CowBoy From Hell
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Joined: 28 Jan 2007
Posts: 4341
Location: Michagan
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 Posted: Mon Mar 23, 2009 12:47 am Post subject: Contest story |
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So yeah me and a few buddys at school had a contest to write the best story, and Id like yours guys imput on if I should use this story ( not finished yet) as my entry. We got a pool of liek 20 bucks right now so any input would be amazingly helpfull.
(And yes. I wrote this. So it probably has zombies in it.)
I was skipping class on this very special occasion. I had made up my mind, after moths of debating back and forth, struggling against the sway of my mind. I entered the last bathroom in the right wing of the building, the door groaning as I tugged at its rusty old hinges. The smell was nauseating, Rowdy boys unable to, or just disgusting enough, to point their streams of piss away from the urinal, dousing the wall and floor underneath in their bodily excrement. I edged my ways past the standing pools on the floor and headed for the nearest stall. My hand hovered before the latch, unsure of what possible dieses lay in wait upon it. After a few moments of hesitation, I used my foot to open the door instead. What lay beyond the threshold of the door was almost unspeakable. The toilet was obliterated. Primates could have, and most likely would have, treated the toilet better. I started to gag and turned away. I stepped towards the next stall when I caught my reflection in the mirror. I looked nothing like I wished I did. My eyes had sunken back into my head; deep pits now lay, where a youthful delight should have been. My nose was crooked, still healing after the accident last month. My bottom lip was swollen from my stepfather, I had forgotten what had displeased him, and I guess it didn’t matter much now. I stared deep into my own eyes, and memories of times long past returned to me.
I had stood in this exact bathroom during my 5th grade graduation. Our school had received the honor of holding it in the high school, like the class of that year, instead of herding the parents of the 56 students in my class into the unnaturally small gym at the elementary school. I had been overly nervous. I would have to on stage longer then most students, to receive a special award. I used to love to draw when I was younger. I was good at it too. That’s how the award had come about. We had rehearsed it twice today, but I still wasn’t confident enough to simply walk up on stage, shake the principals hand as he gave me the award, and then walk off stage as the crowd applauded. I stared into my reflection to calm my nerves. Just like old times I guess. I stared at myself to calm my nerves, though now for insanely different reasons. I brushed my bangs from eyes with my free hand, then looked at the weight in my hand. I turned away, hating my own face now, wanting it gone. I strode to the last stall, the one for handicapped people and opened the door, praying silently to whatever god would listen that I wouldn’t see another horrific scene like the last stall. I thanked god under my breath as I discovered it to be clean as a whistle, then as I entered I thought about the phrase “Clean as a whistle.” I sat on the throne and peered out at my four-walled kingdom, knowing it would soon be my four-walled coffin. Messages had been carved into the walls, some pleasant, like a love letter that would never reach the girl it was meant for. While other were less pleasant, telling John were he could shove it, talk of Steve’s mother and what she would do for just a nickel, and a few odd quotes of wisdom. I laughed at the pure stupidly of it all. It was just all so point less. It took me seventeen years to figure it out, but a lesson learned later is still good. I sighed as I raised the barrel of the .357 to my right temple. I could end it all; bring myself to the other side with my own devices. I sighed once again and squeezed the trigger, the hammer flapped against the gun. I checked the weapon and realized I had forgotten to load it. I chuckled a little then went about loading it. I started to raise the gun again but stopped. The moment had gone, today was no longer the day. I stood and stuffed the gun into the back of my pants, pulling my shirt down to cover the handle.
“Back to math class, I guess.” I said to myself.
I left the stall, and quickly ventured past the pools of piss once more, finally to the door. It moaned again as I pushed against its tired spine, but opened nonetheless. I sighed again, this time loudly, as I turned the corner and waltzed onward to 4th period math.
I walked in 15 minutes late to class, but my teacher, Mr. Rass, didn’t even notice as I entered the class and headed for the back of the room where my friends congregate.. Most of the seats in back were empty today, with the exception of Wallace, and Emily. Wallace was short, in height and temper, though his level of intelligence was astounding. Why he choose to befriend me is something I’ll never understand, not when with a little drive he could be friends with whom ever he wanted. Emily was the closets thing I’d ever know as the girl next door. Though she lived six miles from my doorstep, we had grown up together. We used to play together in elementary school, and our friendship had remained strong through the years. In a cliché move, though as much as I hate to admit that life is full of damn clichés, I had fallen for her, though she didn’t and probably would never know. Wallace moved up a seat so that I could sit between the two and talk about what ever came to mind. I went to open my mouth when Mr. Rass cut me short. He held his teacher phone, as I had come to call it, and a weird, yet oddly calm look was plastered across his face.
“I have a…treat for you all today. No class work.” He said with a strong, confident smile.
The class seemed to moan in unison as the thought of increased homework quickly came to mind.
“No homework either. You guys have been working hard all year and it’s about time you all received a break. So homework for chapter 8.5’s study guide will be due tomorrow. Now just sit back and relax today.”
