![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shalanna[EDIT: I knew it. Y'all can't DO it without zombies. Well, it didn't work any better when I tried to do it on my BBS in 1982, either. It only works for some people.]
Yes, I think that would be fun. It probably won't go very far, as people will miss this post and/or will forget to come back to it, but let's start a story. I'll go first, and then you can continue it in comments.
Or not, whatever. . . .
ALLIANCES AND DALLIANCES
It was too quiet. I think the quiet was what finally woke me.
I fingered the motel room's brittle blinds and peeked out through a crack. An accusatory sky stared back: almost noon.
Why hadn't I awakened at my usual early hour? Where were the roosters? Where was all the traffic? I jerked the cord and the blind screeched up to reveal . . . nobody outside.
No one on the street.
Had the city been evacuated? My heart sped up, but I fought down the panic. It was probably just some attraction across the street--a fire that everybody ran to watch, or whatever.
I tugged at my restraints; my hands were immobile. A heavy clank answered me, just outside my peripheral vision.
My Superiors had forgotten to loosen things before . . . before what? Evacuating and leaving me alone here?
The clank told me that the pin was loose, though. With a few hard shake-rattle-rolls it fell out of the socket and my wrists came free. The bonds must've been tighter than usual, or else I had struggled in my sleep.
Rubbing my wrists together and flexing my chilled fingers, I headed for the door. But then I realized I'd have to put something else on. I wasn't street-legal. There were my regular clothes, still in the closet. I breathed a little easier. Especially after I peeled off the neoprene and got into regular street gear: jeans and a white tee, my white running shoes, a gimme cap to cover my dirty hair. In the pocket of my jeans my cell phone waited.
It still held a slight charge. But the service tower said NO SIGNAL.
I snatched open the room's door and stared out. Now I understood why people enjoyed having their minds dulled and their fight-or-flight reactions damped down by psychotropics.
No one was out on the street, nobody out on the motel's balconies. I grabbed up my gymbag, made a quick check that I hadn't left anything behind, and ran for the Camaro.
On the radio, static. I managed to tune in a Mexican AM station playing faint salsa. I started down the street cautiously, weaving between parked cars. I thought i saw someone in the window of one of the vacant houses, but it was just a cat.
NOW . . . you continue the story. NO ZOMBIES!!!!! The only rule is NO ZOMBIES!!!!
Yes, I think that would be fun. It probably won't go very far, as people will miss this post and/or will forget to come back to it, but let's start a story. I'll go first, and then you can continue it in comments.
Or not, whatever. . . .
It was too quiet. I think the quiet was what finally woke me.
I fingered the motel room's brittle blinds and peeked out through a crack. An accusatory sky stared back: almost noon.
Why hadn't I awakened at my usual early hour? Where were the roosters? Where was all the traffic? I jerked the cord and the blind screeched up to reveal . . . nobody outside.
No one on the street.
Had the city been evacuated? My heart sped up, but I fought down the panic. It was probably just some attraction across the street--a fire that everybody ran to watch, or whatever.
I tugged at my restraints; my hands were immobile. A heavy clank answered me, just outside my peripheral vision.
My Superiors had forgotten to loosen things before . . . before what? Evacuating and leaving me alone here?
The clank told me that the pin was loose, though. With a few hard shake-rattle-rolls it fell out of the socket and my wrists came free. The bonds must've been tighter than usual, or else I had struggled in my sleep.
Rubbing my wrists together and flexing my chilled fingers, I headed for the door. But then I realized I'd have to put something else on. I wasn't street-legal. There were my regular clothes, still in the closet. I breathed a little easier. Especially after I peeled off the neoprene and got into regular street gear: jeans and a white tee, my white running shoes, a gimme cap to cover my dirty hair. In the pocket of my jeans my cell phone waited.
It still held a slight charge. But the service tower said NO SIGNAL.
I snatched open the room's door and stared out. Now I understood why people enjoyed having their minds dulled and their fight-or-flight reactions damped down by psychotropics.
No one was out on the street, nobody out on the motel's balconies. I grabbed up my gymbag, made a quick check that I hadn't left anything behind, and ran for the Camaro.
On the radio, static. I managed to tune in a Mexican AM station playing faint salsa. I started down the street cautiously, weaving between parked cars. I thought i saw someone in the window of one of the vacant houses, but it was just a cat.
NOW . . . you continue the story. NO ZOMBIES!!!!! The only rule is NO ZOMBIES!!!!
