Horror

Luke Luke awoke early the next morning. Early for him at least. His parents had already left for work. He forced himself to roll out of bed. He wanted to sleep longer, but he knew that if he did, he would be late for school. He got dressed, then took his time finding breakfast. He decided to have Wheat Crispy cereal with potato cakes. The crunchy meal sated his hunger, providing him energy for the day. After breakfast, he looked at the clock. He was late! He must’ve eaten longer than he thought.He dashed out the door, grabbing his book-bag on the way out. Since the schoolhouse was only about a block away from his house, he made it there in record time. He stopped to pant at the doors, as he had run the whole way. He hoped there wasn’t a replacement teacher today. His regular teacher, Miss Lavalina, had been talking of going on a vacation. If a replacement teacher was behind the doors he stood before, he was in trouble. Big time. Though he dreaded knowing for sure, he had to go inside. He opened the door slowly. Sure enough, a new teacher stood behind the desk at the front of the classroom. As he slipped inside, he had some hope that she wouldn’t notice he was late. But no luck. “Ah, Luke! How good of you to show up. Finally.” Some of the kids turned in their wooden seats and stared. A few snickered at him.Without responding, he walked over to his seat on the far left side of the room and sat. He didn’t know how this new teacher would punish, and the last thing he wanted was to stay after school. “Do you have a reason to be late?” “No, ma’am.” He expected the worst. After all, replacement teachers were cruel. At least in stories he’d heard. “I could have you stay after school today…” Luke was shattered. Now he might never get to go out with the other kids. Waiting for what he thought he knew was coming, he slouched down in his seat. But everybody loses track of time. Even me.” Suddenly he was happier than he had been the entire morning. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least the new schoolmaster was forgiving. Without saying another word of the matter, she turned and wrote something on the chalkboard behind her. When she stepped away, Luke was glad to see that the first subject was arithmetic. Though most dreaded it, he excelled at solving the equations as were written on the board. Today, luck was on his side. The one room schoolhouse wasn’t near large enough for children in three different grades. He sometimes grew impatient, as the teacher would take turns with grades, and he was left waiting for his next assignment while the grade below or above him was given theirs. Luke was in third grade. The second graders usually just left the third graders alone. Most of the fourth graders bullied or made fun of all those younger than themselves. Brock is a fourth grader. The rest of the day was mostly uneventful. It was raining during recess, so they had to stay inside. The lunch the teacher had brought made his stomach turn in knots. He couldn’t wait for the last bell to ring. Finally, it did. It happened at just the right time, too, as they were preparing for an English pop-quiz. Not waiting for the teacher to give him tons of homework, he dashed out the door, the other kids behind him. Jackson, the kid who had invited him on the fishing trip, stopped him at the road. He was about the same size as Luke, though he was a year older than him. He was known for being an excellent student. Some even said he had never gotten a B on a report card in his life. “You goin’ with us?” Luke nodded. “I just need to grab my pole from the house. I’ll meet ya at the lake!” He then jogged down the dirt road toward home, in an even better mood than he had been in the day before. Soon enough, he was approaching the lake. It was named Lake Tanou, but everybody called it “The lake” Because it was the only lake for miles around. He spotted Jackson and a few other kids sitting on the shore. From what he could tell, there was Brady, the class clown, Jordan, the best athlete in the school, and Mark, who was a straight-A student in almost every subject.As he approached them, he seen a brand new fishing pole laying on the ground next to Jackson. How did he afford that? He wondered. Drawing even closer, Luke realized that it wasn’t a regular cane pole like he had. It was the fancy kind, with a metallic reel that looked like it cost a fortune. He wanted to ask who owned it, but he decided against it. He dipped his bobber in the water. The wriggly worm on the hook at the end of his line was sure to attract some bait-fish, at least, but he hoped for the big one. Hours passed. It was almost night now, and he hadn’t got a single bite. Neither had any of his friends, either. “This is ridiculous!” Jackson exclaimed. “We should have at least gotten one fish by now.” Luke nodded in agreement. He then began