A pale look suddenly washed over him and he quickly sat back in his seat and began furiously typing at his keyboard. He stopped abruptly and noticed that the entire class was starring towards his computer screen, hoping to catch a glimpse of what ever he had begun to type. He reacted quickly and turned his computer away, then got back to work.
Now that he was out of the way I turned back to Emily.
“What was the deal with that? I walked in late and he didn’t even bother to say Hello?”
A cocky smile had spread across my face and I leaned back into my desk. I froze as I felt the handle of the pistol in the small of my back and leaned forward once more.
“I was wondering that myself.” She had a worried look on her face. She looked away from me and I noticed her cheek. The make up was uneven, heavy in spots, a lot heavier then normal. She wore more mascara then normal too, though her hazel eyes shown through the extra black like a polar bear in Africa. I froze as I realized that I had muttered the polar bear in Africa out loud.
“What?” Emily asked, a puzzled look creasing her brow.
“I didn’t say anything. But uhh what’s with the extra make up? Did you wake up drunk or did you try and use the make-up shotgun again?”
She reached forward and flicked my ear.
“God you’re a dick. Why don’t you try and be nice for once in awhile?” She asked in a serious tone, and though she tried valiantly, a small smile broke through. I went to say something more when Mr. Russ stood suddenly. A booming voice sounded across the intercom.
‘ All students are to stay in class, and all teachers and teacher’s aids are to report to lounge room 622. I repeat, all students are too stay in their class rooms and all teachers and teacher’s aids are to report to lounge 622.’Russ was gone before the intercom could repeat its self, leaving us to wonder just what the hell was going on.
Wallace turned to face me.
“Just what do you suppose is going on here? They never pull teachers away from us. They don’t trust people enough to let us be anywhere near something we could steal.
There must be something big going on to call this. Terrorists?” He asked.
Wallace had lost an uncle in 9/11 and now wanted nothing more then to get back at the ones responsible.
“We don’t know anything is wrong yet. Maybe it’s a teacher strike. You never know in this day and age. So just calm down mister jumpy. Put the horses back in the barn. And just to be safe, check your zipper too.” Emily openly laughed at the last remark.
I laughed as well. It started as a giggle, but built into full-blown laughter, as a memory of Wallace in first grade, his zipper found to be down in front of our entire class. He never lived that down until he was openly found out to have an IQ of 132. Through the laughter I went to toss in my fifty-cents worth in, when everything changed. Towards the front right of our class came a scream. Our laughter stopped and we looked at the source. It was Molly Shree. She held her cell phone, one of the expensive ones with the 4 year contract, and all the nifty little features and tools at your disposal in an instant. She held it out inn front of her, the screen animated; from where we sat we could see people moving about on it. I stood and hurried towards her, as well as half our the class, their own conversations disrupted, their attentions now turned to what ever had made the poor girl scream. I was shoved back away as closer students reached her side first. I ducked past a few people and snuck to her right side, kneeling next to her and her phone. My eyes were instantly glued to the screen as we witnessed horror beyond the likes of any of use.
“Molly!? What is this?” I asked, though my voice sounded strained.
A few other people chimed in wanting the same information.
“Its my cousin in San Francisco. She said she’s standing on top of her apartment building.” Molly answered after a few moments. Her face was ghost white, and shown through even through the make up.
The scene on screen was astounding in a horrible way. The city was imploding upon itself. Cars were flipped, crashed into anything and everything. Some lay burning, others lay on unlucky people. People ran amok. It looked like some were fighting with one another, openly brawling even as hell ran about them. I strained my eyes to try and make out more but I couldn’t. I broke my hypnotic gaze with the screen and looked up, to the opposite corner of the room. There was the school TV, ready and waiting to be put to some use. I stood and slid through the crowd, my spot instantly taken by some one else wanting a better look. I stood below the TV, and reached out with my hand. It seemed to take an eternity for my hand to reached the set. My mind raced with thoughts of what I might see when the little black cube sprang to life. My finger hit the button and it began to hum. Audio came before the video.
‘…more and more people scramble to safety. Once again I state that no knowledge say that America is currently under attack. Do not stay in yours homes. Marshal law has been declared in certain towns across America, the list in running at the bottom of your screen now. If your town is currently under Marshal Law you are ordered to leave your homes on foot and get to your local United States Armory. Further instructions with be issued there. All knowledge to date indicates that the unknown infection is spread through certain types of contact. If bitten or scratched enough to draw blood, you run the risk of being infected. If have symptoms of being infected, you will not be allowed into Armory safe zones. “
Suddenly Emily was at my side. She was shaking, but she had taken my hand. I grasped hers tightly and looked to the televisions again.
“Avoid any contact with the infected. After the infection takes hold, there is no clear way to spot the infected, unless they are attacking other people in a cabalistic manor.”b
Suddenly the anchor mans face went white; a scream was issued from off screen. He started to run left but some one tackled him, they both disappeared from view. The class waited on pins and needles for what happened next. Thirty seconds went by, a few more screams came from off screen. A minute went by when the came was hit by something. It rocked to the right then swayed back left. It hovered for a moment, looking as though it land safely back on it legs, then it fell over, the lens shattering on impact. The screen went black, and just like that, the end of the world had begun.
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CowBoy From HEll
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