AH, Here Is A Vent Comic That I Made A While Back When I Was Feeling Abandoned, Or Not Listened To, And

AH, here is a vent comic that i made a while back when i was feeling abandoned, or not listened to, and TUO was taking that and trying to persuade me that he was the only one that was in my corner. 

(He often does that). 

The gist of the last two pics is that he has a hypnotic ability, when kissing, kind of like a siren, or a succubus/incubus. (Not that he has weirdness with... the act of reproduction). 

And, like hypnotizing me, being the owner of my minds eye, makes him the one in charge temporarily, which is why the change of outfit happened. 

I just felt like sharing it, showing to people who have thoughts about perhaps their friends abandoning them, or the like, that they’re not alone. 

Its even very tough for me, hence why the bad end in the comic. Showing me at my lowest of lows. 

I want to tell that community to keep fighting, that the friends don’t hate them. That they are not alone in the world. 

Hi

I was wondering, if any of my OCs were animals, excluding Brian, TUO, and Alistair, as their animal forms are already... canon, what animals would they be?

Mythological animals included!

Tell me in the comments what you think!

Eye of Chaos Book 1: The Chaos Who Smiles, chapter 1

Chapter 1

When it had barely just begun, everyone was pushing and shoving just to get themselves into every large store I could think of. Wal-Mart, Super 1, Yolks, and Costco. I only supposed Costco was also busy, and then it was confirmed over the news, as I didn’t live in walking distance.

People were fighting over things like tinned food, cooked food, and things that could save their lives. I could only guess that it was that bad idea that lured the zombies there with all the screaming and yelling.

I probably had been the only one that hadn’t been making any loud noises, not that it helped me very much. One mostly silent voice wouldn’t make a difference when everyone else was like an airhorn on steroids and when people are throwing fists at each other and trampling others causing injuries even prior to the incoming zombie invasion.

After that, zombie attacks became more common and people either stayed in their houses and boarded themselves in, or left to scavenge and find a safer place. My family didn’t quite know what a safer place was, so we decided to stay and board ourselves inside.

The brave, lonely, or stupid ones, whichever way you looked at it, had decided to try to go out and brave out the zombies with their own homemade weapons and try to collect supplies. They would be gone for days on end. Who knows where they ended up sleeping, or if they came back as a zombie for other people to worry about?

I had been, and was still, one of the lonely ones, but I was smart enough to return home when things were looking like they were going to get any level of dicey.

Some people, who were mostly conspirators, were much more prepared already, due to their constant worrying. Most people thought they were merely crazy, but now when you looked at it, they were right in thinking so. The only thing people complain about them now, are the fact that the conspirators yelled in their faces about how much that they were right, and the others were wrong.

What had the Government been doing about this terrifying pandemic? Not much, in all honesty. With Trump being in command as the president, there wasn’t much he was willing to do. In the beginning he blamed it on the immigrants making some kind of poison to drive us out of our country, which was, a lie, obviously, but no one actually knows where or how the zombie infection started.

By now, there was no news of Trump even having survived the zombie attacks in DC. Some reports even say that’s where the first zombie attack had been, although that was never proven to be true. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. There were also rumors that someone had begun to make drastic changes to the building after everyone supposedly had evacuated the area, changes that Trump and his followers would never make… was someone else living there?

The zombies themselves? Well, the first 10 or so reports detailed more commonly known zombies. The slow, rotting corpses that one would usually see in the old zombie classics, Night of the Living Dead, and the Walking Dead.

Then came the new ones. They were rarer, less common, but some seemed to be larger, larger than humans, and some could somehow be able to somewhat speak! Or, well, the speaking one was more of a rumor than an absolutely true and proven news story. What would a zombie even say, other than “Brains!”?

It had been three whole months since then, and I was on my own. My parents had been enlisted on some kind of war party, and I haven’t seen them since the beginning of this whole war collective group. Not that I haven’t seen anyone from the group, just not them. Every time I asked, they’d give me some kind of excuse that they were on some kind of other mission or something, or that they didn’t want to go on this mission.

I could somewhat believe when they told me the first one, but the second one not so much. Why wouldn’t they want to return to see if their daughter was still alive? Maybe some of the leaders told them that I had died or turned, but I didn’t think they would be THAT cruel.

Although I knew that it was a high chance of the sad reason was the cause for them not returning, I always kept that in the back of my mind. It was mostly to keep myself sane, but it was also because I couldn’t let that get in the way of my focus on surviving.

I had been hiding away in my bedroom and stashing most of my ranged weapons on my loft bed. I had mostly blocked my window, which had been smashed during a rogue survivor raid. It had been my first kill in self-defense and the first time I had a reason to smack my own head into a wall and cry to release the stress and uncomfortableness for killing anything other than a zombie. Not that I had killed a real zombie before either.

I had hauled up multiple food and drink coolers to my bedroom as well, as even with the help of my parents, we weren’t able to drag the entire refrigerator up the stairs. My dad threw out his back just trying to get it far enough away from the wall to be able to unplug it, and that was definitely a problem, even before the zombie attacks began.

We had set up an iron door at the top of the stairs to keep others from getting up to me, as well as in front of the house, replacing the original wooden door. They had originally done this to keep me from getting out without them, but that was before the war group had come to recruit them, and now I didn’t have a choice but to get out and scavenge for things at times.

