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Write whatever you want here. Poetry, horrors, love stories. We don’t discriminate. I’ll even post some of my stories maybe when I’m done editing them.

 
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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1H2gVFDXtcqkpwcY7OhIQv6yRWdlmMeDcAohkwZf8qWg/edit?pli=1
I still have editing to do, but so-far this is my story.

 
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Try formatting your story a little better. It’s really hard to read a wall of text.

 
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It’s too time-consuming to try and format stories on this bloody website’s post format. Just don’t try it. Use Google Documents or something, make it publicly viewable and link it. Then everyone can understand and attempt to read the whole thing.

 
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Ok

 
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updated

 
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I recommend you use third person, first person is pretty hard to build tension. ALSO, I think you built the atmosphere too fast, so that I was bored halfway through this rather short story (Even SHORT stories aren’t that short.) Maybe a slower, more forboding feeling would be a good addition.

 
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Title still not thought of
I was walking down the street, which was filled with debris and corpses sprawled out in the open road. I was walking for a good 3 hours when a pile up of cars caused me to pause for a second. I groaned, I didn’t want to climb or do anything now. I had been either running, climbing or crouching all day. I figured that if I just kept moving a little bit longer I’d be able to find some food or water. Plus night was setting in quickly, if I could get over the pile I could probably find an open store or something and make up camp in there. I sighed and grabbed the handle of a locked ford and pulled myself up.
I climbed on top of some sort of minivan and found a little opening between a pick up and the wall. I ran over to it, having to jump over a small gap while doing so, and squeezed through it. I cut myself on the cracked rear view mirror, which was now facing the sky, but it was only a small one, and made it to the other side. I paused again to look at the setting sun. Few things were as beautiful as the scene before me anymore. I smiled and took a step forward and was immediately caught on something. “Man I don’t have time for this!” My blood would surely attract those “things”. I turned at a 30 degree angle to free myself but stopped when I saw that it was a hand that had grasped the side of my pants.
Panic took over and I began to quickly pull and tug and bash the hand against the side of the door. I heard a voice and l looked into the pickup. An old man was sitting in the passenger seat, he was beat up and blood was dripping from his forehead on to his eye. “Remember that time when everything was normal, he croaked, when we could step outside and take in the fresh air, not worrying about the smell of burning buildings and bodies. Remember when life was life and death was death? NO? Good, its best to just put that little thought out of your head there and just move on heh heh ”. Clang! There was the sound of falling metal not to far away. “ What was that? HAHAHAHA their coming little fly! Shoo fly shoo!!! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!cough cough he he he”
He was obviously crazy, and from the looks of how skinny he was, delirious. But the sound did worry me a bit, it didn’t sound too hollow so I thought it was just a raccoon or rat trying to get into an unopened trash can. crash I heard the sound of breaking glass and it was closer, much closer. The panic came back and as I tried to free myself the old man just kept on ranting and laughing. His grip and strength was amazing!
“Your wing seems to be caught little fly”
“Gahhh let go!” I cut HIS arm on the broken glass frame
“Buzz buzz buzz heheheheheh”
I began clawing his hand to hope pain would break through his insanity “ pleeease!”
“Like every little fly you’ll get squished on a wind shield”
I yelled out in frustration, I could see shadows dancing in the fires reflection
“Or pop from filling on another’s blood HAHAHAHAHAHA HEHEHEH HOOOHOOHEHE*cough cough*
I was about to bite his arm in my little blur of instinct, but his grip loosened instantly. He began choking on his own snot and spit. I turned and got a little glimpse of reflection again. human shadows were running, no, sprinting towards my direction! I turned and just ran, nowhere in particular, just away from there! I saw an old 7-11 gas station and hoped the owner left it open when the city was evacuated. My lungs were on fire and my legs felt like they were going to rip, I screamed in pain as I made my last burst of adrenaline count. I ran into the door not daring to stop, ripped it open, and shut it as fast as I could. I couldn’t rest yet, they might still be after me. I grabbed a potato chip stand and without really thinking, put it in front of the door hoping to make some sort of barricade.
As I set it into place I noticed that there was no one directly out side. I could see the silhouettes of people thrashing around the pickup truck. Thank god I wasn’t close enough to hear that poor old man’s screaming. Or maybe I was and just couldn’t hear it, my head was pounding and my ears were ringing after all. Either way it was dangerously close to dark and I knew more of those people, if that’s what you called them, would come out soon. I needed protection and soon. I looked on the far left wall and saw a metal door with a sign on it saying “ask manager for restroom key”, perfect.
