Gar Bageman
The Spirit of Rock 'n' Roll
I wasn't sure if I should post this here or in the off-topic section, but since it is tied to RE (albeit loosely), I figured this was a better place for it. I'm not sure how many parts it's going to be just yet, nor how long it will be between them, but I have a very rough outline for the whole shebang. I just have to 'fill in the blanks', so to speak. I do know that each will be short and digestible. Some familiar characters may show up, but I'm not sure yet... I think it might be better not to mess with them. Anyway, I hope you lot enjoy it!
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Part One: Happy Birthday, Mark!
"Mom, I am truly sorry..." the young man said as he lifted his trusty shovel over his head.
"...you belong to the Lord now."
Tears began to well as the words left his lips. He no longer believed that to be true, just like he no longer believed that the thing trapped before him was his mother, nor the things outside his neighbors. They each, like so many others in the city, had become one of those creatures. However, he drew a sort of strange, uneasy comfort from knowing that he should be the one to happen upon her. In the last couple of days, this wholly grotesque shovel had been nearly the only source of worldly comfort for 20-year-old Mark Addler. It was certainly a great credit to the fact that he was still breathing.
"MARK! WAIT!" a voice bellowed from behind.
"Do, Baddy, I'b doind this DOW!" he snapped back, now sobbing uncontrollably.
"I want to say goodbye too..." she cried softly. Mark lowered the shovel and attempted to regain his composure.
"Okay... *sniff* but you have to be quick. She could get loose and then I won't just be killing my mother today, I'll be killing my sister, too."
"I know." she replied. "I know..."
At 15, Madeline was the baby of the Addler family. Even before said family consisted of but two.
"Do you think one of those things got her?" she asked.
"No." Mark said, still forcing back the tears "There's no bite. I don't see a bite."
All she could do was nod as she turned to what used to be their mother.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Mamma." she said, kneeling down. "If I hadn't run off..."
"Don't... do that to yourself, Maddy." Mark ordered. "There's no way you could have known this would--"
"Don't you think I know that!? What the f*ck is going on here, Mark!?" she yelled. "She's f*cking dead, yet somefuckinghow we're sitting here talking to her. And she's f*cking moving!"
"She's not exactly dead, Maddy..." he shuffled a bit. "...she's just beyond saving."
Then, in one quick, violent motion, he ended his mother's suffering. One could never call Mark Addler a coward, but if they were to, he could always persuade them otherwise in a swift manner. This trait has come in very handy for him in the last few days and, however fortunately, will prove to define him time and again in the future.
"Goodbye, Mom." his sister sobbed. "Goodbye..."
"C'mon, Maddy. We have to go." Mark said, extending his hand to her. "It isn't safe here."
"Didn't you want to get Daddy's gun?"
"No way is that still here. This place looks to have been ransacked pretty thoroughly."
"Well, why did they leave her here... like this?" she cried, gesturing to the former Mrs. Addler.
"Maybe they didn't have the heart to kill her..." he paused, his eyes widening as he surveyed his increasingly dark surroundings. He pointed "...or maybe it's a warning."
Madeline turned to see what worried her brother so suddenly; There on the wall, written in the blood of God knows what, was the following message;
"If you are reading this, you have already made several grave errors in judgement."
"What... the... f*ck." Maddy muttered.
"I don't know, but I think we've stayed here long enough. This barricade won't hold them forever." Mark said, grabbing his sister's arm and heading for the back exit.
As the two of them entered the kitchen, they were taken aback. Adorning the room were scads of slowly deflating party balloons, streamers and various other colorful decorations. The former Mrs. Addler had a way of going overboard with these sorts of things, especially for her only baby boy. Remarkably, this room was mostly untouched, short of a lone paring knife missing from the cutlery set. On the center island sat a sealed card made out to Mark. In all of the commotion, the siblings completely forgot that it was his birthday just two days ago, when everything went to Hell. As he reached out for the card, the two of them heard the familiar clicking sound of a shotgun and a voice from the darkness.
"Happy Birthday, Mark..."
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Part One: Happy Birthday, Mark!
"Mom, I am truly sorry..." the young man said as he lifted his trusty shovel over his head.
"...you belong to the Lord now."
Tears began to well as the words left his lips. He no longer believed that to be true, just like he no longer believed that the thing trapped before him was his mother, nor the things outside his neighbors. They each, like so many others in the city, had become one of those creatures. However, he drew a sort of strange, uneasy comfort from knowing that he should be the one to happen upon her. In the last couple of days, this wholly grotesque shovel had been nearly the only source of worldly comfort for 20-year-old Mark Addler. It was certainly a great credit to the fact that he was still breathing.
"MARK! WAIT!" a voice bellowed from behind.
"Do, Baddy, I'b doind this DOW!" he snapped back, now sobbing uncontrollably.
"I want to say goodbye too..." she cried softly. Mark lowered the shovel and attempted to regain his composure.
"Okay... *sniff* but you have to be quick. She could get loose and then I won't just be killing my mother today, I'll be killing my sister, too."
"I know." she replied. "I know..."
At 15, Madeline was the baby of the Addler family. Even before said family consisted of but two.
"Do you think one of those things got her?" she asked.
"No." Mark said, still forcing back the tears "There's no bite. I don't see a bite."
All she could do was nod as she turned to what used to be their mother.
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Mamma." she said, kneeling down. "If I hadn't run off..."
"Don't... do that to yourself, Maddy." Mark ordered. "There's no way you could have known this would--"
"Don't you think I know that!? What the f*ck is going on here, Mark!?" she yelled. "She's f*cking dead, yet somefuckinghow we're sitting here talking to her. And she's f*cking moving!"
"She's not exactly dead, Maddy..." he shuffled a bit. "...she's just beyond saving."
Then, in one quick, violent motion, he ended his mother's suffering. One could never call Mark Addler a coward, but if they were to, he could always persuade them otherwise in a swift manner. This trait has come in very handy for him in the last few days and, however fortunately, will prove to define him time and again in the future.
"Goodbye, Mom." his sister sobbed. "Goodbye..."
"C'mon, Maddy. We have to go." Mark said, extending his hand to her. "It isn't safe here."
"Didn't you want to get Daddy's gun?"
"No way is that still here. This place looks to have been ransacked pretty thoroughly."
"Well, why did they leave her here... like this?" she cried, gesturing to the former Mrs. Addler.
"Maybe they didn't have the heart to kill her..." he paused, his eyes widening as he surveyed his increasingly dark surroundings. He pointed "...or maybe it's a warning."
Madeline turned to see what worried her brother so suddenly; There on the wall, written in the blood of God knows what, was the following message;
"If you are reading this, you have already made several grave errors in judgement."
"What... the... f*ck." Maddy muttered.
"I don't know, but I think we've stayed here long enough. This barricade won't hold them forever." Mark said, grabbing his sister's arm and heading for the back exit.
As the two of them entered the kitchen, they were taken aback. Adorning the room were scads of slowly deflating party balloons, streamers and various other colorful decorations. The former Mrs. Addler had a way of going overboard with these sorts of things, especially for her only baby boy. Remarkably, this room was mostly untouched, short of a lone paring knife missing from the cutlery set. On the center island sat a sealed card made out to Mark. In all of the commotion, the siblings completely forgot that it was his birthday just two days ago, when everything went to Hell. As he reached out for the card, the two of them heard the familiar clicking sound of a shotgun and a voice from the darkness.
"Happy Birthday, Mark..."
