Monday, July 15, 2013

Time for another "Chain Story"!

Monday...most people hate them. I say we take back this Monday and make it freakin' amazing! How you grumble as you slip your foot into a sock with a hole at the big toe, go out to the kitchen and discover you forgot to get coffee, and then your car makes that cursed clicking sound...

I think it is time to play "Chain Story". So based on the above picture (which happens to be the image for the soon-to-be-released Audible version of Dead: The Ugly Beginning), let's create a story. I will post the finished results on Wednesday when I return with my long awaited Short Attention Span Theater. (Hint: I will be starting James N. Cook's Surviving the Dead (Book One): No Easy Hope.) So, the story begins...have fun!

The loud smack on the door caused Greg to look out the window. The pizza was already twenty minutes later than the bored sounding voice on the phone had promised. What him saw had him believing that it would not be showing up any time soon. 


  1. Maybe it’s a joke.
    But not even his brother Jason would go to such ends for a laugh. The shambling man approached the house across the freshly sodded lawn, pulling up clumps of expensive Kentucky Blue with his gimpy leg. He looked like he was hunting something, glancing left. Then right, but always moving closer to the front door.

    The possibility of a practical joke died when Greg saw the shambling man’s face. At best, the pizza he was waiting for covered the thing’s face. At worst, the red bits and spots that looked like decayed gaps in its sagging skin were exactly that.

    Closer it came, step by gimpy step. Could it smell him through the wall?

  2. Checking the locks to make sure they were secure, Greg couldn't believe it. He must be dreaming. Maybe he watched too much tv before bed. Glancing back through the curtains his breath hitched, the man had made it up the final stair. The monster, or whatever this man was, drew his hand down the door leaving a sopping mess of blood with each stroke.

    "Oh God, what the hell am I gonna do?" Greg started scanning for possible exits in his cabin. There was a back door, but there was a fence surrounding the property and it would only lead him back to that man.

  3. Well regardless of whether or not it can smell him, greg could certainly smell it. The rotten smell of death and and decay made gregs eyes water and cause bile to rise up in his throat. Thud thud thud. The meaty slap of the pounding on his door continued he only other noise a low moaning sound coming from the...person at the door and the sounds of sirens in the distance. Hmm maybe if I stay put... you know what screw that greg said to himself as je turned to run into his bed room. He flipped on the light and almost knocked the bedside lamo over wrenching his nightstand s drawer open. He reached in and pulled out his sig .40. Taking it out of the holster he chambered a round from the fully loaded magazine and flipped his jand grip laser on. Walking back into the front room greg yelled l youre messing wi4h the wrong guy asshole. He swiped his blinds away by the window nexr to the door and peered out... and right into the one good eye on this thing. The other eye hung from strands down his face. *crash* the window shattered inward as rhe thing pounded into it. Glass flew into gregs faces and hair. Fuck he said as he fell back. His vision blury from fig hting back to tears cleared to see this guy climbing awkwardly into the window. Fuck. No. Greg thought as he aimed his laser at ths things head and squeezed his trigger. Bam. Brains and dark matter splashed against the curtain and the rhing slumoed to the floor not moving. Fuck fuck fuck greg was saying while shaking like a lwaf from the adrenaline. I guess I can go out this way now he thought. I need to get to my car grab my phone and call the police.