982
The Attack Of The Undead
CornOnTheMob
:: It was a cold night, freezing, as John closed the door of his house and settled in for the evening. :: He grabbed a loaf of bread, chewing thoughfully as he watched the fire burn. Then it happened, it was just a sudden scream from nowhere, he looked through his window, and He saw them. :: There were hundreds of them, running through the streets, attacking people. he didn't recognise them at first, but they we're grey, red eyes, full of rage. John grabbed his dagger, eyeing the window suspiciously. He climbed to the second story of his home as he watched the Undead ravage the city below. :: He looked down from the second story of his home, hefting his dagger, watching them. They attacked house after house, dragging out victims and killing them, soulless eyes staring down at them. John shuddered. :: It was a while later then, the undead were still out there, going through house after hous e. He thought he was safe, but then they spotted him. :: They all suddenly ran to his door, breaking through with ease, he tried to hide hoping they wouldn't see, but they did. :: He knew his only hope was to escape. Luckily, his second floor had a door which he thought to barricade, so he had time, he broke his window, and jumped. :: He came to seconds after, the undead coming back to him, his legs were in agony, but he rna, going for the woods, hoping to live. He went for miles, never looking back, then he fell in a cave. :: He woke hours later, the dawn brilliantly coming up through the hole he fell in. He was in a cave, John noted, a luckily monsterless cave. He looked up through the ohle. It was a straight cliff up, no real handholds, his leg were sprained anyways. He knew his only way out was through the cave, he seemed to vaguely remember it , It must've been a cave he visited in years past. Long ago. He rubbed his legs a bit and wen t off.