusing to accept it.

Footsteps. His breathing. The sea. Nothing less, nothing more. It truly felt like he was all alone, at piece, but the harsh nature of the human body would soon spring his mind back into a working state and mold him into the survivor he is today.

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[spoiler=OOC] Will probably write up part two in the next couple of weeks, depending when inspiration strikes me. Some actual survival stuff like zombie killing and such should make an appearance :P 

  

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