I love to write stories myself and I was thinking one night in bed. I came up with an idea for a story and I started to make a draft. I want to know what your feeling is about it, before I move on.
(Voor degene die niet zo goed zijn met Engels kan ik het wel vertalen als ik genoeg reacties heb ontvangen.)
I hope you like it. I don’t have a introduction yet, but once I get further I will add one.
Enjoy, I hope.
When I walk into the room, the first thing I see is the blood sticking to the walls and the machines. The blood is old and it has turned brown already. The room looks old too. It has a style which is not used anymore. The paint is getting loose of the wall and pieces are missing. The windows are broken and scattered around the floor. The light is flickering and I am surprised to see that they still work. Normally, the people would have cut of the electricity, but it seems like they have skipped this building, for a lack of interest. The machines are old as well. They are rusty and look like the types operated by humans. The type of machines we only know from some stories that our great grandparents would have told to our grandparents. I softly chuckle in myself when I see the machines and quickly look around to see if It had followed me. I had ran into an abandoned workplace when I thought that It could not see me. I hope I am right and that It could not see me. I am looking for a hiding place when I notice a huge desk standing in a corner of the room. From where I am at, you can not look at the space where your feet are supposed to be in. I quickly decide that is the place I will hide until It gives up and leaves. I run to the desk and hide underneath the surface.
I hear It entering the building. I sharpen my ears and it seems like It is smashing tables out of its way so It can reach the stairs. I can hear Its claws clinging on the metal as It climbs them. My heart is racing when It enters the room. On these moments, I am so grateful that the It is blind and deaf and that it can only sense big motion. If I sit still, It will not be able to ‘see’ me and It will leave. It will go to another building to find its food there.
I am sitting underneath the desk for five more minutes when it is done searching the area and leaves. I keep still for five more minutes after It has left the building, just to be sure that It is away far enough to reach me. I stand on my feet and let my muscles relax after the time I had been hiding underneath the desk and take a good look around. The It has smashed the lights when It entered the building. I know from some people who survived the first blast how It was able to evolve.
The survivors have told me that It is not a monster, but a virus which changes ordinary people into monster like creatures. The only way to get infected yourself is if you get into contact with It and survive it for five minutes. After that, you will turn into one and you will not be yourself anymore. You will not think for yourself anymore, and you will turn into a kind of animal which only listens to his/her senses. There are no scientists to get a sample of the It so they can observe It. And for a lack of a better name, the surviving people have called the virus It.
I have not actually seen one myself, although they have followed me often enough. I always run away and hide from It, so I won’t turn into one myself. I shiver when I think about becoming an It myself. I know that my parents hid me in an ally when I was seven years old, and that they were a victim of the It. The It was hungry and so he did not let them live long enough to become one themselves.
In those situations, I am always grateful that I don’t have a brother or sister to take care of. My mother was pregnant when she hid me as a child, but they were both eaten.
Tears run down my face when I think about my parents.