Sample Post from the Horror Genre this Month:
Reggie Fairfield posts in When the Dead Come Knocking
John had finally fallen asleep again, his head resting on Reggieís lap where she sat on the remnants of a couch in the lobby area of the abandoned gas station. He still wasn't over the loss of his grandmother. He and Rose had been close.
The station had been ransacked, register of course, little fridge emptied, soda and candy machines as wellóboth smashed open and cleaned outóbut at least it was shelter, and a place they could regroup. And from where she sat, she could see across an open field, and down the main street back toward the city out the front glass windows in case anything tried to surprise them. Any other night she would have been able to see the glow of the Sacramento skyline against the growing darkness of the sky, but that was no more. Power was gone. Phones were gone.
Even the water in the bashed in water cooler had been drained, she sighed, her spirits just as drained by the loss of what had always been taken for granted before now, stroking Johnís heated forehead, wishing she could get him something to drink.
Maybe something stronger for herself.
Reggie hadnít counted on losing her mother in all this, but she should have expected it sooner or later. Too bad it hadnít been Nick to get eaten, then as soon as the thought crossed her mind, she regretted the secret wish. She didnít want anyone to die, not like they were dying now, not really dying at all, but turned into something horrible and impossible. But it was something they all faced everyday. Nowhere was truly safe. Only to keep moving, be vigilant, ready to fight for survival was what one did now.
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