to wrap his line around and around the end of the cane pole, slowly retrieving his bobber. All of the other kids besides him and Jackson had left a long time ago. Maybe he should’ve as well. Jackson stood and stretched. Then, he turned to look at the expensive fishing rod, still laying on the ground.Oh!” He exclaimed. Luke put down his pole. “What?” Jackson picked up the valuable piece of equipment and held it toward Luke, A smile on his face. “This is for me?!” Luke said excitedly. Jackson nodded. “This is the surprise I promised! I forgot to give it to you earlier.” Luke reached out and took his gift. “Thank you so much! I can’t thank you enough!” He then picked up his cane pole and dashed home to show his parents. But in the midst of such peace and happiness, neither of them could have imagined what was about to happen.Luke awoke to the sound of scratching. He sat up in bed, scanning the room for the cause of the sound. Seeing nothing unusual, he quietly got out of bed and walked over to the window. Then he halted. He had a thought. What if it was the zombies? He shook the possibility. It was probably something else. Peeking out the window, everything seemed normal. Suddenly, he heard the scratching again. It sounded like it was coming from the door. Looking out the window again, he thought he seen a flash of green. Nah, it couldn’t be… He stood, watching for a few more minutes. When nothing seemed to show itself, he silently crawled back into bed. Just when he was about to drift back to sleep, something banged at the door. He jumped out of bed this time, not caring if he woke his parents. He dashed to the window again, and his parents groggily awoke. “What’s going on?” Dad asked. Luke didn’t reply yet. He stared out the window, dreading what he saw. Dozens of zombies roamed through the village, attempting to break in the houses. One stood at their very door, banging on the door with all it had. “ZOMBIES ARE ATTACKING!” Luke screamed. His father leaped out from underneath the covers and dashed to the window. He gasped. “We weren’t ready yet!”He then snapped into action, practically flying toward the chest that sat on the left side of the room, near the door. He rummaged through it quickly, then pulled out an iron sword. “Luke, there is a loose plank in the far right corner. There is a secret room underneath it. Hide in there and don’t come out until I say it’s OK.” Luke was surprised that there was a secret room he didn’t know about. Everything in him wanted to do just that, hide away where he would be safe. But he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, leave his family in danger. “No. I’m fighting with you whether you want me to or not.” His father sighed. “Son, I can’t let you do this. It’s-” “Dad, I’m not a coward. And I don’t plan to be. Now hand me a sword.” After a few seconds, his father reluctantly handed him a stone sword from the chest. Wielding the weapon, Luke felt a surge of confidence. It was the first sword he had ever held. Though it was merely a stone tool, he didn’t care. As long as he was helping his family, he was content. The zombie continued furiously attacking the door. Eventually it would break through, but it would take some time. Mom had been preparing behind their backs. She stepped up with an enchanted bow in her hand, a stack of arrows in the other. Luke wondered what enchantments it had, but he didn’t get the chance to ask. The door burst open, and not one, but eight zombies poured through the opening. His dad fought with all he had, but four of the rotten monsters ganged up on him. Luke stood frozen with fear. He couldn’t move. A terrified expression covered his dad’s face. Then the zombies overcame him. That was the last thing Luke seen of Theo, his father. The zombies clawed at the last of him, and it was clear he was gone. Luke stood in shock. Was this real? He hoped not. He hoped it was a nightmare and that he would wake up any second. Was his dad really dead? Was this a dream? Was there something he could do? These questions swirled around in his head. He was still in shock when he seen the zombies disperse from where his father had been, and head toward mom. She was still attacking the four that had challenged her. With all eight upon her, she stood no chance. Luke couldn’t let both his parents die. He forced his body into action, swinging his stone sword at the closest threat. It missed, but it got the zombie’s attention. It moved toward him, and he swung his sword again. It hit this time, bringing the monster to its knees. This didn’t go unnoticed by the others. They turned and walked menacingly toward him, desiring revenge for the death of their friend. This brought most of the zombies away from his mom, but directed them to himself. He was soon surrounded by zombies. He saw arrows land on some, but they didn’t do much damage. Swinging