Shivers 2

The Infection Out Of Space

Part I

It all began on that fateful summer night when the skies were painted with a myriad of colors, and a strange object made its appearance. It was mesmerizing to watch it make its journey across the night sky, its luminescence casting eerie shadows on the ground. The entire population of our small rural town bore witness as the object exploded with a resounding boom, fragments of glowing debris raining down upon our once-peaceful land. But little did we know that this cosmic event would be the harbinger of our own demise.

Over the next days, some of the townsfolk recovered bits and pieces of the strange, otherworldly substance. At first, curiosity prevailed as we inspected the chunks of rock and metal that had fallen from the firmament — but this curiosity quickly turned into something much more sinister.

The soil in which the foreign substance landed experienced a rapid change; the once rich, brown earth transformed into a sickly gray color, overtaken by a grotesque, alien fauna. The trees and plants closest to the impact sites took on new and twisted shapes, their branches and leaves contorting into unnatural forms.

As if that weren't enough, the insects and wildlife in the surrounding areas mutated into ghastly versions of themselves. Spiders spun webs of a dark, opaque substance that entrapped any creature or person unfortunate enough to stumble into them. Birds grew additional beaks, emanating wretched shrieks that struck fear into the hearts of even the bravest of men.

It wasn't long before the affliction spread to the people of the town. One by one, the residents began to fall ill, experiencing violent fits and unpredictable bouts of madness.

I, a humble farmer, watched helplessly as the world I once knew crumbled around me. First, it was my neighbor's wife who succumbed to the illness. Then it was the mayor, followed quickly by the school teacher. No one was spared, regardless of age or gender. Our town doctor attempted to help, but even he fell victim and was driven to the brink of insanity, rambling about dangerous "spores" in the air and desperate for any form of relief.

That was when the mutations began.

I remember vividly my encounter with the first transformed being. I was tending to the remaining fields that had somehow remained untouched by the inexplicable catastrophe. The sun began to descend towards the horizon, and I could hear the agitated whispers of some of my fellow townsfolk carrying on the wind — distorted voices that sent shivers down my spine.

"What's happening to us?" one woman cried. "My skin... it burns! It's like something's growing inside me!"

Panic began to set in, as neighbors turned against neighbors — no one trusted anyone anymore. And so, tensions rose and violence erupted, making our small slice of heaven into an absolute hell.

I retreated to my home, hoping to find solace in its familiar walls. But there, I found my beloved wife, one who I've known for decades, her body writhing in agony on the floor. Her once-beautiful face was contorted with monstrous features: oozing pustules covered her skin, and her limbs bent at unnatural angles.

Attempting to hold back the rising tide of bile in my throat, I raced to her side. She gazed at me momentarily with a mixture of pain and pleading in her eyes, before collapsing in my arms as if her bones had suddenly turned to liquid.

And then, she changed.

Her lungs rattled, issuing forth guttural, inhuman sounds. I staggered back, unable to comprehend the abomination that had become my wife. Repulsion and disbelief were momentarily replaced by the terrifying realization that, one after the other, the entire town was undergoing the same ghastly metamorphosis — becoming walking nightmares, driven by a primal need to consume the flesh of the living.

Part II

The once friendly and lively atmosphere of our town — a place where everybody knew everybody else and looked out for each other — turned dark and cold, as if the shadows of madness and death had eclipsed the sun. The days became a blur of fear, tension, and pent-up hostility.

The townsfolk, now transformed into dreadful creatures, roamed the empty streets, their shambling bodies wielding terrible, unnerving strength. Their hunger for human flesh drove them to break down doors and leap through shattered windows in search of their prey: us, the uninfected survivors.

I hid in the deepest recesses of my barn, buried under bales of hay, praying that the monsters would not find me. I wept for my friends, my family, my entire world laid to waste by an unseen force from beyond the stars.

Just as my heart threatened to give into despair, a ray of hope pierced the darkness: a small group of survivors, weary but still uninfected. Among them was the local priest, a man of unshakable faith despite witnessing the end of days firsthand.

"Mustering up all of our courage," he said to us, "we must fight this terrible fate. We cannot allow these unspeakable horrors to spread further, to conquer and decimate humankind."

His words cast a light in the darkness, sparking the flames of defiance in our desperate hearts.

To survive, we scavenged for food, fuel, and weapons. We fortified our homes, boarded up windows, and extinguished any light that could attract the attention of the nightmarish beings that pursued us relentlessly. Led by the priest, we recited the words of ancient prayers, hoping beyond hope that a merciful God would spare us from the apocalypse that had befallen our town.

Even in the face of overwhelming terror, we managed to cling onto our sanity; through our kinship and shared struggle for survival, our fear became tempered.

Weeks turned to months, and still the siege of our town continued. The monsters showed no signs of thinning in numbers, and every night, their grotesque cries echoed through the darkness. As food sources dwindled and injuries mounted, a new decision had to be made.

So, led by our priest, we decided our only option was to burn down our town — our own homes, our livelihoods, and memories — all in an attempt to purge the malignant infection that had plagued us.

Together, we ignited the ravenous flames, a symbolic act of cleansing and renewal. The fire consumed everything, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Finally, we left, a small band of survivors — battered, aching, and forever changed. Leaving behind the smoldering death of everything we cherished, we watched our town collapse under the weight of its own devastation.

"We must warn the others," the priest said, as we set off towards the closest city. "We must not let this terror spread."

And so, our journey began — a harrowing pilgrimage to save humanity from the otherworldly horrors that threatened to consume it whole. For we knew, as did the priest, that our town wouldn't be the only one to have been exposed to the deadly fragments of that fateful explosion; the pieces could be anywhere, just waiting to unleash chaos on unsuspecting victims.

For now though, we held onto our faith, our hope, and most of all, each other. And if there was one thing we were certain of, it was that we would never forget the horrors that had befallen our once idyllic, close-knit town.