Rise of The Unseen

On the Other Side of the Bridge

In a peaceful suburban neighborhood, there stood a charming two-story house, its exterior adorned with a blend of classic design and modern accents. It nestled comfortably among its neighbors, a quiet oasis amidst the hustle and bustle of everyday life. The sun's gentle rays bathed the house in a warm afternoon glow, casting a golden hue on the façade.

The boy's room was located on the first floor, a sanctuary of personal space. The door, slightly ajar, allowed a soft stream of light to filter into the room, painting patterns of warmth on the wooden floor. The walls were painted in a calming shade of white; however, there was one that stood out, painted black, invoking a sense of serenity that perfectly suited the occupant's desire for solitude.

A bunk bed with a neatly made bed occupied one corner of the room, its sheets crisp and inviting, a promise of comfort after a day's adventures in the world or perhaps in the realms of imagination. His walls were empty, showing that he didn't care much for that kind of stuff.

Under the bed, there was a desk, cluttered with papers, a computer, a water bottle, a lamp, a perfume, and various trinkets, occupying the wall next to the window. The view from this vantage point was serene, offering a glimpse of the tree-lined street below. A cozy chair, adorned with a throw blanket, sat at the desk, a silent invitation for contemplation or perhaps a creative burst.

The boy, nestled comfortably on his bed, his back propped up by a few pillows, was absorbed in the glowing screen of his smartphone. He absentmindedly scrolled through his favorite social media platform, tapping through a sea of posts, memes, and updates from friends and acquaintances. The soft glow of the screen cast an eerie light on his face, creating a stark contrast with the otherwise ordinary setting.

As he swiped through the content, one particular post caught his attention. It was a video shared by a friend, a seemingly innocuous clickbait title that piqued his curiosity. He tapped on it, expecting a typical viral clip, but what unfolded on the screen was anything but ordinary.

The video began with shaky footage, taken from a high-rise building, showing a chaotic scene below. People were running, screaming, and the streets were filled with panic. The camera zoomed in, revealing a few individuals stumbling in a disoriented manner, their clothes tattered, and their faces bearing a ghastly pallor. It was as if something was terribly wrong.

As the realization began to dawn on the boy, he scrolled through the comments frantically, seeking more information. His heart raced as he read posts from different sources, all reporting similar events—strange disturbances, attacks, and an inexplicable rise in violent incidents. The unsettling word began to echo through his mind: "zombies."

Fear gripped his heart as he continued to delve deeper into the posts. There were reports of citywide panic, tales of barricaded homes, and pleas for help from those trapped in the midst of the chaos. The sense of disbelief battled with the mounting evidence, and a knot formed in his stomach as he realized that this was no ordinary piece of viral content; it was a stark revelation of a world descending into madness.

With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone to call his mother and to seek out any information that could guide him through this newfound reality. His room, once a haven of comfort and connection, now felt like a fragile bubble in a world unraveling at the seams.

He waited as the phone rang for his mother to pick up. "Hello? Benny! Have you seen the news?" said his mom, apparently in a rush, probably running towards something, at least Benny hoped that she wasn't running from something.

"Yeah, mom! I have! What do we do? What should I do?! I'm-" he got cut off by himself because he was struggling to even out his breath. "Benny. It's okay, I need you to breathe for me, can you do that?" His mom asked, trying to stay calm to aid her son. "Yeah... Y-Yeah" He said as he took deep breaths. "That's my boy. Listen, I'm on my way to pick up your brother, my colleagues have told me that people are crossing the bridge to get to the football stadium, apparently they have some sort of center for the healthy. I need you to make sure every window is locked and the front door too" His mom said quickly as if she stopped talking she would forget some important piece of information.

"Ok... I can do that. What about dad? And where's-" He tried until he was interrupted.

"Your father isn't picking up the phone." She huffed. "As for your sister, she was on her way to the stadium, being close and all..." She finished.

"What am I supposed to do? Do I try to reach dad? Do I meet you somewhere? Should I take some things with me? Should I go to the neighbor's house?" He rambled, clearly nervous.

"Try to reach your dad, and for the love of God, don't leave the house! I'll go get you, I promise you." She ended clearly trying not to cry.

"I won't leave, mom, and I'll call dad." He said calmly after noticing his mother's behavior. "I love you."

"I love you too sweetheart! I got to go, your brother's at the gate" And then she hung up.

The boy's gaze shifted back to the screen, where updates continued to pour in, each one a reminder that the impossible had become a chilling reality. The moment he discovered the truth was etched in his memory—an ordinary boy, scrolling through social media, only to find that the world had been thrust into a zombie apocalypse, and he was now part of a fight for survival, where every decision mattered, and where the connections he had fostered might hold the key to his and others' safety.