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Starting writing this months ago, lost the drive. Worked out the plot details so started again.
Just throwing this up to get my ball rolling.
----
PROLOGUE
I hope your not expecting a happy ending. There’s no “and they lived happily ever after” or “but at the last minute, they were saved”.
It’d be nice, I won’t deny that.
But if you want fantasy and princesses and sunsets watched arm in arm by happy, now-wiser young lovers then go to a library and take a Barbara Cartland novel or some other tome dedicated towards pretending it all works out fine and hey, you’re a stronger person having gone through the experience.
Nope. What follows is what happened. I don’t know how or why, that can be left to those with enough time and a safe place to ponder and argue about the details. All I can do is sit here and write out my story, to explain how I went from being another surly little nobody to saviour of the entire goddam human race.
Actually that’s a lie, I’m not the saviour of anything except my own hide and a few others. But given the circumstances, that’s one hell of an achievement considering.
So I’m holed up here. I’ve got this laptop, enough bottles of vodka to see me through and christ knows how many cartons of smokes. If nothing else, irony survives eh? How many times have you heard the warnings about smoking? They even reached a point where they printed stuff on the packs designed to…I don’t know, put you off?
Let’s face it, if you can get past the first choking, puke-inducing inhale then a few words stamped on the pack ain’t going to change your mind. All the finger wagging in the world, all the research, all the warnings and it wasn’t the cigarettes that got us after all. But I don’t feel smug, I just feel tired.
Hang on, there’s banging at the door, I need to take care of it before I can continue. At least I’ll never have to worry about running out of bullets.
Right, that’s that.
Booze? Check.
Smokes? Check.
Memory and strength to record this like the industrious little historian I never was? Check.
I warn you, you’re not going to like what follows. You’ll find it hard to believe, reading this back in however many years. No doubt they’ll rewrite history to give this a positive spin, or introduce some pathetic reason to not teach or speak about what happened ever again, so if you’re reading this then either I’ve been celebrated as a chronicler of events, or it’s being passed around underground and whispered about in meeting halls or classrooms.
Don’t listen to the history books, they lie. Nobody knew why it happened, where it started or even who was the first. Oh I don’t doubt there are men in concrete bunkers somewhere that know. Men that talked in powerfully quiet voices, smoke cigars and thump the table to demonstrate just how-goddam-serious-this-all-is etc etc.
I’m talking about me and you, the people that actually got caught in this thing and had to learn to fight, kill, survive and evolve.
We never knew what happened until it was in our faces, and that’s always the last moment.
So settle back, dear reader, and flick the page over to embark on what you’ll dismiss as fiction. Except you and I both it’s not. I reckon I can make it to the end before it’s all over for me. I never used to be much of a typist but, as with everything else that happened, you learn fast or you fall and are finished.
Grammar, spelling, split infinitives, double-negatives? Those are all my mistakes, go complain to Mr Childs, my old English teacher at college.
If you can find him out there. If he even remember what a college is, and if he doesn’t bite your face off before you can say hi.
Are we ready? Everyone comfy? Good, then take a nice deep breath and begin.
Go.
Just throwing this up to get my ball rolling.
----
PROLOGUE
I hope your not expecting a happy ending. There’s no “and they lived happily ever after” or “but at the last minute, they were saved”.
It’d be nice, I won’t deny that.
But if you want fantasy and princesses and sunsets watched arm in arm by happy, now-wiser young lovers then go to a library and take a Barbara Cartland novel or some other tome dedicated towards pretending it all works out fine and hey, you’re a stronger person having gone through the experience.
Nope. What follows is what happened. I don’t know how or why, that can be left to those with enough time and a safe place to ponder and argue about the details. All I can do is sit here and write out my story, to explain how I went from being another surly little nobody to saviour of the entire goddam human race.
Actually that’s a lie, I’m not the saviour of anything except my own hide and a few others. But given the circumstances, that’s one hell of an achievement considering.
So I’m holed up here. I’ve got this laptop, enough bottles of vodka to see me through and christ knows how many cartons of smokes. If nothing else, irony survives eh? How many times have you heard the warnings about smoking? They even reached a point where they printed stuff on the packs designed to…I don’t know, put you off?
Let’s face it, if you can get past the first choking, puke-inducing inhale then a few words stamped on the pack ain’t going to change your mind. All the finger wagging in the world, all the research, all the warnings and it wasn’t the cigarettes that got us after all. But I don’t feel smug, I just feel tired.
Hang on, there’s banging at the door, I need to take care of it before I can continue. At least I’ll never have to worry about running out of bullets.
Right, that’s that.
Booze? Check.
Smokes? Check.
