Not Real

It was a summer sunset, just as the sun was touching the ground. The world was warm and green and fresh and clean- but it was far from peaceful. Blood-curdling screams rang out from every street, from every house. No one was safe. No one could win.

It was only in vain that the screams of mortal terror were uttered, however. They were only an instinctual reaction, as there was no one left to hear them. As each and every person closed their eyes, the threat only got stronger, as if they were absorbing the energy from the deceased. As if the dead were becoming one with their ranks.

At first, they were merely a nuisance, an annoyance. A contained problem. But, oh, how fast they grew and multiplied, evolved and got bigger and stronger. No one knew what hit them. Not until they were eternally asleep.

During the early stages of the problem, people were varied in preparation. Some people had trained for months in case of an outbreak. Some had never believed it would happen. How they thought it would be like in the games, where they went slowly and screamed their loud shrieks, stumbling down the streets. But how they were all wrong.

Each of the zombies were different - they may have been a wife when they were alive, but now they are a mindless mass bent only on destruction. They didn’t recall, they didn’t think. But it was more than just instinct that was pushing them along - something stranger, more powerful.

A virus.

As more and more people closed their eyes to eternal rest, more and more people got sick of this virus. They wanted it back to the way it was before. But they were unable to fix the virus. And soon enough, the game was shut down.

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