We still had electricity due to several electricity generators that we had bought prior to the major outbreaks that had alerted to everyone that this was a serious incident before the terrible rush began.

When the very first incident occurred, it was only supposedly between two people, and so small that a lot of people didn’t believe it even occurred. Some who DID believe it happened only believed it to be such a rare occurrence, that it didn’t need to be worried about spreading to other people. What a misconception that had been…

It was kind of like the beginning of the corona virus, either people believed it was a real thing and took measures to prevent it from spreading, or they didn’t, protesting any kind of mask wearage and whatnot.

My family didn’t exactly NOT believe in the event, but they were smart and quiet about their approach to prepare for it, while keeping in mind that it could have been a fake story.

“It had been all too exact and logical to be entirely wrong or made up,” they explained, when a pure doubter asked them why they were doing this.

We went out and bought several electricity generators, good enough to run for a good amount of time, but not too expensive to completely bankrupt us if the entire thing turned out to be a lie. We were lucky to get them before the rush began. Most of them were bought out in only around 10 minutes. The others were either stolen from grocery stores, other houses by people who couldn’t afford them, and those who could, were fought over by raging civilians like it was Black Friday on hyper steroids.

I was sorta intrigued by the whole zombie thing in the beginning, not by the fact that people died because of it, but because I have had played a couple zombie survival open world games that were fun, like 7 Days to Die and Desolate, and I thought it would be definitely a change of pace.

A change of pace indeed it was.

The true beginning of the big change in my life in my own house and the… campsite, took place when I was on my computer, doing my daily things, making sure that my journal was caught up to date, the security cameras were fine, and making sure my fave artists who were still somehow holding up were still alive.

Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, PewDiePie and Pinkypills seemed to be doing relatively well, as they often posted small clips on their Twitter (or Tumblr as I don’t know which social media they have). They didn’t post full videos anymore, which was normal and to be expected, as who would post hour long video game playthrough videos during these times?

I was continuing some of my other stories if I had felt that I was safe enough some days, but those were times that I wasn’t questioning anything.

I wasn’t entirely worried about zombies attacking all of a sudden, as the banging of their hands on the metal or the smashing of the glass would alert me instantly. Their groans were pretty loud as well. The only thing I was worried about at that time were the noises that my computer made. It wasn’t known to be the quietest computer out there, and it could have been due to the fact that it had a couple viruses. I mean, it transferred data from my main hard drive to my second one without my permission, and never logged down the backups. However, the computer viruses weren’t the viruses that I was worried about.

I felt my cellphone buzz inside of my shirt pocket. I pulled it out and looked at it to see if someone had texted me, like my mom or my dad. I had hoped that it was either of them, or both, since they hadn’t texted me in several years, or given me any kind of signal that they were still alive out there. However, it was my alarm for morning, it was time to go out and scavenge.

“Well, whoop dee do.” I whispered/grumbled. I wasn’t exactly disappointed about doing this, but as this was my first time going out to do this in real life, and not inside of a video game, I was rather nervous about it.

I hadn’t needed to do so for a while as my family also did some food purchasing before the whole wild ride of riots and crowds, but as of now, I was running low on things that were safe to eat. Safe in the sense that I could make them without the risk of getting burned or causing an accident that would be really loud or would cause attention to the base.

I didn’t have much experience with using the oven or the stove with the confidence that my parents had. I could boil water, but even that had a higher worry in the back of my head than it should have been. I’ve made cheese quesadillas before, but that was only with mom’s supervision.                                                                   

I was more acquainted with the microwave or eating out of the box. Milk added to the cereal of course.

I got up from my chair and locked my computer. I knew that no one knew of my password, my dad even asked me what it was so he could download a new browser or something, I don’t remember. But due to this, I didn’t need to have worries of people breaking into the house and snooping through my files.

I didn’t have anything super-secret on it or anything, so I didn’t really have anything to hide. I would be uber disappointed on losing my Minecraft worlds that I worked on for years and more. But I would rather lose that than my life. Besides, I had all of the worlds, and my stories on a backup jump drive that I kept around my neck.

I grabbed my weapon, which was my dad’s handgun that he had given me from the safe box in his office closet, and a backpack before slipping out of the house, making sure that the doors didn’t squeak and cause any attention of hidden zombies or something/someone else to my position.

I peeked out from behind the door, gawking at the sight before me.

The air was hot, and the street was dusty. I hadn’t really looked out of my windows in a while, so I hadn’t seen this odd weather coming, but the street was covered in what appeared to be either sand or just an extremely thick layer of sand colored dust. It reminded me of a desert town somewhat.

This was extremely odd because we lived in Post Falls, Idaho, which wasn’t nearby anything with a ton of sand, or this kind of dust. Perhaps a hurricane, tornado, or some other storm like those could have brought the sand here, but you would think that there would be more damages if something like that had run through the town. And I would have noticed that.

“Now this is weird.” I whispered, “Last time I looked out the window, everything was normal, apart from the zombies and lack of people.”

The grass that did grow was super long from no one cutting it for weeks, and weeds spread out from every crack in the sidewalk. Splatters of now dried blood littered some of the trees in the front yard from some of the zombie fights that took place here.

Old and abandoned cars sat broken on the side of the road, bullet hole ridden from people protecting themselves from rogue survivors, who used guns to steal and rob from others. I didn’t believe that those cars had anything inside of them salvageable, as I was sure that someone had already gotten to them.

