Insignificant.
And yet, the sun still shone.
The world had ended and yet, the sun still shone. It showed no regard for the streets filled with the rusting wrecks of cars; for the rivers filled with bloated corpses; for the homes filled with suicides. Its rays illuminated the city that surrounded her, a crumbling mass of concrete echoing with the moans and groans of thousands starving. While everything died, the sun continued to thrive, not caring about the insignificant suffering below.
It certainly didn't care that her former boyfriend's body was lying in one of its beam, wet bones shining through the few strands of gore that hadn't yet been picked from him.
She had been staring at it from the window for two days now, only moving to get more water. She'd watched as the first Walkers had tentatively approached it, blank eyes huge and gaping in a twisted look of pleasure. Then, with a strangled collective cry, the flock had arrived, pouring from alleys and crevices and parked cars like rats from a sewer. They were packed together so tightly that she could no longer pick out individuals; all she saw was a plethora of limbs and heads, reaching and clawing and biting each other in a desperate attempt to reach the still warm body before them. It was systemically torn apart, like a puzzle being disassembled. The skin she'd so envied for its natural glow was quickly masticated, along with his soft lips and jade green eyes and precious neck.
It must have been hours later when the mass finally retreated and she could pick out individual Walkers; a former businessman wearing a pricey suit shuffling back into a burned out sedan; a child, no older than five, pink bathrobe smeared with blood as she nibbled on what looked like a chunk of intestine. The street slowly emptied again until there were only two or three roaming, idly walking back and forth, caved in noses pointed up at the sky in an attempt to catch another scent of someone living.
It was only a matter of time before they caught her scent.
She was amazed that they'd survived as long as they had. When they first heard rumors that the world was going to hell in a hand basket, her boyfriend had went out, stocked up on canned goods and boarded the door to their apartment shut. At the time, she figured that he was just a bit paranoid but she went along with it; after all, the rumors were starting to make their way onto the evening news.
The end of the world came over night. One day, the army had controlled the city, setting up a perimeter and patrolling the streets in tanks. The next, after a nightmare of piercing shrieks and the wet sound of blood against pavement, the Walkers controlled it.
Their food had slowly run out, to the point where they could only consume one can between them per day. Her curvy frame had withered to nothing, leaving her arms skeletal twigs that matched the dead tree outside their window. His muscles had shrivelled up, leaving his skin oddly empty against his formerly well defined chest. They couldn't risk exercising or, indeed, even having sex; any Walkers in the hall outside might hear and start clawing their way in. All they could really do was read, sit and watch for other survivors.
There weren't any.
She'd woken up in the morning from a nightmare, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that he wasn't there beside her. He always waited for her to wake up, although she wasn't sure if this was some kind of romantic gesture or because there simply wasn't a point to being alone. Nonetheless, she had gone about her regular routine, putting her disgustingly greasy hair up so that she didn't have to feel it against her face. When she'd wandered out into the living room, it took an involuntary shiver to realize that the window was open and that he was outside, standing on top of the black cast iron railing that surrounded the balcony. His arms were outstretched, giving him better balance, and he was staring down into the streets.
She'd bumped the open door with her hip and he had fallen. That was it. That insignificant movement had caused him to twitch just slightly and send him towards the ground. She knew that once he hit the ground, he'd been dead; even from six stories up, she could see the fire disappear from his eyes. His limbs had twitched once and then stilled, leaving him as just as an empty corpse on the ground.
For the Walkers, the fall had left him as food.
She was out of food. He'd never told her just how desperate their situation was but when she'd opened the kitchen cupboards, there'd only been one measly can of beans left, covered in dust at the back corner. Eating it only caused her stomach more anguish and for the last day, its growls had been echoing around the apartment, breaking through the silence. The water was almost gone too; there was only maybe a cup full left at the bottom of the twenty litre jug.
There really was nothing left. No food, no water... no survivors. She was the last person on Earth that wasn't a Walker. There was nothing left.
Silently, she set down her glass and opened the door that led to the balcony. The sun felt warm against her skin, flooding her body with warmth she hadn't felt in two weeks. There were maybe a dozen Walkers on the street, moaning and shuffling, the sound of their feet dragging echoing around her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up onto the railing, directly above his body and merely stood there, eyes focused on the building opposite, a practical mirror image of her own. Below, she could hear one of the Walker's moans change pitch; she didn't have to look down to realize that they'd seen her. One of her feet shifted slightly, ready to step back down onto the safety of the balcony.
She never had that chance. Just as she had killed her boyfriend with such an insignificant movement, the wind killed her. The breeze was extremely light; barely there to be honest. But it had been enough. It had tickled her bare ankles and that light touch was enough to make her twitch. One moment, the railing had been underneath her naked feet. The next, it simply wasn't.
