Daily Freewriting

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The soldiers dragged a thrashing man into a small room made of stone and iron bars, their emotionless faces showing no regret. Water splashed the walls as the man was tossed upon the floor, but they ignored the splatters upon their legs and simply made their way from the area, as cold as the prison’s walls.

“No, I didn’t do it!” the man begged, rather in hysterics now. He was writhing pitifully on the floor without break, except once in a while to stop and pant before continuing. “It wasn’t me, please! Believe me!” The fear was burning him, but most of all, even more so, the pain. A shriek escaped his mouth, sufferous, even just to those listening. One of the soldiers flinched.

“What happened to him, anyway?” he queried, the faint flickering of a freshly lit fire showing lines of concern in his brow.

One of the man’s comrades sighed, pulling the door to the enclosure shut, locking the crazed man inside. “We don’t know,” he said, his voice purely factual - but he, too, was now displaying a hint of regret. “A couple of the villagers just found him like this. But have you seen that wound on his leg? Looks nasty, I tell you.” Flinching with empathy, he sat down beside the others and held his hands to the toasty flame.

“It looks like a bite mark,” another commented, then took a sip from a canteen.

“Yeah. What if there’s something roaming around out here? A vicious wolf! A rabid one!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Those wounds couldn’t have come from a wolf.”

“All right, then, a gorilla!”

“Cut the crap! There’s no gorillas in North America.”

Their prisoner let out another chilling wail, sending the others into silence for a few seconds. Though none admitted it, they could feel the hair rising on their arms now.

“It does look almost like a gorilla, though, if you think about it,” commented the second soldier that had spoken. He poked the flames with a stick, watching sparks swirl into the air before flickering into nothingness. “I mean, Tim’s right, it couldn’t be. But still . . .”

“What if it’s human?” the first soldier commented, eyes widening.

That sent most of the others into chuckles. “Get real, Peter. What kinda person would bite somebody like that? A cannibal?”

“And don’t cannibals usually kill their victims before eating them?”

“Yeah, no way it was a cannibal either.”

Feeling quite silly now, the one who had proposed the idea fell silent, staring off into the trees surrounding them. A faint rustle went through the leaves, and though he could barely hear it, it almost sounded like there was some other noise accompanying the wind . . . a moan, ten times more chilling than those coming from the wounded prisoner. He opened his mouth, about to point the sound out, but then firmly clamped his mouth shut. No need to get laughed at again.

After an hour, one soldier had died.

The five remaining were on the opposite side of the fire as their fallen comrade, faces taut and guns all aimed at the monster crouched hungrily over the man’s dead body.

“Holy - Peter was right,” Tim breathed, fingers shaking intensely as they watched the thing that was feasting on cold flesh.

“But it’s not human, it can’t be! It must be a demon of some sort! No human could survive a point blank shot like that . . .”

“It’s a zombie!”

That statement sent the soldiers into hysterics. Most of them instantly dropped their guns and ran, screaming in terror. In fact, after this, there was only one soldier still brave enough to face the monster. Peter.

His hands trembled, and then he fired the gun at the zombie. It accomplished nothing, though. However accurate the shot was, it appeared to be incapable of harming this monster. Rather than collapsing like it should’ve, the creature lifted its blood-smeared head and unleashed a moan, rising back to its feet and staggering towards Peter.

A ragged breath ripped from Peter’s mouth, and before he could give himself a chance to think twice, he leapt towards the fire. Dropping the gun, he instead grabbed two makeshift torches from it, waving them a mere three feet from the zombie. It didn’t react to them - only staggered another step forward and gnashed its teeth, continuining to moan. Finally Peter just mustered all remaining shreds of courage within himself and went towards the monster, just enough to stab at its head with the torch.

The next twenty minutes were torture. Peter alternated between holding the flames against the monster’s head and dodging its outstretched hands, but when it at last dropped to the ground, the head turned to ash and everything below lit aflame, he knew he was safe - from this monster. There could be more, ready to come at any moment . . .

And there would be another if he didn’t do something to stop it.

Peter caught his breath for a few moments, then returned the torches to the fire, ignoring the burning corpse, and scooped up his gun. His staggering feet brought him over to the prison, where the man inside was still groaning . . . though his struggles were much reduced now.

There was no longer any doubt in Peter’s mind; the prisoner had been bit by a zombie. So he had to kill him. He couldn’t let him become undead. So he raised the muzzle of the gun to the man, aiming it through the bars until it was pressed against his forehead.

Delirious with pain, the man managed a few slurred words. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to . . .” Fear just barely made its way onto his face.

Peter swallowed, beginning to shiver again. He never wanted to kill anyone . . . “I’m sorry too,” he whispered hoarsely . . . then he pulled the trigger.

shadowsowner888 wrote:This is the strangest feeling. *-* I never thought I'd want to bite your head off over a fictional character, you know. xD

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shadowsowner888 wrote:Seeing his name made my breathing stagger. *-*

Sorry. XD But yeah . . . seriously, that's true. This is the first time we've been after the same dude.

shadowsowner888 wrote:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD:

Noooo, not L! *bites keyboard dramatically* Why why why?! ._.

(Oh, and thankuu darling for posting this. c: )

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