Mom’s car was still in the garage, I could see it through the tiny crack in the garage door, so I didn’t worry about people getting into it. Dad’s truck was gone, as he took it with him to go to the main war party campsite. I didn’t know where that was exactly, not that I had thought of it as the most important detail at the time, as I thought that my parents would have returned at some point of time to check up on me.

I had to ignore the odd change of scenery, I couldn’t let it hold me back from scavenging for food and water that I needed to live.

I scanned the street carefully, just to make sure that I didn’t see any zombies or rogue survivors. But luckily, I didn’t see anyone. A dry tumbleweed rolled by in the wind and smacked against the side of a broken fence.

The wind was cold, making the hot air a bit more comfortable than it had been, and I wondered which house I wanted to start with, searching for supplies. The house to the left, or the house to the right?

I eventually decided to start from the right and then go around the street. It didn’t have to be in a single day, which was impossible for just one female that wasn’t the strongest individual in the world. All I had was one school backpack and some minor pockets in my clothing to carry things.

I didn’t have to worry about busting into other people’s houses and getting caught, everyone else had either turned or had abandoned their homes to find some other location to survive in. So, I had a whole neighborhood at my feet to explore. A lot of people had left their doors unlocked, or open, as well, so getting in wasn’t going to be that difficult.

I made my way to the front door of my neighbor’s house and listened before taking a step inside. I didn’t want to walk in on a room full of zombies, like I often did in my video games on separate several occasions. As I didn’t hear anything, I carefully made my way into the building.

I found myself in the family room first. The walls were painted white, and in the normal days, I would have guessed that it had been brighter and more vivid. But now they had stains on them, stains that I could only suppose was blood. Or beer from a drunken night in, from years prior to the zombie apocalypse, but due to the color, it was most likely blood. Was it the blood of the previous owners of the house? Or did an unrelated fight occur here?

The floor was carpeted, but the carpet was old and torn, and you could see the underlying wood panels underneath it. The carpet looked like it wasn’t very thick and comfortable even before it was torn and rotten. Despite this, I decided that I could come back later, and strip it off of the floorboards and repurpose it for heating or something during the next winter, if a different survivor didn’t get to it first before then.

On the left side of the house was the beginning of the stairs up to the second floor. The stairs were a reddish wooden floorboards. The shine of the polish that had used to have been painted upon the boards had been scraped off by what could have either simply been time, or the sharpness of zombie toenails, or even the spiked soled boots that rogue survivors often wore when they were seen on the news.

On the right side of the room, against the wall, there was a thin table with a black flat screen TV. One of the lesser expensive brands, but far better than one of the ancient chunky box ones that people used to have. On either side of the television stood two lamps with fancy stands.

There were some books and old DVDs and VHS tapes underneath the Television, which intrigued me a lot, as I always loved to see new movies, and the fact that they had the Tapes, I only supposed that they had a player. I was super excited about that as my family got rid of ours two years before the zombie apocalypse had started, and I was missing watching my favorite movie, Clue, without those pesky ads every five to ten minutes.

A big, but very old and worn-out couch stretched in front of the television. There were tears and questionable stains everywhere on it, and even an old, slightly shattered, dusty beer bottle in the cup holder. I would have gotten a dry mouth when I saw or smelled it, but gathering supplies distracted me.

There was a closet door on the left side of the room, underneath the stairs. It was closed, but I could see that the top hinge was very loose, almost as if the person who was trying to open it forgot that they had to turn the handle in their panic, and pulled it off the wall. Clearly, they didn’t succeed in doing so before being eaten, turned, or escaped.

I could see the beginnings of the kitchen in front of me, as I could see the left side of the fridge peeking out from behind the separating wall. I pinched my nose when I detected something rotting in there, and I figured that it was food that was left out, but I figured that I would get to that later.

I got to work searching for things that I could use.

The TV screen had been smashed, which wasn’t surprising, although I could only think of two reasons on why it was so. Not that it mattered. I could use the wires from the insides of it though, so I carefully pried the wires out and stuck them into my bag.

I opened up every cupboard underneath the television and managed to find the VHS player. It was old and dusty, as it probably hadn’t been used in a while, even before the virus outbreak. I stashed the movies before looking at their titles, as they weren’t all that important at the moment.

I unscrewed the light bulbs from the lamps, as I needed some replacements for the upstairs’ bathrooms and the family room. I knew I couldn’t carry the lamps themselves as they were way too big, and they wouldn’t do well for weapons as they would crack easily.

I also found some batteries in the small couch side table. My flashlight was running low on the ones that were inside of it, and we were out of batteries in the closet that was in dad’s office.

I stripped down the couch as best as I could possibly do, with a small pocket knife I found in a corner, and folded up the cloth as neatly and as quickly as I could and put it in my bag as well. There wasn’t much room left in my bag, so either I had to be careful of what I put in, or search for another easily portable container.

I opened the closet and found some thick jackets, some thin cover-ups, and some snow boots. Nothing I could carry on me throughout the entire house at the moment, so I planned to get them on the way out.

So, I went into the kitchen next.

I was correct in my deduction that the kitchen was the source of the awful smell. It smelled like something was rotting, probably something in the fridge that wasn’t in operation for a few months at best.