I went around the counter to find the key. What I found instead was the clerk under a pile rolled up lottery tickets. I got used to smell of the dead ,so I was great full for that, but the odd thing was that he didn’t have any gunshots on him, that were visible at least, or any other kind of major mark on him. I saw what looked like a knife wound on his arm but I don’t think that could have killed him. It was weird but I could ponder it while hiding in the rest room (there’s some thing I can’t say every day). I began digging through the tickets to find the key on the man’s body. I found it hanging out of his side pocket right next to his pistol. I smiled to myself and said” sweet”. I grabbed the key and tried to undo his holster but it wouldn’t move. I barely had any light to work with now and figured I should probably get the door open and start putting food and drink into it while I could still read the labels. I don’t know about you but I really don’t wanna accidentally drink anti freeze. I grabbed his gun and put it in the back of my pants.
I walked over to the door and unlocked it; there was a wooden door prop ,coincidently enough, so I propped it open and turned to the chip rack I used to “barricade” the door and pushed it in to the bathroom. I walked over to the refrigerator and picked a couple of bottled waters and threw them through the door way. I started towards the door and stopped. crinkle crinkle I turned to see the manager standing up right with his jaw slightly hanging off of its hinge. His brown kakis were stained green and yellow from pus. He gurgled loudly, as if trying to yell, and ran at me. I pulled out his gun from behind me and without aiming fired. I closed my eyes when I squeezed the trigger. I opened them to see a hole in a “win a trip around the world” poster and red on the side of the wall. I looked down at my feet to see the man dead, again, with a trickling hole in the back of his head. It was perfectly round and clean, almost artistically placed. I stepped back for the ooze, that was lightly pouring out ,was now starting to pool. I felt a sick at what I had done and fell to my knees. I began to heave but nothing happened, there was nothing to come out.
I heard the screech of another one of those “things” followed by more howls and yells. I got back up and stepped into to the door. I kicked the peg away and let the door slowly shut with a satisfying click. I waited for a while but nothing happened so I began feeling for the chip rack. I grabbed it and tried to pull myself up but just ended up slamming it to the ground with a loud clang. Not even a minute later I heard glass shatter and screams erupt from inside the store. They were hunting me! Stalking me! They were going in for the kill! They ran at the bathroom door, kicking and scratching it, thinking that it would give way. As they bombarded the door I scuffled to the opposite wall crushing a bag of chips along the way. I realized that, HEY, I’m hungry! I grabbed the bag and ripped it open. The sweet smell of jalapeño filled the air. “Mmmm my favorite”
The banging and crashing stopped after what felt like hours but in reality it had only gone on for fifteen minutes. I ate a few more bags and then crumpled up my trash to use as a makeshift pillow. I found a nice spot in the corner and curled up with the gun and fell asleep. I kept on waking up in the middle of the night freezing! I never knew a bathroom could get THAT cold. I huddled up a little more each time and eventually just drifted away.
I woke up confused not quite remembering where I was or what happened. I sprawled open and stretched while still on the ground and pain instantly paralyzed me for a second. The gun had imprinted itself along my rips and it…well…hurt. I sat up and with a groan and remembered I was in a bathroom. The smell of urinal cakes were actually welcoming, it was a nice change to the smell of rot and smoke that had already polluted the city. I began to get up and hit my head on the sink; I groaned again and continued to pull myself up. I couldn’t see anything, the room obviously didn’t have any widows, but the suns light coming through the bottom of the door provided some sort of navigation.
I stumbled towards the door and grabbed the handle. I pushed on it but nothing happened, I was confused but almost instantly realized why. I smacked myself on the forehead, which wasn’t the best thing to do, and pulled on the handle instead. The door opened with a heavy screech and light suddenly filled the room. It was just too bright to handle right away so I turned my back to it and saw my surroundings.
It was a three stalled bathroom with only one sink in the corner and a cracked mirror above it. In the opposite corner there were three urinals, you know THAT was bad planning. I saw that one of the stalls were closed and ,I don’t really know why, I felt like opening it. “OCD strikes again”, I said to myself. As I approached the stall I noticed that a faint stink was coming from it. “Either someone forgot to flush…” I grabbed the gun from behind my back just in case. I stuck my finger into the latch hole and lifted.
The door opened on its own so I backed up and aimed forward. When the light began to creep over the doors shadow, I saw a man sitting on the toilet, he was dead. He looked like he was in his early forties and his hair looked like it was turning grey. He was holding a picture of a little girl; she looked no more than eight to me, in one hand and a white plastic bottle in his other. I put my weapon away and stood there a while feeling pity for the man. I sighed and shut the stall again while turning towards the exit I grabbed one of the bottles of water and headed out.
I was kind of shocked at the damage the things had done to the place. Glass from the door and main windows were smashed and strewn about the floor, newsstands and snack racks were flipped to the side and against the wall. The one I had shot yesterday was still there but bits of dirt and blood had created footprints on his back. I stepped over him and continued to the door. I looked up at the sky and saw the sun rise. Its beauty only rivaled that of the sun set, but the difference is the site that is behold me meant that this was a new day, a new beginning. I can enjoy the sight for as long as I want. I don’t need to run, don’t need to hide, just move forward.

