Important notes to the reader: Obviously this is a work of fiction, and yes, it involves a zombie apocalypse and Lolita. It is meant to be creepy, tongue~in~cheek comedy, and even weird. Basically, I am going out on a limb trying to create a dark world where a Lolita girl gets caught up in an unforgiving world where the dead walk the earth and petticoats deflating are the last thing to worry about. I don't know how long this story will be, it may be just a short story or it may continue, it all depends on how our desperate heroine fairs.
P.s. I got the idea from a very strange dream I had after watching a zombie flick before bed, obviously we know why I dreamt things that way, but the story takes only a few elements from it. Zombies. Lolita. You get the jist.
I appologise in advance if anyone's bloomers get in a bunch over this story. The story is all mine and the characters are all fictional, it is based of a recent dream I had, what that says about my character, I don't know...
So without further ado, I give you....
DON'T WAKE THE DEAD
Loli Adventures in Zombie♡Land
I never thought the world would ever end, nor did I ever imagine it to occur in the manner in which it did. I stand on a rooftop, chilled by the thought that this world, my world, is now over, those things below rule it now.
I fight the urge to cringe at what they're called, my geek levels raise and usually that worries me, but then I realize there is no longer anyone to poke fun at me. 'zombies...'
I don't say it out loud, I know better, now is not the time to speak even thinking about anything else is dangerous. In order to survive you need to keep your wits about you if you don't you learn quick or you die, you can bet your frilly bloomers on that.
Speaking of bloomers, mine are tattered at the ruffles; however, I am certain they have faired well for the moment. I look like a royal mess right now from my lacy adjustable head bow to my buttoned spat boots. I'm not covered in gore but I look the part of the helpless victem of a slasher flick. I'm still grateful they're flats, at this precise moment functional shoes will be worth their weight in bloomers if you ask me. Here, why don't you enjoy my flashback, while I try to look for the safest route off of here...
When the day all hell broke loose, I had been on my way to my apartment in the city from work at the bakery as clichéd as that was...is?...was. I think it safe to say clichés have no place in this world anymore. You might as well say we were going down the rabbit hole for all I care. Their was no chance for anyone of us on that bus and if I closed my eyes long enough I could still see the first undead climb the bus steps and walk past the que. Whoever it had been was male and tall and extremely pale. His eyes darted about with no focus and in every direction. To say truth, he merely looked sick and as if he was going to collapse, there was no discernible wounds, no chunk of flesh missing, he just looked sick was all. He sat down in the third row next to a man in a suit, I don't know if anyone paid anymore attention to him, everyone being as attached to equipment of some sort as we are. It wasn't until the sickly man started gagging and coughing that people began to worry.
I had been listening to music at the time, Take Me Away by Fefe Dobson, it had popped on right as he made his first gurgling hack and I remember tensing at the uncharacteristic hiccup. Now, that is the lullaby I will hear every time I go to close my eyes, I find it fitting.
I mean, it wasn't like I thought he would turn into a zombie or anything, my first instinct was to wonder if he was okay, in need of a hospital, and finally, if I would catch what he had, the zombie fear was after the first bite.
He had sputtered and gurgled until he had everyone's attention. People were getting up and trying to get off, hollering at the driver to let them off. I had been on the upper seats and was boxed in by the people getting up, I could neither help, nor escape, and neither could those nearby, everyone was rolling into a light panic. What happened next only caused everyone's internal alarms to blare.
It was as if everything slowed down and sped up all at once. The man in the suit tried to find a way around him calling for the driver to stop repeatedly pulling the stop chain all the while the driver is yelling for everyone to stop their yelling. As soon as we got off the highway the driver pulls the bus over and grunts as he gets up to yell at mr. suit and yell about bus policies to throw the man off. In the midst of this mr. sick was beginning to weave about and his complexion was only getting worse by the second.
The argument was escalating to the point where the bus driver was pushing mr. suit with his stubby hands when mr. sick weaved into mr. suit's seat and violently wretches all over him and his freshly pressed suit.