After that, she simply wasn't there.
And above, the sun still shone.
It certainly didn't care that her former boyfriend's body was lying in one of its beam, wet bones shining through the few strands of gore that hadn't yet been picked from him.
She had been staring at it from the window for two days now, only moving to get more water. She'd watched as the first Walkers had tentatively approached it, blank eyes huge and gaping in a twisted look of pleasure. Then, with a strangled collective cry, the flock had arrived, pouring from alleys and crevices and parked cars like rats from a sewer. They were packed together so tightly that she could no longer pick out individuals; all she saw was a plethora of limbs and heads, reaching and clawing and biting each other in a desperate attempt to reach the still warm body before them. It was systemically torn apart, like a puzzle being disassembled. The skin she'd so envied for its natural glow was quickly masticated, along with his soft lips and jade green eyes and precious neck.
It must have been hours later when the mass finally retreated and she could pick out individual Walkers; a former businessman wearing a pricey suit shuffling back into a burned out sedan; a child, no older than five, pink bathrobe smeared with blood as she nibbled on what looked like a chunk of intestine. The street slowly emptied again until there were only two or three roaming, idly walking back and forth, caved in noses pointed up at the sky in an attempt to catch another scent of someone living.
It was only a matter of time before they caught her scent.
She was amazed that they'd survived as long as they had. When they first heard rumors that the world was going to hell in a hand basket, her boyfriend had went out, stocked up on canned goods and boarded the door to their apartment shut. At the time, she figured that he was just a bit paranoid but she went along with it; after all, the rumors were starting to make their way onto the evening news.
The end of the world came over night. One day, the army had controlled the city, setting up a perimeter and patrolling the streets in tanks. The next, after a nightmare of piercing shrieks and the wet sound of blood against pavement, the Walkers controlled it.
Their food had slowly run out, to the point where they could only consume one can between them per day. Her curvy frame had withered to nothing, leaving her arms skeletal twigs that matched the dead tree outside their window. His muscles had shrivelled up, leaving his skin oddly empty against his formerly well defined chest. They couldn't risk exercising or, indeed, even having sex; any Walkers in the hall outside might hear and start clawing their way in. All they could really do was read, sit and watch for other survivors.
There weren't any.
She'd woken up in the morning from a nightmare, which wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that he wasn't there beside her. He always waited for her to wake up, although she wasn't sure if this was some kind of romantic gesture or because there simply wasn't a point to being alone. Nonetheless, she had gone about her regular routine, putting her disgustingly greasy hair up so that she didn't have to feel it against her face. When she'd wandered out into the living room, it took an involuntary shiver to realize that the window was open and that he was outside, standing on top of the black cast iron railing that surrounded the balcony. His arms were outstretched, giving him better balance, and he was staring down into the streets.
She'd bumped the open door with her hip and he had fallen. That was it. That insignificant movement had caused him to twitch just slightly and send him towards the ground. She knew that once he hit the ground, he'd been dead; even from six stories up, she could see the fire disappear from his eyes. His limbs had twitched once and then stilled, leaving him as just as an empty corpse on the ground.
For the Walkers, the fall had left him as food.
She was out of food. He'd never told her just how desperate their situation was but when she'd opened the kitchen cupboards, there'd only been one measly can of beans left, covered in dust at the back corner. Eating it only caused her stomach more anguish and for the last day, its growls had been echoing around the apartment, breaking through the silence. The water was almost gone too; there was only maybe a cup full left at the bottom of the twenty litre jug.
There really was nothing left. No food, no water... no survivors. She was the last person on Earth that wasn't a Walker. There was nothing left.
Silently, she set down her glass and opened the door that led to the balcony. The sun felt warm against her skin, flooding her body with warmth she hadn't felt in two weeks. There were maybe a dozen Walkers on the street, moaning and shuffling, the sound of their feet dragging echoing around her. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up onto the railing, directly above his body and merely stood there, eyes focused on the building opposite, a practical mirror image of her own. Below, she could hear one of the Walker's moans change pitch; she didn't have to look down to realize that they'd seen her. One of her feet shifted slightly, ready to step back down onto the safety of the balcony.
She never had that chance. Just as she had killed her boyfriend with such an insignificant movement, the wind killed her. The breeze was extremely light; barely there to be honest. But it had been enough. It had tickled her bare ankles and that light touch was enough to make her twitch. One moment, the railing had been underneath her naked feet. The next, it simply wasn't.
After that, she simply wasn't there.
And above, the sun still shone.
♠ ♠ ♠
This takes place in the Walking Dead universe but it never happened in the show. Hence, why they're called Walkers. It isn't meant to be fanfiction, however. This kind of just flowed out so it is what it is.xo.