I snuck into the room deeper, and I stopped when I saw a zombie, lying on the horrendously dirty, tile floor. I didn’t know if it was, you know, actually dead or not, so, that’s why I decided to back out into the living room and up the stairs to the second floor.

The floorboards creaked underneath my weight, and I stopped at each one, waiting to hear any kind of movement from the kitchen. Every time, I didn’t hear anything, but I stopped every time I made a noise, just to make sure.

I found that the upper floor housed the bedrooms. Naturally, I didn’t really find anything out of the ordinary, except total chaos in every room. Clothes were strewn across the room, on the floor, on the bed, and the drawers still lay open. Most of the sliding closet doors had been torn off its tracks, the other one, lay broken, shattered into halves. I didn’t see where the other halves were.

I wasn’t exactly not expecting this, as people needed to hurry to escape the horrible monsters, but sheesh! What a time to be told to run! Did they have to escape naked? Part of me wanted to smile a bit in amusement as I pictured the scene, but it wasn’t really funny. In a game sure, but when it was actually happening and the danger was real, not so much.

It loosely reminded me of the time that my dad explained to me that right before he had realized that a game was being played by people, live, and people could see him, he had his avatar dance naked upon a couch in the middle of a hub.

But that was a video game, THIS, was real life.

I didn’t have to search for a long time to find anything useful, old clothing, as mentioned, I skipped the underwear obviously. There were unused shampoos, conditioners, and body wash in the master bathroom, they must have been bought recently before they had left. I found some more deodorant and even a second backpack! This kind was the ones that true hikers or campers used, much better than the one I had.

I couldn’t help but smile widely, thinking about the fact that the possibility of my exploration being lengthened, due to the lack of danger of getting full on things to bring home and no space in my bags.

I swapped my small backpack from my back onto my front. I liked doing this even when I wasn’t trying to survive, I liked the weight on the front of my body, made me calmer and more relaxed.

In the back of my mind, I was a bit skeptical of how my safety was surprisingly high at the moment. I mean, the zombies weren’t as plentiful as the zombie movies had suggested, there weren’t hordes of zombies every single step that one takes. But there were enough to probably encounter one or two a day if one was outside every day, unlike I had been.

There was even a zombie downstairs lying on the kitchen floor in the same house that I was in!

I forcefully pushed into the next room from the hallway, as the door had been blocked from the inside by a bookshelf that had fallen over in the chaos and the struggle to get out of the house.

“OMG! If I knew that this room was here, I would have come a lot earlier!” I squeed as quietly as I could for a squee. It was like a video gamer’s paradise! Well, for something that could fit inside of a house of this size anyway.

Inside the room was what I could consider as a true gamer’s room. I could have either supposed that it belonged either to the son, or that the man of the family was a gamer. Maybe even a Youtuber. It could have been a girl, but judging by all the blue colors in the room and the hot girl poster with lip marks on it and unknown stains on it, tipped me off.

The computer was there, although dusty, appeared to have better parts and more updated bits than my own. It sat there, open on the side that faced the door. I could see the insides of it. The light was dull, but on somewhat, meaning that it still worked, if one pushed the power button.

It sat underneath the desk that had the monitor on it, in the middle of a ton of clutter of crumpled up paper, pencils, erasers, and markers, suggesting that the person who used to sleep in this room was a bit of an artist.

I kind of got a bit giddy before realizing that I didn’t need any of the computer drivers and hard drives to survive, but I did think of taking it apart, nonetheless.

I decided that before I did something that could take a super long amount of time, that I would scavenge for other smaller objects, like books, CDs, and old candy bars. I went for the bookshelf instead of the bed, as I could only imagine what stains could be there, if the posters were… you know.

I pushed a small box full of stuff that I wouldn’t like to mention aside with a stick to get to the books on the bookshelf. I didn’t need all of them to read, but rather for tinder, in case the generators go out and I need to build a real fire in the gas lit fireplace.

My gut wrenched when I thought about tearing pages from a book, as every time when I saw someone doing that in a movie, I felt absolutely awful, but I told myself that if I could kill a man in self-defense, I could tear up a book. Books weren’t alive, like a person was.

I found some old candy bars in a drawer in the desk, some that were clearly inedible. Some of the things inside I didn’t know what they were, so I didn’t dare touch them, and some video games, which I naturally grabbed. I doubted I would have time to play them in the middle of surviving, but you never really knew, and I didn’t want to get rid of an opportunity to get my mind off of the scary things happening in the world.  

I found some old POP figures, still in their boxes and some unfinished sketchbooks. I was excited about the sketchbooks because I loved drawing and I was low on my pages in my own sketchbooks. Walmart was closed, or empty, and I think everything had been emptied, even the sketchbooks! And sure, my drawing glove was wet due to being washed, and needed a long time to dry, but that didn’t change anything.

I was suddenly distracted by a noise coming from outside. So, I grabbed the nearby laptop that was sitting next to the monitor, shoved it in my bag before taking a look out there. I saw a zombie making its troublesome way down the street.

“Oh Crap!” I muttered.

Although I knew that there was a high likelihood that the zombie wasn’t headed particularly for me, due to being so far away, I still couldn’t risk anything, and so, I needed to get back home pronto. Zombies ruined every kind of party.

I ran down the stairs, ignoring the possibility of the living zombie in the kitchen, grabbed as many coats as I could from the closet that I had left open, and ran back home, making sure to be behind the cars to make sure the zombie didn’t see me.

