Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > Demons (a Walking Dead fanfic)
DEMONS
CHAPTER ONE
“I need another Strawberry Explosion!” someone yelled. Paisley Harris hurried through the restaurant as fast as she could, pushing her zombified boss out of her way.
Wait, what? She spun around and watched as the head chef collapsed and hit the hot stove.
“Oh my god!” Paisley yelped as she woke up. It was a different zombie every night, but it was still a nightmare. She looked over at the side of the bed where her late husband used to sleep, and noticed that his dog tags were still on his bedside table. He didn't put them on...
Paisley grabbed her gun off of her bedside table and stood up. Her husband had more than a few guns laying around the house, and she had made use of them the past few days. Before she left the bedroom, she grabbed the dog tags and hung them around her neck. She ran her fingers over the cool, raised metal that told her husband's name, branch of service, and religion. Her husband, Owen Harris, was nondenominational, a blood and organ donor, and always confrontational. They had been set up on a blind date by their best friends in Knoxville, Tennessee, and it ended in a marriage four months later, when Paisley moved to Atlanta with Owen. Then three months into her marriage Owen had been called in to help deal with the zombies in downtown Atlanta. He kept in touch with her but wasn't allowed to tell her anything that was going on. When he stopped calling, she knew he had “died”.
As she began feeling her way blindly down the staircase, she felt her foot hit something filled with paper. Paisley bent down and picked up a binder she had put aside to fill with recipes, but was now thrown to the floor in one of her usual fits of depression, anger, and loneliness. She carried it to the living room with her and laid it on the coffee table; she put her gun beside it along with a few rounds of ammo. She went into the kitchen and inspected what she had left in the cabinets. She grabbed some dry cereal off from the top of the refrigerator and began munching on a handful. She pulled her notebook toward her on the top of the table and began writing.
~
October 7
I've been living like this for a few months now. I've lost so much weight I can probably slide through cracks and crevices with ease. I'm thinking of leaving soon, but I'm not too sure. I've seen those zombies and what they do to humans like me. I'm positive it's the end of the world, and if I don't leave soon I'll be like them!
~
Paisley flipped her notebook closed. She had more than one short journal entry just like it, going back as far as August. Owen had been mad at her when she quit her job as a pastry chef to become a writer, but when he admitted to her that he was just jealous that she might become the breadwinner one day she had laughed at him like he was crazy.
As she walked back into the living room, she heard a gunshot outside. She ran to the dark window and looked outside. She saw a stranger with his right arm extended, gun in hand. Then all she saw was the mob of zombies that attacked him. She covered her mouth and backed away from the window.
Oh my god... I got to get out of here! Paisley ran back upstairs with her flashlight and a backpack and began putting things she would need in it. A few changes of clothes, some necessities... and her favorite book. She carried the backpack downstairs and began filling it with canned food, water, and put her notebook in it, along with the binder she had found earlier. She ran back upstairs and grabbed a few guns and a bunch of ammo from her late husband's gun cabinet. When she finally decided she was done, she grabbed her multiple sets of cooking knives from their drawer and rolled each set out on the table. One by one, she checked the sharpness of the knives until half the hair on her left arm was gone. She grabbed one of the knives, rolled each set back up, and stuck them in her backpack. She slung it over her back and grabbed her gun and the ammo.
~
October 7 (continued)
I've decided to leave the house. Owen would call me stupid for doing so, but if he were alive he would do the same thing. I have to do what's best for my life, and my life is in danger here. Maybe I can find some other survivors out there. Until then I am on my own.
~
Paisley turned and looked back at her home before she left. It was where she first lived on her own after she got married, and where her and Owen were going to raise their kids. Now she's leaving it for good. She didn't like wandering off on her own but right now it seemed best. She opened her front door and stepped out into the halfway empty streets of her neighborhood that were full of zombies.
CHAPTER ONE
“I need another Strawberry Explosion!” someone yelled. Paisley Harris hurried through the restaurant as fast as she could, pushing her zombified boss out of her way.
Wait, what? She spun around and watched as the head chef collapsed and hit the hot stove.
“Oh my god!” Paisley yelped as she woke up. It was a different zombie every night, but it was still a nightmare. She looked over at the side of the bed where her late husband used to sleep, and noticed that his dog tags were still on his bedside table. He didn't put them on...
Paisley grabbed her gun off of her bedside table and stood up. Her husband had more than a few guns laying around the house, and she had made use of them the past few days. Before she left the bedroom, she grabbed the dog tags and hung them around her neck. She ran her fingers over the cool, raised metal that told her husband's name, branch of service, and religion. Her husband, Owen Harris, was nondenominational, a blood and organ donor, and always confrontational. They had been set up on a blind date by their best friends in Knoxville, Tennessee, and it ended in a marriage four months later, when Paisley moved to Atlanta with Owen. Then three months into her marriage Owen had been called in to help deal with the zombies in downtown Atlanta. He kept in touch with her but wasn't allowed to tell her anything that was going on. When he stopped calling, she knew he had “died”.
As she began feeling her way blindly down the staircase, she felt her foot hit something filled with paper. Paisley bent down and picked up a binder she had put aside to fill with recipes, but was now thrown to the floor in one of her usual fits of depression, anger, and loneliness. She carried it to the living room with her and laid it on the coffee table; she put her gun beside it along with a few rounds of ammo. She went into the kitchen and inspected what she had left in the cabinets. She grabbed some dry cereal off from the top of the refrigerator and began munching on a handful. She pulled her notebook toward her on the top of the table and began writing.
~
October 7
I've been living like this for a few months now. I've lost so much weight I can probably slide through cracks and crevices with ease. I'm thinking of leaving soon, but I'm not too sure. I've seen those zombies and what they do to humans like me. I'm positive it's the end of the world, and if I don't leave soon I'll be like them!
~
Paisley flipped her notebook closed. She had more than one short journal entry just like it, going back as far as August. Owen had been mad at her when she quit her job as a pastry chef to become a writer, but when he admitted to her that he was just jealous that she might become the breadwinner one day she had laughed at him like he was crazy.
As she walked back into the living room, she heard a gunshot outside. She ran to the dark window and looked outside. She saw a stranger with his right arm extended, gun in hand. Then all she saw was the mob of zombies that attacked him. She covered her mouth and backed away from the window.
Oh my god... I got to get out of here! Paisley ran back upstairs with her flashlight and a backpack and began putting things she would need in it. A few changes of clothes, some necessities... and her favorite book. She carried the backpack downstairs and began filling it with canned food, water, and put her notebook in it, along with the binder she had found earlier. She ran back upstairs and grabbed a few guns and a bunch of ammo from her late husband's gun cabinet. When she finally decided she was done, she grabbed her multiple sets of cooking knives from their drawer and rolled each set out on the table. One by one, she checked the sharpness of the knives until half the hair on her left arm was gone. She grabbed one of the knives, rolled each set back up, and stuck them in her backpack. She slung it over her back and grabbed her gun and the ammo.
~
October 7 (continued)
I've decided to leave the house. Owen would call me stupid for doing so, but if he were alive he would do the same thing. I have to do what's best for my life, and my life is in danger here. Maybe I can find some other survivors out there. Until then I am on my own.
~
Paisley turned and looked back at her home before she left. It was where she first lived on her own after she got married, and where her and Owen were going to raise their kids. Now she's leaving it for good. She didn't like wandering off on her own but right now it seemed best. She opened her front door and stepped out into the halfway empty streets of her neighborhood that were full of zombies.
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