his sword once more, he managed to bring two to their knees. The others growled in frustration. One punched him. Hard. Luke stumbled across the room, landing in the corner. He had been hit so hard he thought he might pass out at any moment. Delirious, he pried the loose floorboard his father had told him of up, revealing a small, dimly lit room below. The zombies were closing in. He pushed through the opening, falling into the hidden room. They were almost to the hole. Luke used the last of his energy to put the floorboard back in place. He then collapsed on the ground, and everything went black. Everything was blurry. Luke sat up and shook his head, clearing his vision. He looked at his surroundings. He was on a cold, dirt floor with a wooden roof. Then he remembered where he was. He also remembered the chaos that occurred some time ago. He stood and walked toward the loose plank in the ceiling. But before removing it, he listened for the groans of zombies. There was silence. Then he had a thought. What if this had all been a long dream, and he’d been sleep-walking and ended up in this secret room? But he shook the foolish idea in an instant. Removing the plank, he was greeted by the morning sun. He was about to climb out when he realized that he should have seen the ceiling, not the sun. What is going on here? He climbed out of the underground bunker and stood in amazement at what he saw. Where his house had once stood was now ruins. The roof lay collapsed on the ground, just inches away from sealing the hidden room. The majority of it was covered with ashes, evidence of a serious fire. There was only one portion of the wall left, and it was burned to a crisp. Luke fell to his knees in shock. Despair crept into his mind as he realized all he once knew was gone. His village, his friends, and even his parents were never to return. “WHY?!” He screamed. “WHY ME?!” He then burst into tears, not relenting for quite some time. His sobs eventually ceased when he noticed the sun setting. Rising to his feet, he wiped his tears on his tunic. The same tunic his mother had crafted him, he realized. At least he had something of value that survived the destruction. Suddenly, he was reminded that he needed to find shelter for the night. Well, at least I have that going for me. I already have a shelter. He hopped down into the secret room again, bringing the plank with him and sealing the entrance once more. I guess this will have to be my home until I find something better. There was a torch on the wall, which he hadn’t noticed before. He smiled at this, even though he’d just had a nervous breakdown. Darkness was one less thing he needed to worry about. Though he had been out of it for who knows how long, he was tired. He found a soft area on the dirt floor and closed his eyes. It was different than his nice, cozy bed, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about monsters breaking in his base. It seemed like forever, but at some point, he finally drifted off to sleep. He awoke several times during the night. Zombies constantly groaned, sending chills up his spine. Each time, however, he reminded himself that he was safe as long as he was inside his shelter and that they would never find him. At least he hoped. After what seemed like an endless night, he finally heard the zombies’ screams of pain as they burned in the sunlight. Only long after the cries of anguish did he dare to peek outside. He removed the floorboard again and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the sun high in the sky. Small piles of rotten flesh dotted the landscape of burned houses and charred trees. That’ll teach ’em! He crawled out of his hidey-hole with renewed confidence. Confidence was soon replaced with grief, however, as he looked at all the burned houses. Countless lives had been lost in the invasion, including his parent’s. Those who weren’t killed by the zombies were burned alive in their homes. It was horrifying to think about.He felt like having another nervous breakdown, but he controlled himself. He forced himself to think instead about what he needed to do to survive. He decided to search the village for anything useful that he could put to good use. Walking out of the rubble which had once been his house, he made his way down the old dusty road. He spotted several small farming plots, but most of which were destroyed by fire. There was a couple, however, that had a few lone stalks of unharmed wheat. These he harvested. Finally, he came to the schoolhouse. Countless memories had been made in this old place. It was still standing, miraculously, but damaged severely. He considered searching inside, but deemed it too dangerous. He didn’t want the roof to cave in on him. Walking a little farther, he came to the fletcher shop. It was in surprisingly good condition, save the burnt sign and