#ftdatd

[aalyre]

i just found the most perfect chapter title for my favorite chapter in so happy

[hurt-and-hopeful]

For the Dead and the Dying chapter 3

I wanted to go ahead and get this one out

TW: emotional whump, gore, guns, slight body horror, violence, death (let me know if I missed any ^^)

Reeling with the realization that everyone who could have helped me was dead, I stumbled back into the house. The smell of rotting flesh seemed to be less suffocating inside, despite the broken windows and door. Or maybe that’s what I wanted to believe.

I desperately wanted to go back to the false safety of the basement. But my stomach was still empty, even more so now. 

I made my way to the kitchen, or what remained of it. It was hard to tell what the room had been with all the appliances, counters, and cabinets torn out and tossed to pieces. 

Long jagged gashes ran across the walls. 

It hurt to see the place I’d grown up in destroyed without a thought. The table I had sat at with Mom on so many occasions telling her about school, the new english teacher I liked, sharing with her a short story I had written, listening to her tell me all about work gossip. It was hard for me to accept that that life had been thrown to the ground and shattered to a million pieces, like the glass crunching beneath my feet.

Fresh tears welled up in my eyes, and I choked back a sob. Quickly wiping them away, I took in several deep breaths. They came out very shaky. 

Focus. I have to focus on the task at hand.

Still sniffling, I began digging through the wreckage, pulling out things I can use, being as careful as I could not to cut myself on broken glass or get a splinter. A few were inevitable.

Unfortunately, after sifting through everything for what seemed like hours, I came up with only some packaged snacks, a few batteries, and a half finished bottle of water.

Everything else had either been shredded, or crushed.

I’d gone to my bedroom, which was similarly destroyed like the rest of the house, and salvaged a few shirts, a couple pairs of pants, and a green jacket I never wore. I was grateful for the jacket. The days were chilly and the basement was devoid of heat. Sadly, the only shoes I had were the ones that I had come home in, a simple pair of black converse, and were far from the most durable. 

I turned over a board that I think belonged to my bed frame, and found my journal, a simple notebook with a star sticker on the front. I excitedly picked it up and brushed off the dust and debris that clung to it. It wasn’t that damaged and I was glad I could save it. I had been working on it for a little under a year, consistently adding thoughts and ideas to it. I found I really enjoyed writing. 

It would give me something to do while I wait for Mom, I thought as I slid it carefully into my backpack.

The sun was lower in the sky, if I had to guess I’d say it was probably around four, maybe a little earlier. 

It started quietly, I didn’t register it as anything more than the wind. But a quiet shuffling was beginning to grow to gentle scrape. 

I came down the stairs with a backpack of stuff slung over my shoulder, and turned the corner to go down to the basement, when I was hit in the side and sent flying.

I’ve heard people who have been in sudden situations such as this describe it as time slowing down, suddenly becoming hyper aware of their surroundings and senses. I had the opposite effect. One second I was heading towards the basement door, the next I was rolling to a stop in the living room, broken glass tearing into my clothes and skin. Both the backpack and the gun fell from my hands from the impact.

I scrambled to my feet as quickly as possible, but a long, skeletal hand wrapped around my shoulder and slammed my back into the wall, knocking all the air from my lungs.

I stood there gasping for air as I stared into a blank face. The black void cracked, splintering in the middle to reveal the deathly grin, fangs glinting a bloody red. Its cold breath smelled of the rotting corpse’s outside.

I shrank in the face of something so terrible. Who could blame me? I was a kid.

It opened its horrible maw, leaning down to end my life. 

It’s clawed fingers piercing my flesh is what shocked me out of the instinctual freeze that all prey seem to have. 

I threw myself sideways, out of the way as the demon snapped the air where my head had been a second earlier. It still had a hold on me and its grip only tightened, wrenching a cry from me. I reached around blindly for a weapon, anything, as it put a hand on my head to keep me still.

The gun lay uselessly out of reach.

I struggled helplessly as it leaned in again, its deathly breath ghosting over my skin.

My hand wrapped around something thin and sharp. I held tight and I swung it up and into its neck. A sickening spurt told me I hit home and something spattered over my face.

The demon reeled back, releasing me as it grabbed at its throat, making me tear the weapon out in the process. I reared my legs back and kicked it in the chest as hard as I could. Even weak as I was, the adrenaline rush gave me the strength to send it flying back.

It was making a gurgling noise, trying to scream around blood.

I scrambled to my feet, brandishing what I now found was a large piece of broken glass, likely from a window.

Despite its weakened state, it lunged for me, claws outstretched.

I ducked in an attempt to dodge it, but it was still coming. I turned the glass point up and its own momentum plunged the glass deep into its chest. 

Its body slammed into me and I fell to my back, crushed by its weight. But it didn’t move any more.

Panting heavily, I rolled its body off mine. Leaving the shard of glass embedded in its chest, I kicked it away as I got to my feet, still afraid it would come for me again.

It stayed down.

Thanks for reading, stay hydrated ^^

Masterlist

[aalyre]

school has been kicking my ass but still i’ve been able to write a bit!! i want to be able to post this new chapter soon (finally) no promises cause uni is what it is…. but i’ll do my best!

