EXERCISE Genre Bender: Zombie Apocalypse

Discussion in 'INSPIRING MUSES' started by Cammytrice, May 20, 2012.

  1. The point of a genre-bender is to take a well know, genre related trope or story starter and transplant it into another genre.

    The Zombie Apocalypse

    "Within the past couple days or hours, something very strange has happened. Maybe the Synthetic Plague the government was working on got unleashed. Maybe a voodoo priest's spell went awry. Maybe an alien space probe broadcast a weird signal at the Earth, or fell to Earth and brought radiation with it. Maybe there's just no more room in Hell.

    Whatever the cause, the result is the same; the recently dead have risen, en masse, to feed on the living. With each victim they claim, their numbers swell, and no force on Earth can contain them. As society collapses, it's up to the Big Damn Heroes to fight their way to safety or keep shooting until things blow over.

    The Zombie Apocalypse has arrived."

    If you value your life, if you have any hope for survival, you will take this classic nightmare story theme and CHANGE IT! Change it to any other genre you want, just NO ZOMBIES! It's your only chance of escape!

    Save yourselves!
  2. TCHT....TCHT....TCHT.....TCHT.....

    Monotony. That's all reloading magazines was. Unadulterated monotony. It was even worse right after a fight, your adrenaline still pumping in your ears like a war drum and you have to stop everything and sit there... one by one... reloading.


    Chris looked around the torn up office space, not even wanting to count the number of dead. His forearm burned where deep scratches bled slowly into the ragged bandage tied around the wound. Rick was dead, that much was clear. He didn't know what happened to Tonya, but he assumed the worst. As he reloaded he kept a mental note of how much ammo he had left. The last .45 shell slid into one of the Glock's magazines, three in total. That was 39 rounds loaded, 40 if Chris kept one in the chamber. Another 14 rattled around in his pocket. He worried how long he could hold out. A sigh brought about by exhaustion and overwhelming odds escaped Chris' lips like a waterfall, at the end of the exhale he shakily managed to his feet. A quick check of Rick revealed he had no ammo, just a can of green beans and a knife worth salvaging. Both found their way into Chris' backpack. The office building had been a bad idea, but Tonya insisted, her mind had fantasized a bit too much about the gleaming candy and soda machines. Turned out to be a death trap.

    Breath came easier once he made it back outside, the confines of a building made for hellish fighting conditions. Sunlight streamed through the high rise buildings around him and the utter silence was a stark reminder that the city was a ghost town now. A few cars littered the streets, some looked as in they were in working order while others were simply burnt out husks. As silently as he could Chris walked down the deserted streets, stopping only when something caught his eye in a store window. This was his life now, always looking over his shoulder, always afraid of the inevitable, always looking for food and water. Subconsciously he scratched at his face's thick stubble, he never had liked facial hair and now it was something he couldn't control. A sudden scream startled Chris, the cry for help echoed around him. He struggled internally, the moral dilemma tearing at his mind. Help the person and most likely die, or run. Another scream made the decision for him and he began to jog towards the commotion. He rounded an alley way and ran down it, the cries growing louder but less frequent. Worry creased his brow as he picked up his speed. Another turn into a tighter alley and Chris was greeted with one of the last things he'd ever see. Hundreds of them, thousands even. Organized, waiting patiently for their turn at the woman. Chris let out a groan at the sight and began to step back, looking over his shoulder only to find hundreds more now blocking his way. The leader of the group stepped lightly forward with flashing eyes, staring Chris down, it's hackles raised high. A slow, menacing meow escaped it's horrible feline lips, clearly the signal to attack. Hundreds upon hundreds of kitties stormed Chris, leaping upon him and shredding every piece of skin they could find with their viciously sharp claws. The sharp retort of the pistol echoed off the alley walls, but only a few shots were fired before Chris was brought down. Truly, the end of the world.