The backpacks I was hauling felt like anvils as I ran. I wasn’t expecting needing to run THIS fast back home to be honest, but I guess that I should have expected something like this happening. To be even more honest, I should have expected more than just one zombie, which, when I think about it, was truly odd for the time.

I wasn’t really paying any attention to what kinds of noises the zombie was making, as that wasn’t important, but as I shoved the heavy metal door open, I could have sworn I heard it mumble something complex under its breath. I couldn’t tell exactly what it actually said, but it sounded like somewhat like human speech.

I managed to haul my new stuff to my bedroom and carefully piled everything onto a step on my bed. I closed my door before pulling my chair over to the pile to begin unpacking to see what I got as I wildly just grabbed some things without seeing what they were.

I sorted out everything that was obviously a necessity, like the light bulbs and candy bars. I would have gotten more healthy items, if the zombie weren’t lying on the floor of the kitchen, which was the room that most likely had those items. The cleaning supplies such as shampoo and conditioner went into a pile of especially necessary items, and the smaller versions of them into a pile to put back into my small bag once everything was said and done.

I stacked the books on top of each other, and the food in another stack. I realized that some had gone mushy, so I put them into an empty box to inspect them, to make sure that they were clean later with gloves. Maybe they had just melted, but you never knew.

There were many Hershies, and MnMs… the Peanut Butter cups were usually what I thought were questionable. I didn’t know if peanut butter molded or something. I had to figure out how to dispose of them, so they didn’t smell later, attracting any unwanted visitors.

I stashed the light bulbs in another empty box with padding of shredded paper.

I put the sketchbooks into another stack, intending to search through them, tearing out any inappropriate drawings and then using them as tinder or other things that one could use paper for. Well, with the amount of questionable substances in that room that I had gotten these from, you never would know what they would end up drawing… yeah.

I cringed at the thought of seeing THOSE kinds of things not on a zombie. I didn’t even think zombies kept those items after they’ve turned.

The VHS and the VHS tapes I set on my desk. I planned to look up tutorials of things I could use with old VHS tapes for the movies that I did not intend to watch. I didn’t even know how to hook up and install a VHS player, or much of anything for that matter. But that was for later.

The POP figures were stacked upon the ones I had already owned, Eevee and the Manticore from the Pixar or Disney movie, Onward. I associated myself with the Manticore, because although she was known to be nervous, her anger was something to be feared. I was an extreme introvert with not many friends, but when someone messes with the friends that I DO have, I get really scary… well… not that scary, but I bypass my natural fear of people and I get loud, and I will throw fists.

I set the laptop aside for later, I didn’t even see what kind of laptop it was as I was in a frantic hurry to get downstairs, grab the jackets and get back home. I intended to see if I had a charging cord for it, if it ended up having anything on it that I could use, like drawing inspiration or story scene ideas.

I didn’t check what type of laptop it was when I set it down, but I could tell you, it wasn’t an Alienware, or whatever the name was of the really powerful gaming laptop/computer was.

I piled the clothing in the corner of the room in front of my closet. I knew that most of them would be too big for me and that I would need to edit them. The small ones would have been way too small, as I didn’t see any people my age as they were outside in the front yard a lot before the zombies came… so I didn’t need to worry about trying them on.

The last thing I needed to do to sort out things, was to figure out what books and movies I had gotten and searching through the sketchbooks. But before I did that, I needed to take the soaps and light bulbs to the bathroom and change the dead bulbs.

So, I unboxed the light bulbs and took them to the bathroom, climbed up onto the bathroom sink and replaced the broken ones. I got off the sink and then flicked on the lights to see if they worked.

Although one did, the other literally exploded, thin shards of glass were shot everywhere and cracked the mirror. I flinched terribly, remembering the zombie that I saw walking down the street prior to returning home. Was it still there? Did it hear the commotion? Was it coming my way?

“Jesus!” I nearly screamed out loud, startled by everything.

I carefully walked around the glass on the floor to the window. I carefully lifted up the blinds and peeked out onto the street. The zombie was at the other house, or more precisely staring through the front window, not doing much of anything else.

I quietly set the blinds down, bent down, grabbed a small broom and dustpan, and then began sweeping up the glass. I dumped it into the trashcan underneath the bathroom sink before returning to my bedroom.

I sat down again in the chair and picked up the first stack of books.

I tossed aside any books about zombies, well, fictional stories about zombies, as there were no true zombie survival handbooks, which wasn’t surprising as that family didn’t seem to be one of the conspirators.

To my surprise I found one of my secret favorites, The Silver Eyes. Well, it wasn’t a rare novel to come by, but it was the comic version, and I thought that with the whole controversy and negativity surrounding the artist who did the line work, Pinkypills, I didn’t think a whole lot of people wanted to buy the book anymore. Mom and Dad certainly didn’t let me buy it, but not because of Pinkypills. They thought I said demons when I said ghosts when I explained what the FNAF franchise was about, which was confusing.

I giddily shifted in my chair as I thought of the future moments reading the comic when I was feeling down, or whenever I wanted to when I was safe. YAY!

“Just can’t wait!” I thought.

I naturally put that into the pile of things to put into my bag, it was something that I didn’t want to get rid of, you know.

I found a copy of The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but as I already had a copy of that for years, I put it in a stack of things that was for books that I wouldn’t cry over if I lost, but didn’t want to destroy intentionally.

