Rusted-Blade666

I speak to you now, trapped under the remains of a house. I can only type with on hand, the other dangles uselessly by my side. I can hear screams, or sirens or something but I'm not sure what it is...

They're dead. They're all dead and yet still moving. I can't believe it! Zombies! But we can't call them zombies now can we because that's politically incorrect. I think the right term is deathly challenged. It should be funny the way they stumble about like drunks but I'm afraid if I laugh they might find me so I must remain still.

But I will continue to type, because, you know...This is important.

The blood, oh God the blood. It's everywhere! It's my only form of sustenance as the fridge is malfunctioning (Technically it's on fire...) It's mostly water I suppose so it's good enough. And it's mine so I know where it's been.

Still I'm getting dizzy...

Cant tpe porpely..

.

Oh, the dizzy spells come and go. I black out every now and then, but it's a miracle cure for my insomnia so it's win-win! I don't know why I'm so tired I can't go anywhere, I'm stuck. Not so much between a rock and a hard place though, more like between the roof and the floor.

I hear voices again. What are they saying? I can't...

My name, they chant my name. But why?

There's something else, but I just can't hear it.

Wait!

It sounds like...

"Alex, you're drunk! Go home!"

Hmm, they may be right. I should stop watching zombie flicks under the influence and go home, after all isn't the world supposed to end tonight?