[aalyre]

sometimes i sit down and wonder why i thought writing a three parts long ass fic as my first ever fic was reasonable

[aalyre]

IM AM FREE FROM EXAMS FTDATD WILL BE BACK SOON

[aalyre]

born to write For the dancing and the dreaming, forced to focus on my law class

[hurt-and-hopeful]

The dead and the Dying Chapter 2

I’m so glad you guys liked the first chapter!! I’ll try and update when I can but I only have a few more chapters to upload ^^,

TW: gun mention, slight body horror, starvation, sleep deprivation, gore, blood, emeto (let me know if I missed any ^^)

The demon pounded on the door for a while after I had secured it shut. But the door held strong. It had to, to protect everything inside it if the need arose.

I had never been down in the basement as long as Mom had been using it for her research. I remember as a young child, the smell of mildew permeating the air, and a single dim light bulb lighting the large space. 

It was much different now. The space was lit by lots of standing lights, and while very messy, everything was kept clean. The air smelled sterile. Tables with varying projects littered the room.

The desk was pushed against the wall to the right of the stairs, its surface covered in papers and a few coffee cups. I spotted a mug shaped like an owl amidst the mess. My favorite mug. I had wondered where it went.

Still very shaky, the sight of the demon fresh in my eyes as it pounded on the door up the stairs, I made my way to the desk. 

I had to pick my way through stacks of books and papers, careful not to trip. Distantly, this surprised me. Mom has always been very neat. 

But the thought was forgotten as I wrenched open the drawer. Pushing around the clutter of pens and pencils, paper clips and other items, I found the gun shoved in the back. 

It was a small handgun. I wasn’t very familiar with guns at the time so I couldn’t tell you what it was. With it I found a small box of ammunition. Being very careful with it, thinking about all the danger I heard surrounding guns, I figured out how to load it.

Within the time I was loading, the banging slowed…then stopped altogether. Without it, I could hear other sounds floating in through the cracks and thin spots of my safe haven.

I heard gunshots, and sirens. Screams and screeching, both human and…not. There were helicopters too, I remember. But everything quickly faded to a smothering silence, only broken by the occasional scream or shot that made me jump.

A day passed, one of the worst days of my life. The silence became persistent. I sat, trembling under the desk, clutching the gun as if it would fly away if I didn’t hold on tight enough. 

I prayed that Mom would come soon.

Another day passed, the lights went out. Luckily there had been a small flashlight in one of the desk drawers.

I still had not moved from my spot, except to drink water from a small sink in the corner. I could already feel the effects of lack of food and proper sleep. If I didn’t do something soon, I would die.

Unfortunately, Mom didn’t keep food or snacks down here. Why would she need to?

Which is how I found myself at the top step, holding a gun in a shaky hand. 

My hand hovered over the handle for a moment. I twisted around and went back down the steps, muttering and arguing with myself.

Just wait for mom.

But what if she takes too long?

She said she’d be here as quickly as possible, she can’t be too much longer.

What if the demon is still up there?

I haven’t heard anything.

What if it’s waiting for me to come up?

Chewing on my nails, I paced in front of the stairs landing. I glanced back up at the door, securely shut. Images of a bloody grin flashed through my head. Taking a deep breath, the image cleared with a shake of my head.

Up the stairs I went, again. I counted them as I climbed. …4…5…6…7…

In front of the steel door again, I took a long shaky breath. I let out in a big huff as I took hold of the handle and turned it.

It swung open quietly, the only sound a quiet whine coming from the hinges. I froze. The sound of silence pounded my ears. No running. Or shuffling. No screams, or shrieks.

As I stepped out the door, my head swiveling, a strong metallic smell met me. It’s intensity forced me back a step.

Carefully stepping over the ruined remains of the living room windows, my shoes crunching quietly on the broken glass, I went to investigate the world I now found myself in.

The front door hung halfway off its hinges, creaking slightly in the soft breeze that now blew freely through the house. The wind brought with it a fresh wave of the metallic smell.  There was something else too, something I couldn’t quite name…

I stepped through the threshold, and my breath caught in my throat. Gaging, I slapped a hand over my mouth as I took in the sight before me. 

Rot. That was the smell. And dried blood. 

It spattered the street and houses, pools of it dried in the afternoon sun. Mutilated bodies, torn and shredded, lay bloated and rotting in heaps. Scattered everywhere.

I retched, unable to stomach it. My stomach was empty, but it still managed to rid itself of its own acids as I leaned over the dry, prickly  grass.

Panting and trembling as I wiped the bile from my lips and the tears from my eyes, I sat up and stared at the carnage.

A quiet wind swept over the scene.

I was alone.

thanks for reading, stay hydrated ^^

Masterlist

[hurt-and-hopeful]

For the Dead and the Dying

A story about a girl named Edith, whose life is turned upside down when demon like creatures begin to roam the earth, and she must find ways to survive and reunite with her mom.

TW: body horror, gore, starvation, violence, gun violence, blood

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3