Los Angeles Monologue

Taking a deep breath, I open the door, creaking as it pivots on its rusty hinges. I step inside carefully. Upon looking around, I gasp and realize everything was exactly the way Kaufman described it, except the eerie bust he spoke of. It was still there, put together and dusty. I examine all parts of the room, on the floor a small square of carpet was peeled back.

It walked over to my bed and brought me downstairs into the basement. The thing sat me down and tied me to a chair and brought out a large tray of tools, there is no escape. I felt my teeth being ripped out, it started with the back. During this process a sound alarm went off, the entity vanished, and security ran thro the doors.

My eyes suddenly protruded outwards as they locked onto a wide metal door – with rust covering its burnished doorknob. I assumed that this must’ve been the room for the servants. I reached for the corroded doorknob, only to tragically realise that it wasn’t turning. I felt the vigorous blood being pumped into my brain, as my veins struggled to remain intact.

His feet pounded down onto the blood-stained floor, his stomps ricocheting around the desolate hallway. All around him lights flared and sirens shrieked endlessly, a visual symphony to accompany his impending doom. Shadows encapsulated every part of the room, yet his eyes still darted around, attempting to find any sign of the incoming danger. He sprinted into the confined box of the elevator, the walls around him hugging him close, as if to say he would be safe here. He slammed his hands against the flickering buttons, drops of blood sliding down the metal as he punched it again and again.

I had destroyed the majestic carpet, it was shattered in pieces while I heard a mournful scream racing around the room, the master exasperatedly grabbed my leg and ruthlessly swung me across the room into the tomb as I went into survival mode. The tomb was an old filthy cistern, buried under the court with a slippery stairway leading up to the rusty iron door covered with vines. There was no light down there besides the sun rays that managed to brutally flash through the cracks and holes. The tomb had very little air, you nearly suffocated. It feels like someone is grabbing your throat and squeezing it.

There in the middle of the light, I saw a silhouette break the light and stand there looking over me. I couldn’t make out what it was. The closer I got, the more humanly that silhouette was. When I reached a step, that’s when I knew that she was looking the whole time. Her gaze penetrated my heart deepening the shock.

He takes my handcuffed hands and holds them over my head. I feel so helpless and vulnerable. I feel so alone. He lies on top of me. He is so heavy.

I sat in my mud hut, pondering the decisions I have made. I think I would have done it again; for her. It 's easy to say, I haven 't yet had to deal with the full consequences of my actions yet.

The once starry night now resembled a cluster of tiny white smudges engulfed by a grim lifeless mass. Just as my eyes were fully shut, I heard a distant yell, followed by a woman 's piercing shriek. My last thought, “What is happening to me.” “We need to evacuate the building.” “Wake the girl, we have to move, NOW.”

Under it, dozens of rotting mutilated corpses. “Jesus Christ!” I say as I fumble up to my feel to hug the wall of the hole. I hear a laugh coming from above, the same laugh it had. I tilt my head up to catch a glimpse of it.

So here you are, at the top of a mountain on an isolated island in the Pacific, with a camera-ready serial killer holding a machete inches from your face. Not how you thought this day would go. But what happened next was even less believable…

The door creaks open, I see them, two men… they look so tasty. They’re picking me up and dragging me down the hall. We finally stop, I hear another door open, I look up and the only thing in the room is a table tilted at a seventy-five degree angle. They are pinning me against the table, please speak up, you’re never this quiet.

Within seconds of the bite I could feel the poison slowly start to spread through my veins, it didn’t hurt, but it was ice cold. I could feel it course through my body, tingling as it inched closer towards my heart; feeling as I had always imagined being bitten by a rattle snake may feel. I hadn’t known what to expect, after all, no one had ever been bitten by a zombie and lived to tell the tale. I was scared but accepted my fate almost immediately – after all, I had survived unscathed in this cruel version of what the world once was, much longer than ever would have been imagined. The end is finally here, were my final thoughts before I collapsed, hitting the floor hard, relieved of the escape from this awful nightmare that had become my life.

I can see my breath when I breathe out. I can hear the snow crunching underneath my thick wool boots and fuzzy socks, and can hear the sound of my own breathing. The faint howling of the wind sounds like ghosts swarming the city on Halloween. I notice an old abandoned, dilapidated house far off in the distance, in desperate need for a new paint job. With it’s rickety old

I’m disappointed that mine was not the first face he saw when he woke, but he sees it now. His features register disbelief and something more intene that I cant quite place. Desire? Desperation? Surely both, he sweeps the doctors aside, leaps to his feet, and moves towards me.