I sit alone in my cabin, surrounded by the quiet of the forest. The solitude is my refuge, my sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world. I have always been someone who relishes in being alone, finding comfort in the silence and the stillness.
But lately, something has been stirring in the woods. A darkness has fallen upon this place, and it has awakened something I never thought possible. The dead have risen from their graves, their decaying bodies clawing their way out of the cold earth. They shuffle through the trees, their rotting flesh barely clinging to their bones.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. Perhaps it was just a trick of the mind, a figment of my overactive imagination. But then I saw them with my own eyes. Their sunken eyes stared blankly ahead, devoid of life or emotion. Their skin was a sickly gray, covered in patches of mold and decay. And their smell, a putrid stench that filled the air and made my stomach churn.
I tried to ignore them, to pretend they weren’t there. But they were persistent, relentless in their pursuit. They would gather outside my cabin, their hollow moans echoing through the trees. They knew I was inside, and they wanted me.
I barricaded myself inside, piling furniture against the doors and windows. But it was no use. They were relentless in their pursuit, their decaying hands clawing at the wood, their skeletal bodies slamming against the glass.
As the days turned into weeks, their numbers grew. More and more of them joined the horde, their ranks swelling with each passing day. The forest became a cacophony of moans and shuffling feet, a symphony of death that seemed to follow me everywhere.
But I refused to let fear consume me. I refused to let them take away my solitude. I sat in the corner of my cabin, clutching my shotgun, ready to defend myself if necessary. It was a constant battle of survival, a never-ending nightmare that played out day after day.
Every night, they would gather outside my cabin, their bony fingers scraping against the windowpanes, their empty eyes staring into mine. They wanted me to join them, to become one of them. But I would not give in. I would not surrender.
The nights were the worst. The darkness seemed to amplify their presence, making them more powerful, more dangerous. It was during those long, sleepless nights that I could hear their whispers, their voices echoing inside my head. They spoke of death and decay, of a world devoid of life. They promised me peace, an escape from the madness that surrounded me.
But I resisted their siren call. I clung to my sanity with every ounce of strength I had left. I knew that if I gave in, if I succumbed to their desires, I would lose myself forever.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The seasons changed, but the dead remained. They had become a permanent fixture in my life, a constant reminder of the fragility of existence.
But then, one day, something changed. The dead began to lose interest in me. They no longer gathered outside my cabin, no longer pounded on my door. It was as if they had found a new purpose, a new target.
I ventured outside cautiously, unsure of what I would find. And what I saw sent shivers down my spine. The dead had congregated in the center of the forest, forming a circle around a single figure.
It was a man, but not like any man I had ever seen before. His skin was pale and translucent, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. He stood tall and commanding, his presence radiating power.
I watched from a distance as he raised his hands, and the dead obeyed. They moved with purpose, their movements coordinated and synchronized. It was a horrifying sight, an army of the undead under the control of this supernatural being.
And then, with a single command, they dispersed. The dead scattered in all directions, disappearing into the forest. The man turned his gaze towards me, his eyes locking with mine. In that moment, I knew that my solitude was over.
Author: Opney. Illustrator: Dalli. Publisher: Cyber.