Most of the other books were romance and stuff, which were things that I wasn’t intending to read. Burn pile they went.

I finished the pile pretty fast, as I usually did when I organized. I liked organizing things like this, putting different things into piles and whatnot, it was relaxing, almost made me forget for a moment that I was in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

The computer games were the only things left inside of the bag, but they were the last thing on my mind. I set them down beside my desk as I pulled my chair back to the front of the desk, underneath my loft bed.

I faced my computer, thinking on what to do next. I could search through the sketchbooks, but something in the back of my head worried about what kinds of weirdness I would see.

So, I decided to grab my old sketchbooks, my blue spiral bound ones, my black book bound ones, and the loose ones that I didn’t remember the brand of. My plan was to make a book of all of the drawings I didn’t want to lose in case I needed to run. I couldn’t carry ALL of my sketchbooks. Even if I didn’t have weak physical strength, I didn’t have the baggage space to do it.

I took all of my comic pages out, and put them in order, my FNAF fanart, my OC art. My OC and fan arts were my favorites.

I could care less about the face shape designing pictures, I could do that anywhere and at any time, as long as I was safe to do so.

It was difficult to unbind the pages from the black book bound ones, tearing out pages usually destroyed the neighboring ones, so I took a pair of scissors and cut them out as carefully and evenly as I could.

I didn’t tear much out of the blue spiral bound ones, as most of them were going to be the containers for the others. Sure, I took out the cruddy drawings, the failed ones, the unnecessary ones, and the random scribbles that I no longer needed, but as most of the drawings in them were good, I didn’t take out much.

It took a while to find dad’s stapler, and I stapled the ones together as best I could. In the end I had several thin piles of fan art, Brian and TUO art, OC art, and fakemon art. Some of which had sides that were mutilated, but I was careful to not to cut into any lines that I couldn’t fix or anything.

“That’s done, kind of hurt now.” I whispered. It was like tearing pages out of my favorite novel, but it was sort of survival while keeping my regret of leaving things I loved behind away, so I was mostly happy.

I laid back in the chair, sighing. I stared at the ceiling, I stared at the computer screen, I stared at the door.

I suddenly felt, uneasy, as if the air were buzzing around me. Although I had felt something like that similar, when either my secrets had been almost discovered, or when a plate or cup accidentally dropped from the cupboards and smashed upon the countertop and the smashing sound echoed through the house. You flinch, worried about what or how your parents would react.

Danger was in the air.

It was as if something were about to happen.

Instead of simply freezing, like I would have done previously, I began slowly, cautiously, began putting things into my bigger bag. My comic, my drawings, the plushies that I couldn’t leave behind. My food, my soaps, my clothing. Even the clothing that I had just grabbed from the neighboring house. I didn’t take the movies, or the games, I took my laptop, wrapped it in many layers of other clothes to make sure it had the highest possibility in surviving what was going to come.

The laptop’s cord was wrapped up and placed beside the laptop itself.  

The food was placed in the smaller pockets on the outside of the backpack, my drawing glove and pencils were placed next to the sketchbooks. I holstered my gun; I holstered my flashlight. I put the extra batteries into the small pocket of my pants.

I tugged lightly upon the jump drive dangling from the string on my neck. It was not only my lucky charm, it held every memory, every story, every written log of my life that had been upon my laptops, my computers, my notebooks. The things that I knew that either I would have to leave behind eventually for my own survival, or possibly break in a fight with zombies or rogue survivors.  

I had several others as backups, or some added space for new creations and stories to tell. Not that I planned to tell any of the stories to anyone other than myself, as I had a remarkably interesting way of writing them, the villains, and their relationships with the heroes.

I slowly walked out of the bedroom and put my ear upon the metal door separating the upper hall from the staircase. I didn’t hear anything, but the buzz was still surrounding me.  

I didn’t want to return to my bedroom, I couldn’t return to my bedroom. My bedroom was where I instinctively feel relaxed, but the instinct was clashing with the air, making it even more unbearable than it actually was, more unbearable than standing in the hallway, possibly in the middle of what could become a fight to the death.

I leaned up against the closet door behind me, sighed, leaned my head up and waited. I didn’t know why I wanted to lean my head up, I guess it was to stop myself from crying from the ever-building stress of the feelings around me. Preparing myself for anything.

I dug my toes into the carpet, feeling the softness of the threads under my feet. I couldn’t believe that my parents had been planning to replace it with hard floors prior to the zombie invasion, like they did with the lower floor. The carpet in the living room, family room, and the stairs had been torn off. The living and family room floors had been replaced with oak wood, the stairs had yet to be finished. They had been left as white, dirty wood that had been underneath the carpet. The nails had been removed, making it impossible to impale one’s feet if they had forgotten shoes or foot covering, but I missed having warm floors underneath my feet down there.

I didn’t like how it echoed down there. It felt like a warehouse rather than a home. Now, although it did still feel like that, it felt like that for a good reason, or at least a better one than it used to.

I had forgotten to keep my shoes on after returning home in case I needed to run suddenly. But I guess, running barefoot was faster and safer than running in flipflops. My tennishoes were one of the few things stolen or destroyed by the rogue survivors in that… incident. Better those than anything else that I couldn’t replace. You can replace shoes, but not memories.

