Creative Writing: The Carcass Virus

A black figure lies on the ground. Crimson liquid pools around him. It's glossy sheen traps the lights in the streets in its surface.

Everything you have heard about African Rabies is false. There is no cure and you are in danger. The people that are infected are dangerous and they are not human. The virus is spread through bites and the infected are killed by killing their brain. Leaders all over Wilson have risen to save the city from this infestation that is just outside our borders. This report laid out in the next couple of paragraphs will provide everything you need to prepare, protect, and preserve your life.

A couple of hours later I walked the trail towards the village jail, in hopes to see Jason. On rehash, he was one of the uppermost honest and friendly folks on the island, and the best shot as well. Though I always considered myself one of the best at spearfishing, Jason was better, and a steadier aim; he literally never missed a shot. His interests and passions had always been so forthright and reliable that in societal context, he took in everyone’s trust for granted. And, as it turned up, Duende resembled him in personality, although she exhibited the unworldliness befitting of a native who never left the islands. Unlike Jason, who was in the islands on vacation from the U.S., and had both his parents alive as well as siblings, Duende never

If you were asked to imagine a world without touch, could you? I’m sure I couldn’t have, not before 2035 when antibiotics became defunct that is. Since then no one has had any interaction with anyone or anything; we’re all far too worried about infection. Think about it: no hugs, no stroking your pets and definitely no going outside without all your protective clothing. And then a new virus gripped the earth, infecting all of us. We called it virus-T.

I hold all of her. I hold all of her memories, all of her aspirations, all of her secrets. I even hold what’s left of her physical being. I hold her remains, the remains of her deteriorating body, the remains of her withering memory, the remains of her. You see, she lives in me. She died in me. The rest of her life, will be spent inside of me with nothing to do but look back at her life and wonder. I often felt her wondering, not about herself, but those who surrounded her. She wondered about her kooky grandmother; how she went to the store everyday on her birthday and bought herself flowers, because she was her own person and would be damned if told otherwise. She thought about her father; how he was both a pessimist and naive all

A group of medical students awaited their guest lecturer at the local morgue. The man was from a foreign country and was the best cardiologist the world had ever seen. The doctor walked into the room at the morgue and a rush of fresh air swept through the room.

“Attention, shoppers, there is a traitor among you. One of the employees from Foodtopia, the rival grocery store, has infiltrated us. Anyone who apprehends this imposter will be rewarded with thirty dollars. Just a reminder: we are covering all exits with metal grates. Thank you and have a nice day.”

I woke up in an unfamiliar bed with a terrible headache and a burning throat. Glancing around the room I was in, I noticed my best friend Ada sitting on her boyfriend’s lap in a chair to the right of me.

The outcome seemed very crazy yet amazing at the same time. To summarize it, the beast lunged and with its dagger, tried to swipe at Eprius. But he dodged and struck first with a counter attack. He jabbed, stabbed, and swiped as much as his arms can take, until all he saw was a pile of dust in a robe. Then he noticed something moving in the robe. It seemed furry and cute, but with an evil twist. It turns out it was a kitten . But on the kittens back was a very small Viria. If you can use a microscope to see her, you would see a little person digging into the cats flesh. Viria was trying to penetrate the kitten so she can take over and spread her own kind of sickness. This sickness is what we know today as a Virus. It comes in different sizes

Last week, police discovered at least 20 partially decomposed bodies of migrants piled into an abandoned truck on the shoulder of an Austrian highway leaving the Hungarian border. "The state of the bodies made establishing the identity and exact number of dead migrants difficult, but the number could rise to 50," said Hans Peter Doskozil, Chief of Burgenland police. He also mentioned that the truck had Hungarian license plates. The police were given information that it was left on Wednesday and the back door was left open. They thought the truck had mechanical problems until they saw the blood dripping and the smell of rotting flesh. They will not disclose anymore information to the public. Not even any possible identities, whether any children

The graveyard was no more than a series of wooden crosses of random sizes stuck in the grassy loam. Mostly they were painted white and bore a scribbled name, perhaps a date. When the marker rotted the grave was re-used, by then the mourners had moved on with their lives and the body was thoroughly decomposed. There was no fence around it, no signage to give it a beautiful name, or any name at all. Even the locals just called it "the place on the hill." Often the wind blew across it harshly and it was utterly exposed to the storms that frequented the area. The living here could ill afford sentimentality for the dead and so though their grief was as keen as the folks in the big city, they buried themselves in the gritty business of staying alive

“Guess they’re just getting old,” Andrew said, worried that they might start asking questions that he would rather not answer.

She was not aware of where she was, or what she was there for. All she knew was her name, and the fact that she'd woken up in a field somewhere in Japan. Searching through the bag that was probably hers, she came upon several things. The one that confused her the most was the strange box filled with several syringes and a note that said "Antidote for the virus. - C" She studied the strange yellow liquid inside them. "Antidote...for what?" She wondered. "...And who is...C?"

he told his parents this story, and they were quite thrilled to see Jacques so excited about learning this. A few days later at dinner, “About 40,000 people were executed.” stated Jaques pa. “40,000 people were executed? What people? Why?” asked Jacquel curiously, as he walked into the kitchen. Jacques pa didn’t know Jacques had been standing there. He told Jacquel, “40,000 people were executed during the Reign of Terror.” Jacquel had no idea what the Reign of Terror was, so he was just about to ask when his pa interrupted, “The Reign of Terror was a time period when Maximilien Robespierre ruled. He was a dictator, which means that only he ruled, and only he made the decisions.” “So others didn't help him in making the decisions?” asked Jacquel.

Damien stepped forwards and pushed open the grandiose metal doors before their path. Said doors loudly screeched as they were unfolded to expose a thriving hub on the first floor. In what looked like a pre-war mall - there had been stores, carts, merchants, mercenaries, prostitutes, and many other forms moving among the linking corridors and lobbies. Commotion rung from wall to wall with sales pitches and the buzz of conversation. Wayward lived up to its name within the single building. The lobby and foundation of the town went on endlessly from the entrance. When both of them stepped in far enough, the sound of the doors closing behind them also brought forth the more romantic glow of the interior. No longer was the sun pouring down on their backs. Instead, what looked like Christmas lights had been strung up between the carts and store fronts dotted around the hall.