 
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It’s already been said in two posts on this thread, one of them being myself, no one is going to read your huge wall of text. It’s an eyesore. Get some formatting in by using an external editor and linking it in your post.

 
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Originally posted by DragonArcherZ:

I recommend you use third person, first person is pretty hard to build tension. ALSO, I think you built the atmosphere too fast, so that I was bored halfway through this rather short story (Even SHORT stories aren’t that short.) Maybe a slower, more forboding feeling would be a good addition.

Thanks for the suggestions, but it’s not written in first person. It is written in second. I thank you for the criticiscm, but please pay for attention to your reading and writing classes. Assuming your still pretty young as am I.

 
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The glass was still cold in my hand. But empty it was, and the damned thing wasn’t going to fill itself.

So I begrudgingly pushed the chair back, stood up, and walked briskly to the counter. The last time I did this – I got lost. The damned cat was already wailing at me – despite having eaten not a couple hours ago. So I had scooped her some food into her bowl – took a purposeless, empty stare into the refrigerator and, finding nothing, found myself facing the computer monitor once again.

The problem was – I had forgotten to pour myself another drink.

I felt the cool breeze blowing against my skin…I was back in the springtime – looking out the open window at the street outside. Watching the car pull up; her getting out. Myself not moving – smiling knowing she would be walking through that door any second now…

Her coming home…

Oops. Looks like I missed the glass again – reaching for another paper towel and finding none left. Whatever – this shirt will do just fine. I caught the fading sound of a cop speeding down the highway after someone – freaking idiots…

I remembered the sirens. The wailing like the grieving dead come to tell me of their deep, rending sympathies and warnings. It wasn’t an annoying sound this time to be tuned out…no this time it FELT different. But that cold, hard logic got the best of me and I shrugged it off – after all I lived down the street from the damned fire station! And sat back down at the computer…it wasn’t until later that night that I would get the phone call. That a part of me would fade into the shadows, leaving a hole inside.

A hole that maybe, just maybe, one more drink could fill…

 
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Beauty
Define beautiful:
Ideals and expectations,
Or imperfections.

She Looked So Fine
Upon secrets
And lies
Was built commitment,
Their plague
Always
Hidden by kisses
In our once wide, open mouths
Of innocence.

Your concrete stick
Broke me, there was
No twist to try,
No call of freedom;
Yet through today’s gaze,
Yesterday’s shapes now have become
Rounded. Even smooth. And sometimes
Just heartbreakingly laughable
To this one life
Now
Ebbing
Away.

My finger
Remains unmoved
At my side,
My realization
Is now my cancer.