Memory and strength to record this like the industrious little historian I never was? Check.
I warn you, you’re not going to like what follows. You’ll find it hard to believe, reading this back in however many years. No doubt they’ll rewrite history to give this a positive spin, or introduce some pathetic reason to not teach or speak about what happened ever again, so if you’re reading this then either I’ve been celebrated as a chronicler of events, or it’s being passed around underground and whispered about in meeting halls or classrooms.
Don’t listen to the history books, they lie. Nobody knew why it happened, where it started or even who was the first. Oh I don’t doubt there are men in concrete bunkers somewhere that know. Men that talked in powerfully quiet voices, smoke cigars and thump the table to demonstrate just how-goddam-serious-this-all-is etc etc.
I’m talking about me and you, the people that actually got caught in this thing and had to learn to fight, kill, survive and evolve.
We never knew what happened until it was in our faces, and that’s always the last moment.
So settle back, dear reader, and flick the page over to embark on what you’ll dismiss as fiction. Except you and I both it’s not. I reckon I can make it to the end before it’s all over for me. I never used to be much of a typist but, as with everything else that happened, you learn fast or you fall and are finished.
Grammar, spelling, split infinitives, double-negatives? Those are all my mistakes, go complain to Mr Childs, my old English teacher at college.
If you can find him out there. If he even remember what a college is, and if he doesn’t bite your face off before you can say hi.
Are we ready? Everyone comfy? Good, then take a nice deep breath and begin.
Go.
Page:
Goatboy wrote:
> The sagacious one wrote:
> Ahh but it's all down to the character's perception of himself. He
> may
> be thinking that a bit of background will allow the reader to form a
> positive opinion of him, from acknowledgement of shared values and
> opinions. Therefore the character could think himself to be a
> likeable sort but in reality he may well be a complete ass.
> ---
>
> Bingo! Pick a prize.
No your respect is enough for me.
And I'd like a motorbike.
> The sagacious one wrote:
> Ahh but it's all down to the character's perception of himself. He
> may
> be thinking that a bit of background will allow the reader to form a
> positive opinion of him, from acknowledgement of shared values and
> opinions. Therefore the character could think himself to be a
> likeable sort but in reality he may well be a complete ass.
> ---
>
> Bingo! Pick a prize.
No your respect is enough for me.
And I'd like a motorbike.
The sagacious one wrote:
> Ahh but it's all down to the character's perception of himself. He may
> be thinking that a bit of background will allow the reader to form a
> positive opinion of him, from acknowledgement of shared values and
> opinions. Therefore the character could think himself to be a
> likeable sort but in reality he may well be a complete ass.
---
Bingo! Pick a prize.
> Ahh but it's all down to the character's perception of himself. He may
> be thinking that a bit of background will allow the reader to form a
> positive opinion of him, from acknowledgement of shared values and
> opinions. Therefore the character could think himself to be a
> likeable sort but in reality he may well be a complete ass.
---
Bingo! Pick a prize.
Zombies?
28 days later?
Eh?
There are no zombies, nor "infected" or owt like that. It's just how someone with little reference would explain a situation, using films/books he's seen. Like anyone says "Oh so and so did this, it was just like in that film we watched".
I can see how you might think that though.
But nae zombies. Or zombie sex orgies.
Although having said that now...
28 days later?
Eh?
There are no zombies, nor "infected" or owt like that. It's just how someone with little reference would explain a situation, using films/books he's seen. Like anyone says "Oh so and so did this, it was just like in that film we watched".
I can see how you might think that though.
But nae zombies. Or zombie sex orgies.
Although having said that now...
I dunno, i found that i could relate to the character quite well. I certainly never entertained a dislike for him.
Unusual for me to read posts that are so long.
You can take that as a compliment.
You can take that as a compliment.
Comeback? To be a comeback there would have to have been something said to me to come back to, no?
But that aside, it wasn't meant as an insult.
But that aside, it wasn't meant as an insult.
One thing's for sure: I bet the sex scenes will be good - I'm thinking a hundred-strong zombie orgy on hallowed ground...
[Assuming there will be sex scenes of course]
[Assuming there will be sex scenes of course]
If that's the best comeback you can manage, you should be more concerned about yourself.
Insane Bartender wrote:
> If that's the kind of character you like, then you'll like the character.
Did that take you a long time to think up?
> If that's the kind of character you like, then you'll like the character.
Did that take you a long time to think up?
Interesting - not seen 28 days later or read the book someone mentioned so I'd like to see more.
Except if the main character does turn out to be like 'Thomas Convenant'.
Except if the main character does turn out to be like 'Thomas Convenant'.
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