Just a little something I whipped up a while ago. Not really sure if I should turn this into a story or not, though it was requested by a classmate back in fifth grade. Reviews appreciated greatly!


Blood. Like ants on an old cracker, it's everywhere. Oh god, it's everywhere. The putrid smell of rotting flesh and fresh blood is so thick in the air, it's smothering me. The new recruit-Johnnie, I think his name was-looks on the verge of puking. I don't blame him. I would have been the same had I been in his shoes. We're walking around aimlessly, riddling any survivors full of holes.

And I'm staring down at this man-more a kid, really-and his big, lifeless eyes staring right back at me. He couldn't have been older than 16, no, 15 even. Did he have a little sister, or a brother, waiting for him to come home? Or a girlfriend?

That guilt that I had pushed away for so long comes rushing back with those thoughts. It closes up my throat and I can't breathe. Maybe that poisonous smell is finally getting to me. Maybe the blood is doing something. Maybe I'm scared all over again.