FC: Johnny Depp
Writer. Nothing more, nothing less. I've written all my life. Mostly before the dead started walking, of course. I had a quiet life. Well, as quiet as it can get living in a townhouse in Atlanta. I had no more than one friend, no family left. Well, they were there. But, I didn't care much for them. So, why's it matter? I published a few books. No big deal, though. Especially not anymore. I envied Stephen King. He was the greatest writer, in my perspective. I wanted my material to be as mysterious, as wonderful, as his. Science fiction, Sci-fi, and Fantasy. Those were the three genres in which I explored the most. I never cared for nonfiction. That shit bores me to tears. Anyways, that's not the topic. My life, was nothing. If it was, it definitely isn't now. Well, let's get to the topic. The theme, if you will.
It was a late night. I had been up, trying to finish this new novel I've been working on. Being near the end, I had many troubles. The ending never came easy. I still am working on it, actually. Despite what's going on. My pencil had broken, for some completely off topic reason. One that I prefer not to get into, at the moment. My only sharpener was downstair. Being the idiot I am, I never thought to bring it up. Maybe I should've. That would have been smart. Well, I went downstairs to sharpen my rather dull pencil. I never used my laptop. Material can be stolen so easily that way. All of my writing was in pencil. I am glad, to this day, that it was that way. Anyways, back to the story. While sharpening my pencil, I peeked out my kitchen window. It led almost directly into the front yard of my neighbor's home. Mrs. Johnson.
The poor woman lived alone, slowly decaying away as time was of no essence. She was probably 87. I had no idea how old she was. But, that didn't matter. I looked in on her from time to time. Mrs. Johnson was a very kind elderly lady. She cared about me, I cared about her. Mrs. Johnson would be that only friend.
Well, this elderly woman was on her front porch. It was odd. Such an ungodly hour to be aroused from your home. Especially for an older person living alone. She stood, half still. Yet she was swaying back and forth as the wind blew. I decided to check up on her.
Grabbing my jacket, I set the dull pencil on the counter. Pushing my long brown hair behind my ears, I straightened the glasses on my face. I braced myself before leaving the house. It took courage to go out there, something I didn't have much of. But, I fought the tiny bit of fear.
I called out to her, treading in a slow pace across the small lawn on the property where I lived. She didn't respond. Considering her late age, Mrs. Johnson probably didn't have very well hearing. Further approaching her, I knew something was wrong. Terrible wrong.
Something had gotten to her, bitten her... I could see her nightgown torn, almost to shreds. Her left forearm held the bite. I gazed in disbelief at the horror. A large chunk of flesh was missing, revealing a yellow bone. A thick waterfall of crimson seeped into the white gown, staining it completely. The rest of it had gone off onto the ground of the porch, almost drowning her feet. At this point, the fear had gotten to me. I yelled to her, pleading if she was alright. .... She wasn't.
At the sound of my voice, she turned towards me, trying to make logic of the location of my voice. Her face was grayed, eyes droopily staring into nothing. Her mouth lolled open, a thin trail of saliva dripping onto her stained gown. She didn't seem to be in any pain, whatsoever. But, I wasn't convinced. How could I have been? She seemed alright, but, she clearly wasn't. I couldn't really see much, due to the late hour.
Her eyes found me. The cluttered spheres in her skull, more so. As soon as she found me, I could hear a series of low growls leaving her opened mouth. She lurched, stumbling down the few steps leading to her porch. Within seconds, she reached the ground. One of her slippers fell off, but she clearly didn't mind much.
I backed away, watching in horror as the elderly woman moved toward me, arms reaching, trying to grab me, despite her injury. Her head sickly tilted to the side, as though it weren't attached at all. I didn't know what to do. What if she got to me? What would she do?
I ran. Back to my house. Away from Mrs. Johnson. What else could I have done? Nothing. That's what. In a panic, I stumbled, roughly falling to the ruggedly vegetated ground. Of course, broadcasting my luck, there was more. More of... whatever they are. I didn't know, nor did I have time to figure it all out. I doubt they'd pause for a second so I could connect the dots. They came from across the street, all shuffling in some sort of synchronized manor. Their arms reached out to me, their jaws snapping yellowed, bloody teeth.
A sharp hot pain sent shocks through my knee, hitting a hard rock, buried in the brush where I went down. I grunted loudly at the pain, gritting my teeth together so hard, that I thought my skull was going to shatter into millions of pieces, reflecting an iridescent of colors against the little amount of light provided by the moon.
Ignoring the pain, I struggled to my feet, jumping back as Mrs. Johnson snapped her teeth awfully close to my shoulder. Dodged a bullet. I begged for my life pathetically, trying to get away from her as my limp slowed my pace. The growing horde in the streets drew nearer, threatening to take foot on my lawn. Ready to feast on my flesh, it seemed.
Grasping my leg, I stumbled in a hurry to my front door. Swinging the heavy slab of wood open as fast as I could. The door slapped Mrs. Johnson square in the face, the force sending her back to the ground. Without a single apology, I lunged into the safety of my home, pushing the door shut with a loud slam. I locked it in a hurry, placing my back against the frame, feeling the... things just outside pound on it, trying to get inside. I felt like they would've gotten in, if I hadn't held it shut with my spine. I slid down the smooth wood, landing my ass on the cold stone floor.
I was safe. For now.
I barely made it out of that house. Packing food, my work, papers, pencils, all that shit. Hell, I even got that sharpener. All into two thin brief cases. In a separate backpack, I put my few published novels, even a few of King's. I'd need something to keep me busy. I also took my childhood baseball bat. Maybe that'd help fend off the creatures slamming into my front door. Just before they got in, I slipped out the back door. I made it out.
The journey was long, hard. At time, I barely could keep going on. But now, I'm here in Macon. I used to come here often, in better days. I knew the route like the difference between you're and your. So I made it within a day on foot. I didn't think of a vehicle. I didn't have one, and I wasn't going to steal one. After this is resolved, no way in hell I'm going to jail.
I encountered maybe three people on my journey. But, a single whack to the skull with my bat took them out easily. I didn't even know what was going on. I still don't. I didn't see any broadcast. No recording on the radio. All I know is, that these people are torn up. I think they're trying to eat me, I really have no idea.
All I do know, is that I'll just have to sit it out. I'm staying in a television store in Macon, Georgia. But, these televisions don't work. It's quiet here, but I haven't seen much. Little do I know, I was just being sheltered from the true destruction just outside.
Is anybody, not trying to eat me, out there?
For a long while, I became obsessed with Johnny Depp. So, I decided to make a character out of him. I started poking around, writing, and came up with Louie Koff.