Little Sparrow

Little Sparrow

Reads 118
Votes 29
Parts 3

Ongoing6m

Last published Thu, Oct 18, 2018

fear originalcharacters reddietofloat started9-24-18 zombieapocalypse

Time goes by slowly, her legs have fallen asleep from sitting on them, the small knife in her front pocket, forgotten. Her stormy grey eyes are so wide that they look like they'll pop out of their sockets. They burn terribly and begin watering. She's trying to control her breathing, its ragged and way too fast to be considered normal. She looked at the...the thing in the corner of the dark and damp room. Terror surged through her veins, piercing her like needles, causing her body to tremble.

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I gave up on this book sorry!!!! Prologue: The sky had always been a canvas of infinite shades; serene blues, fiery oranges, and dusky purples that whispered the passing of time. But tonight, it was an unforgiving black, thick and suffocating, as if the stars themselves had fled in terror. The wind, once a gentle lullaby, now carried with it the stench of decay, a bitter harbinger of the nightmare that had begun to unfold. It started as a whisper in the farthest corners of the earth, a murmur of sickness that no one paid much mind. A fever here, a violent cough there-symptoms too common to cause alarm. The news reports were fleeting, overshadowed by politics and celebrity scandals. But as the days turned into weeks, the whisper grew louder, more insistent. Hospitals overflowed, bodies piled up, and the once indifferent world began to notice. By then, it was too late. The first to rise were the ones who had died in fear, their final moments spent in frantic horror. The infection moved like wildfire, an unseen hand turning the once living into twisted mockeries of life. These creatures, driven by an insatiable hunger, spread chaos across the globe. Cities burned, governments crumbled, and humanity was brought to its knees. In the midst of this chaos, there were those who fought to survive, clinging to the remnants of a world that was slipping through their fingers. They would become the last hope, the final line between the living and the dead. But even they knew, deep down, that hope was a fragile thing. For the dead were rising, and the world as they knew it was over.

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