Apocalypse

•Prologue

I ran through the forest, my pink sketchers kicking up dirt. The creeper tried dragging itself behind me as fast as I was running, and was catching up. A yelp escaped my mouth as it snapped its menacing teeth together, hands outstretched to grab me.

I tripped and my doll flew out of my hands into a nearby stream. I rushed over and picked the soggy lump of fabric and cotton up from the coursing water, the undercurrent almost taking me off my feet.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and thought it was Luther, hoping someone had found me. I turned and saw the bloody and mutilated zombie standing behind me instead, his face contorted into a grimace.

I paddled feverishly across the cold stream, the creeper wading in after me. My arms shook as they struggled to cling to the wet doll, my only source of comfort.

My mother says once I'm older, this will all be over. I can have a family of my own and we won't have to worry about creepers invading our house while we sleep. I held on to that small shred of hope, even if it wasn't much.

I crawled back up onto land and kept running deeper into the dark forest. The trees got denser, the air getting colder, sunlight no longer peeked through the canopies of the trees.

I didn't see a nearby rock in the way, I tripped and everything went black.