Tag Archives: Alive


Eve came and sat with me by the fire tonight. She is a pretty girl, and now that she has washed the dried blood off her face and got a clean dress on I think she is cute. She held my hand and we stared into the flames.

There are so many voices in my head now. Eve said I would be able to control that soon. To turn off the ones I don’t want to hear, and to share only the thoughts and feelings I wanted to. We think-talk to each other, and we did this all through the night as I tried to block out the chattering of other voices.

The re-alivers continue to squirt the deaders. The deaders are controlled through talking to them in their heads, and no re-alivers have been eaten. Yet.

The crazy man stays in the building mixing his potions and the woman walks around commanding everyone with what to do. She looks over at Eve and I sometimes and just gives a small, pretty smile.

I told Eve about this book I write in. She said it was good that I have done it for so long to help me remember, but that I could stop now. The collective mind would be able to see into my memories if I ever wanted to share my story with anybody again.

Eve is a smart girl and I like her. We are very alike her and I.

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or the day after that, but I’ll keep living my today until tomorrow becomes my new today, then I’ll worry about that one.

Eve will help me. She says that I am her Adam, so that’s nice.

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Posted by on 20 March in Zombie Philes


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The re-alive man’s name is Bob Hoskins. He was a banker, which I think means he made banks. I asked him this and he said it was more likely that he broke banks. He said that most people before the Happening said that banker was spelt with a silent W. But I don’t know what this meant. I just smiled and left him to get better.
I can hear him out loud in my ears, but I think I also hear him inside my head too. It’s strange.

The woman gave the re-alive man a squirty bottle and when I went outside to poke the cooking fire back into life, I could see a long line of deaders, one at a time, walking up to the re-alive man and getting a squirt up the nose.

There are thousands and millions. The line goes as far as I can see, which isn’t very far because of all the trees and stuff in the way.

After getting squirted they go and lie down in an empty field away from the building. The field is nearly full of deaders lying there panting. It’s strange to see them so still, and not clawing and biting.

The next day Bob went and re-squirted all of the ones lying in the field. The queue of deaders waits patiently as there is no more room in the field.

The crazy man just keeps boiling up the stones, called pills, that I popped out of packets and fills more squirty bottles. He says we’ll need more when there are more re-alive around to use them on the never-ending line of deaders.

When the first ones to be squirted sat up again, the woman and Eve walked up to Bob and he squirted them. They are lying in the field now with the others, panting away.

It’s a weird feeling, but I think that I’m going to be very busy soon with all of the re-alivers around.

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Posted by on 17 March in Zombie Philes


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Today the deader, who is really re-alive again, stood up and started walking around the room. The crazy man said he couldn’t leave the room yet and passed a squirty bottle through the door and told the man to squirt the liquid up his nose again.

Eve and the woman keep watch of the re-alive man.

I just pop stones out of packets and cook food. Pigeons today.

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Posted by on 15 March in Zombie Philes


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It took 2 days, but the deader in the room is now sitting up, and his eyes are open, and he is croaking something, like he’s trying to talk.

The crazy man is excited and thinks it is a breakthrough. He has been working on the mixture and changing the amount of the white stones in the boiling water buckets.

I think, maybe, that the deader might be re-alive. I’m not sure, but the crazy man might have found what fixes the deaders and makes them better again.

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Posted by on 14 March in Zombie Philes


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The deader seems to be sitting up now. I heard the crazy man say he had snuck in during the night and gave him another squirt up the nose.

The deader is sitting up, leaning against the far wall. It’s hard to see him in the darkness without a light in the room. He seems to be just sitting there with his eyes closed and breathing fast.

The crazy man asked for more deaders to try it on, but the woman didn’t bring any more in. Her and Eve just stand at the window watching the deader.

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Posted by on 12 March in Zombie Philes


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I sat in the high-rise at the edge of the village today. At least that’s what we call it. Mrs B says high-rises back in the Before stretched up into the clouds they were so big. This one only goes up six floors, but it is high enough to get a view of what’s happening below.

I watched the paper and plastic bags flying about on the street way below. The garbage from Before never seems to go away. Mrs B says that plastic will be around long after everybody is gone, even the already dead.

Not so many deaders walk about down there anymore. Any that do, we pick them off. We have plenty of guns and bullets. One of the Smithys has started making more bullets now, but I think we still use them faster than he can make them. But we won’t run out for some time after a few Scav runs to army depots stocked us up.

Somebody fashioned silencers for most of our rifles out of tin cans and stuff. I don’t know how they work, but you can get three or four shots out at very low volume before they give up and stop working.

I’ll camp out up here tonight. Bobby James is with me, and we both prefer to be out away from the noisy crowds. He lost his whole family to the deaders. Walked into town on his own about a year ago. Everybody thought he was a deader too he was so dirty and just stumbling along. Nearly got himself shot until he started crying.
Me and Bobby don’t really talk much, but we have an understanding and mostly go wherever the other one leads.

Dark is falling now and I can’t see what my pencil is writing.

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Posted by on 2 December in Zombie Philes


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It has been almost 2 years since my dad wrote in this book.

It was Carla Bagshot who helped me to read and write better after my father died. She used to be a school teacher she told me. Knew lots more about the world in the Before. She taught me tons of things, and even helped me understand why my father had to die all that time ago.

He was a nice man, my father. I know he wasn’t my real father, but he was the man I grew up with. He taught me how to look after myself. How to shoot a gun. How to survive in the After.

They told me there was an accident. That a grenade went off and he was caught in the blast. His last moments as he stared up into the sky, his guts splayed out in a pink pool around him, as he gasped for air. They say his last word was Adam. Whether they say this for my sake or it’s true I don’t know. I like to believe them.

I know it was no accident. I was young at the time, but I knew what he was doing, and that it was for the good of all the survivors. He killed the head of the gang, and the rest soon followed as the villagers revolted against them and killed them all. He did what he had to for them, but mostly for me.

Mrs B taught me the word martyr. She says it comes from the Greek word for witness. She says it is somebody who dies for their beliefs.

I prefer the word saviour.

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Posted by on 30 November in Zombie Philes


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