I jumped when I heard a terrible resounding crash come from downstairs. It sounded like at least one zombie was down there. But I also heard a struggle, the sound of some living person fighting the zombie. A bang was then heard, a gunshot, obviously, no other thing could make a sound like that. A grenade could have, but due to the fact that nothing was sent into the air, on fire, and myself dead, it was a gunshot.

I readied my pistol. I carefully pushed my way through the metal door and down the stairs. I wasn’t thinking of the possibility of startling the person fighting the zombie, I just wanted the zombie out of there, for obvious reasons.

I peeked around the corner of the stairs. There were glass shards lying on the oak floor in front of the metal doorway, a man was on his back on it, a zombie on top of him.

I pointed my weapon at the cranium of the zombie, its brains were exposed from the cracked and broken skull of the creature. The blood was mostly coagulated and dried, but some fresh one flowed from the newly made wounds from the recent fight.

Its teeth were bared, and out of the mouth of the beast came almost desperate sounding whines and gurgles as it frantically grasped out to grab the man underneath it. The man underneath had a gun, in his left hand, but his left hand, or arm, looked injured.

I readied my gun and took the shot.

The zombie jolted back as its head exploded, sending splatters of blood everywhere, staining the walls, the door, the floor, and the man underneath. I stood there, staring, as the brain of the monster slid down the wall and the body lifelessly stumbled and crumpled to the floor.

The man on the floor struggled to get up. He was a burly man, buff from fighting many zombies prior. He wore a black biker jacket and a war helmet that had clearly seen many battles. He had a full beard of black hair, thick eyebrows and a glare that could send chills down anyone’s spine, as long as the spine belonged to anyone with a working brain.

 He stared at me, and I stared back. I didn’t know if he was a rogue survivor who had gotten caught up in a fight during a rogue mission, or if he was one of the other survivors, simply looking for shelter and not to cause any real harm.

He didn’t look that nice, to be honest. The gun in his left hand was bigger than mine, looked like it could do more damage too. Those hands looked like they could crush someone’s head in them.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this, miss.” He said gruffly, his voice was deep, it looked like it would have been deep. His manners didn’t reflect his appearance.

He didn’t raise that weapon towards me, I lowered mine, but slowly, making sure he didn’t make a wrong move.

“Thank you for that.” He continued. I looked sheepishly away, positive attention from strangers wasn’t common, well, neither was negative, but being in the spotlight was something I was uncomfortable with.

He turned around to look at the hallway, trying to figure out where he was specifically, I could suppose.

“This is where you live?” He asked, “The lights still on, working, electricity still must be working. How long have you been here? Are your parents’ home?” He asked.

I continued to stare at him, quizitively, judgingly, trying to make sense or something to tell him that I didn’t quite trust him yet.

I eventually slowly shook my head no as I turned to return to my room. He could rummage downstairs all he wanted, I had no important things down there, that was why we brought everything to my room anyway. The couches could have been destroyed, stolen, the TV didn’t matter, the lights were the closest thing to value.

Instead of hearing his boots across the oak flooring, they followed me, but they didn’t sound like sneaking, or trying to be aggressive. More like, curious or confused, wanting some more innocent information.

I turned around again, looking at him.

“Are you, ok in here?” he asked, I felt as though he thought I was younger than I was. But I didn’t complain, it was annoying though.

I sighed.

“You can come up, into my room.” I whispered, “Just don’t touch anything I don’t want touched.”

I continued up the stairs, him following me.

 I closed the door behind me and led him into my room.

His expression showed, shock, surprise, somewhat of impressed.

“How?” He asked, “How is everything still in working order?”

I decided to tell him everything, except the reason my parents weren’t home.

“Mom and dad had bought several generators prior to the rush before everything went to crap.  Still working on the third.” I explained.

“And they haven’t come back? Assuming they aren’t here.” He asked.

I shook my head no. I didn’t want to resurface the ideas that I didn’t want. I didn’t want to look vulnerable in front of someone who looked so strong. I still didn’t know what he was doing in my neighborhood in the first place.

He looked around the room, at the clutter, at the bookshelves, at the window.

“Looks like you just got back from scavenging huh?” He asked, sitting down in the brown/red chair beside my desk.

I nodded, pointing to my bag behind me. I didn’t really want to talk about what I had in there, didn’t want to get him tempted, in case he didn’t come with the intention to steal anything, but might become when he knew what the possibilities were.

He bent down and picked up one of the pages. I blushed, only because I worried about what was on it, as I tore out some, odd drawings.

He saw my expression and then put it back down. “I’m sorry, I kind of barged in and began looking at your private things.” He sighed.

I was about to speak when another crash resounded from the same room that the dead zombie was. This time, it sounded like the door was busted in.

The man jumped from his chair and crept out of the room. I naturally followed him, in case he was killed. I worried for two reasons, he didn’t seem like an enemy and I didn’t like seeing normal people die, but if he died, HE died, how would I survive the attacker with my own puny strength?

I readied my gun again as I followed him down the stairs. Unlike how I did, the man jumped onto the landing, screaming a war cry.

“Stand down sir!” Came a loud male, authoritive yell from the doorway. The man lowered his weapon and sighed with relief.

“It’s only you, Chief.” He sighed, “That’s a relief, I thought it was another zombie.”