Gagging, mr. suit pushed mr. sick away into the driver who quickly threw him to the floor. This of course, started another round of yelling until mr. sick finally gets his zombie wits about him and takes a clean chunk out of bus drivers leg. The scream that ripped through the bus driver, it was like the gun shot to signal the end of everything heard around the world.
Not a single soul moved after the initial bite, every one just stayed frozen in a collective gasp. Once the driver fell to the floor everything seemed to speed up. The smell of the blood was overpowering people were pushing and banging on the glass and trying to push open the doors. The sick man got up again and took hold of some woman who tried to pass and took a chunk out of her stomach, pulling her down as she tried to pull away, falling on the people standing behind her.
There really wasn't a chance for any of us.
I vaguely remember shouting to anyone who could hear me to open the emergency windows but that was about it, I can't remember if anyone did so. Struggling with the latches, I could only look up and see what was happening around me. The driver had gotten up with the woman and the sick man. They grabbed at the nearest people, trapping them in their seats, crushing bone and cartilage in their jaws, rasping out this terrifying screech. With each glance their numbers seem to grow it was then that I felt a hand reach for me. I screamed. I remember jumping the railing and plowing my way out the door with a simple push, even in all my pettis and jumperskirt. It seemed like my basic instincts had already triggered my flight and I ran as fast as I could from the bus.
As I tried to get my bearings I realized then, that what happened on the bus was not an isolated incident when I heard the screams coming from all directions. I ran as fast as my boots could go and I drove all thoughts aside, I could feel the footfalls reverberate behind me and the chills running down my back only caused my feet to run faster. Who knew I was secretly an Olympic runner, let's hope I am a gold medalist as opposed to the runner~up who gets chewed out but the undead and hands~on audience.
Okay, so that was my ground zero experience, all in a nutshell and experienced in a blink of an eye. I don't have to write it down to remember and there is no one to report it too. If anyone else has survived, they won't give a damn about my experience, we are all more concerned about survival, but our ground zero experience is etched within us...haunting us like the horde of undead...
I digress, this whole time I've been up here, and you've been enjoying my memory, I've been looking for a safe route around this hell hole. I know, in zombie movies going up can be dangerous, I got that memo when this small batch followed me from the lobby. I thought it'd be safe inside, so not true, an infected inside wipes out the whole complex...I get chanced up and pray I don't get mauled on the next floor or loose steam, thank's cardio, I'm so glad I treat you mostly right with running every day for 30 minutes with stretches.
Anywho, I get up to the top and need, I thank poor maitenance that the door on the roof is unlocked and no one has bothered to escape up here. I'm not going to lock behind me, can't close the options to others or myself, but I need to strike gold, or something to strike with.
I spot a pile of tools over by the perimitor of the building, it's just left there, but I know better than to think someone just left everything for the taking to find safety. I try to be quiet, the squishies haven't made their appearance yet but I'm so not going to chance it. I do a quick look over my shoulder and go to check the bag.
Jumping back from the corner, I barely miss being nabbed by the squishy who had to have taken out his maitenance partner to lunch, fingers as pale as chalk. Fingers. He has fingers in his mouth?! I kick up (somehow!) a hacksaw from the mess on the floor and thankfully get coordinated enough to grab hold of the handle. I don't know if I can trust that it won't break but I chop at his face anyway, it holds for one.
I hear before my eyes register the first hit. When my brain catches up to my eyes, I see that I've landed a nice catch between his lips, causing him to loose his lunch and split his mouth a little further open. His wide, dead eyes never registered the pain, nor did he register shock, I kept hacking...
I don't want to do this. He was a human man. He worked on this building with a co~worker when there was work to be done. He once smiled at someone. Once had a family. I had a family.
I NEED TO FIND MY FAMILY!
I go numb as I chop away at my first zombie...
So that's it for tonight's late~night spookshow, I hope you've enjoyed my creepy ramblings for thes evening.