[Fiction Practice] Make Your Choice [Maturity: +18]

The home guarded by white picket fence would never be the same after that evening. They were just settling down for the evening. The daughter was sound asleep and the wife was reading in bed. The husband walked the torn, fleshy remains of that evening’s chicken dinner to the compost. As he turned to lock up the front gate and put the dogs to bed, he heard fierce barks, followed by whimpers, then unworldly moans.

Maturity Warning: Read With Caution

A horde of ominous figures loomed at the now bloodstained front gate.

They tore apart the innocent farm dogs. Their fleshy remains splattered the formerly-white picket fence. One almost managed to escape. It briefly trailed blood and guts before collapsing in agony.

These pale monsters were once the friendly neighbors just down the way.

The terrified man dropped the chicken scraps.
“Zombies?! How is this even possible?!”
Green words, highlighted in an unreal white light, floated above their heads:

“Yo, Khoutas.”
He heard a slightly digitized voice travel from behind him.

A figure now stood next to the compost pile.
“Sorry, did I startle you? I didn’t mean to. I’m here to help.”
It was a kid with a comical grimace.

“What the hell’s going on? Are those things- zombies- eating my dogs?!”

“Yeah, sorry, dramatic opening. This is a game. Your family’s the main cast.”
“What are you talkin’ about, boy?”
“This character skin is honestly just a joke. So those things…”

An oddly bright green gun materialized in front of the confused farmer.

“That’s your weapon. Type the letters floating above the head of the zombie you want to kill and when you spell it correctly, it will fire and kill the zombie.”

The strange gun was a shotgun with a keyboard molded into it.

“Honestly that’s it. So your choice is to either play the game and try to beat the Orthographimancer or forget all of this happened and stay in the tutorial level.”

The moaning continued. Were they approaching the house where his family slept?

“You have some time to practice how this game works before the zombies start attacking, and don’t worry, your family isn’t in this level so they won’t be killed off.”

“What the hell is going on? I oughta just go over there…”

The kid, who was certainly out of place in this world and almost appeared helpless on the surface, also had an unworldly word floating above his head.
That word: Killiam.

The acclimatized farmer picked up the weapon, which somehow strapped into position.

“Good. We were trying to solve the logistics of how the gun works so I’m glad that we were able to make that work for this build of the game.”

The moaning from the zombies grew louder. They stayed at the gate.

“So your choice here is to either type out those words over the heads of those zombies or type my name. Go ahead and start typing to make your choice.”

“Alright, I’ve made my choice.”


(Brainstorming with Choutas.) (Full drawing)

My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.