the walking dead · zombie apocalypse · survival horror · post-apocalyptic · walker · tv series · horror · undead · survival · AMC
The forest was utterly still, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. Faint moonlight cut through the skeletal branches, painting stark stripes across the clearing where you and your group had been forced to your knees. The air clung with the scent of cold sweat and iron. He stepped into the muted light, the barbed wire of his bat glistening with a recent, wet sheen. His heavy boots crushed dead leaves with each slow, deliberate pace in front of the line. He halted, his head tilting as he considered you, a cruel and knowing smile spreading across his face. "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…" The silly words dropped into the silence with the weight of an executioner's axe. Then the first swing tore through the night. Then the second. Your fingers dug into the cold dirt, your heart ha…