 I slowly peeked around the corner to see what was going on. Another man stood in the doorway, he wasn’t as buff as the other, but didn’t look weak at all. Looked like an army soldier rather than a motor biker.

He wore the classic camo suit, tight around the waist, the wrists, and the ankles. An army helmet on his head.

“As I observe.” He said, looking down at the zombie before kicking it in the open groin.

He looked up again, about to say something, before noticing me. He now looked a bit more frantic, as if he had an important message that was interrupted by the other about to shoot him.

“I see you found a non-aggressive survivor. I came in to see if you had been killed by one of the rogues.” He said.

The biker shook his head.

“I was thrown through the window beside the door, she saved me as my arm had been numb from the pain. Shot it in the head with a pistol.” He explained. “And her house, fully operational. Electricity, running water, I suppose…” He turned to me to question.

I didn’t respond as I didn’t quite know why he was explaining this to the other guy, I didn’t really want a bunch of people in my space. I didn’t like large crowds of people I didn’t know.

“We have to go pronto,” The guy in the doorway said, his franticness seeming to grow larger, “There is a large hoard coming to this neighborhood at alarmingly fast speeds, so I suggest we get going. We could use the electricity generators, so get going and put them on the wagon!”

I was shocked! I was taken aback! Was this actually a group of rogue survivors? How would I do things without my generators?

Suddenly, the man in the doorway froze, his eyes wide and his jaw loosely dropped in what looked like an expression of agony. Then came the sound of something being sliced from behind him. Blood splattered upon the concrete porch.

I could see dress shoes standing behind him as the man fell forwards, on top of the zombie. All I could catch a glimpse of before the biker yanked me back upstairs was a flash of bright purple/pink. Who was the man in the doorway?

“Come on! We gotta go!” He ordered me as he threw me onto his back as he smashed open the window in dad’s office and jumped out of it. He slid down the drainpipe and ran down the street in the direction of a wagon that sat on the side of the street in front of the old church.

“What’s going on?” I asked, “Who was that?” I was really confused.

“Not now, I’ll tell you later!” The man huffed.

Wind rushed past my face as I had been grabbed from behind and was held with my back against his, my backpack pressed into my spine. Although, at the time, I wasn’t worried about the contents inside’s safety that much, I would have worried a bit of my laptop being crushed or snapped in two.

 The man tossed me into the wagon and jumped into the driver’s seat. I struggled to get up and see what the commotion was. Clearly that man had been dangerous, I mean, he killed a soldier that wasn’t causing any harm! He must have been at least a little unstable.

The wagon I was tossed on seemed to be a mix of an old farm wagon powered by repurposed motorcycle engines. The spaces in between the boards had been patched up with scrap metal sheets, kind of like a patchwork quilt.

The engine roared to life and took off down the street at full speed. I kept my head down and held my bag tight. There was only one other time I did something like this, being in the back of a truck and not buckled in, and that was when I was holding a desk in place down the highway.

On some several occasions the truck bounced, ran over something, and a painful sounding “SQUISH” followed. I guessed that he ran over some zombies.

Eventually, I managed to get comfortable enough to lay down on my back, holding tight to the backpack and stare up at the sky. The clouds looked dirty, the clear blue was hazy, and dust were being thrown into the air from the wheels upon the ground.

The sound of a scratchy walkie talkie started, and the man’s voice came through.

“I apologize for taking you away so suddenly, all I know is, is that man is extremely dangerous and powerful. He has killed a lot of people, or that’s what the leaders say, I cannot say for sure why he is doing this, or if he is working for someone worse.” He explained, “I’m taking you to the base, its full of survivors. I’ve been sent out to find more survivors, the more the better, the safer. It’s hard to keep track of them all when they are spread out.”

I sighed and turned over, looking for the walkie talkie in question. I finally saw it, crudely duct taped above the back window of the truck’s cabin.

“I can understand why you don’t respond, it’s quite a large change so fast. By the way, the name’s Derek.” The man continued.

I turned over onto my back again and closed my eyes. I didn’t know what to feel at the/that moment. My entire world was just taken away from me, or I was taken away from it. The walls that had kept me safe had been broken into and smashed into a million pieces.

Sure I had most of my most valuable possessions, or at least to me, inside my backpack, but all of the other memories that I was leaving behind, being yanked away from me like a teddy bear being taken away from a new born baby.

I couldn’t help but let a tear out of my eyes as the truck shook and rattled as it hit and ran over another zombie.

Chapter end….

Hi! 

I just wanted to give you a little update on my zombie apoc novels. 

I will continue to post them, but i will be posting them on my DeviantArt account. 

I am called ProfessorDomino, if you want to go over there and see the rest of the chapters as they come out. 

I still only have chapter 1 posted. 

Don't worry, i will still notify you here when i have posted something there, in case some of you don't have a DVA account.

Here is a Ferret Bee person! Just a cute little doodle...

Here is my newest OC and Avatar for my DVA account, Professor Domino!

Yes, these two’s faces are different, but, that's because i was kinda rushing and playing with his design in the first one, and even if i did know i wanted the shiny purple face i wouldn't have been able to do it very well anyway. 

Good news, even though i wasn't actively intending to do it, it looks like the dot in the middle of his face in the 2nd drawing looks a little bit raised, which is sorta what some of the dominos i looked at for reference has, so...

YAY!

Heh, this has got to be one of my best drawings i have on my DVA and Tumblr. I am very proud of it.