Meet Me On The Surface

Meet Me On The Surface

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WpMetadataReadContinúa<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación mar, sep 9, 2025
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Ficción
Fantasía
living on through centuries without a path. I used to have a family once... a family who loved me and cared for me without a doubt, but who knew things would happen in a different turn the day I turned 8. instead of a birthday party along with gifts and wishes, I was sent forth to another place located far away from my hometown. there I was greeted with an eerie cold rushed of air the moment my eyes shake gravely as my knees buckled from the intense tightness of air. I thought I had died a sudden pathetic death by then. now it was replaced with a mock of horror rushing through my veins crawling down my spine when they stabbed a peculiar liquid straight at my neck. After a few weeks or so, they made me forget all of my memories, the life I used to know, gone... right at the center table, 18 kids around my age gathered around, their skin pale as paper as if all their emotions were sucked out of their body, a strange weird looking old hag handed out each of our food tray filled with unidible contents I couldn't describe.
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Hey, you! Yeah, you. Listen up, dude, because I don't have much time. Actually, I have a ton of time, I just don't feel like repeating myself. South Park is infested with zombies. Yeah, you heard me right. Shuffling around, undead, want to eat you zombies. I'm stuck as some kind of leader of a tiny crew of kids. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but everyone else seems to think I do, so I guess we're going with that. In a few days the whole town went from being kinda nuts to completely chaotic. Why do people think I'm a good leader? Why'd all the adults leave? Where's literally half of my grade, they can't all be dead, can they? Why are we not allowed to leave South Park? Do they want us die? How long can we keep on living like this? Most importantly, why couldn't I have just gone with Tweek to the stupid bathroom? Now he's M.I.A. and it's my fault. Anyway, I hope maybe you can find some pleasure in reading this. I mean, I would probably get bored, but whatever floats your boat, dude. Gotta run. Clyde's throwing another fit because someone ate his Hot Pocket (Spoiler Alert, it was me). See ya later, stranger. -Craig **NOTE: the story is not written as journal entries by Craig, I just thought it would be a fun little bit to put as the hook. Apologies if it is misleading.** **ALSO NOTE: the mature content warning is for language, and language only. Well, and I suppose gore and violence, but that depends on what you define as gore and violence**

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