busted windows. He then wondered if his mother was inside. Hopeful and also afraid of what he might see, he knocked at the door. “Mom?” There was no answer. He pulled open the door, stepping inside. Glass covered the floor near the windows, and the front counter was covered with scratches. Other than that, everything seemed normal. It was clear the zombies hadn’t cared too much about this building. “Mom? Are you in here?” Still no reply.Daring to go farther in, he stepped behind the counter and looked into the back room. An anvil sat in the corner, and barrels of who knows what lined the right wall. No one was in here. He was just not wanting to accept his mother’s death. A lone tear ran down his face. He quickly wiped it with his sleeve. He exited the store, being careful not to step on glass. He then looked toward the sun, which was still high, but slowly descending. Already?! Reluctantly, he headed back to his base. He would have to search the rest of the village tomorrow. After another sleepless night, he groggily peeked outside. The sun was still rising, so he would have more time to spend today than the last. His stomach growled. He realized he hadn’t eaten at all the previous day. He grabbed the wheat stalks he’d harvested yesterday from the corner and crawled outside. He had watched his mother craft bread before, and all she needed was three wheat stalks and a crafting table. But where could he find a table? Almost all buildings in a village had crafting tables. But most were now burnt to a crisp. He decided to check the blacksmith shop. He would enjoy seeing his father’s “Home away from home,” As he often called it anyway. Since his dad’s old shop was just a little farther than the fletcher shop, he made it there fairly quickly. Unfortunately, however, the entrance was blocked by debris. His stomach growled again. He needed food, and soon. I’ll just have to find another way. He spotted an open window on the side of the building. The only problem was that it was too high for him to reach. In desperation, he ran and leaped, barely grasping the window seal. He used all of his strength to pull himself up, his muscles straining. Finally, he was able to crawl inside. The one-room shop was a mess. Ash covered the floor and walls. The once hanging swords on the right wall were scattered everywhere. Even the front door was cracked in three places. It made him angry. Couldn’t the zombies leave just one building whole?Luckily, the crafting table still sat in the left corner. It was damaged, but he didn’t care. His urgency for food was growing. He began to feel faint. Hurry! He took the six stalks of wheat he’d gathered and laid them on the table. Suddenly, his hands began to move on their own, flying so fast they were a blur! His hands combined the wheat, then broke it in half. Then something happened, he wasn’t quite sure what, and his hands came to an abrupt halt, holding two perfect loaves of bread! Though this might seem odd to some, he was used to this. He’d crafted many things before, including his cane fishing pole. That reminded him- Did it survive the fire? He decided to search for it. After he ate, of course. After eating the newly-crafted bread, he walked toward the window with renewed energy. But before he crawled through, he noticed the scattered swords on the floor. Of course! Why didn’t I think of it before? He picked up a golden sword. Its shining blade made it seem magical, giving him hope. Wielding it, he took a practice swing. He expected it to be heavy, like the stone sword he’d once used, but instead, it was surprisingly light, probably due to it being made of gold. Now he would be able to defend himself. He climbed out of the window, his new weapon in hand. As he crawled outside, he saw it. Rain. If there was one thing he hated, besides zombies, it was rain. Why? Why not? Monsters could spawn in this weather, it made travel more difficult, and it got a person all wet. He groaned. Things were just starting to go well, too.Deciding that standing there wasn’t going to make it stop, he stepped out from underneath the awning of the shop and dashed toward home. Finally, he arrived at his base. He quickly took out the loose floorboard and dropped down, sword still in hand. Once the floorboard was back in place, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was always a good feeling to be home. He took off his wet tunic and tossed it in the corner. It would dry overnight. He also did the same with his boots, as well as his new sword. He then lied down, the cold dirt sending chills up his back. I’ll be glad when I can sleep on a bed again. Then he corrected himself. If. Closing his eyes, he listened to the rain beating against the roof. He was cold without his boots and tunic, but he tried to make the best of it. I never imagined sleeping on dirt. A tear ran down his face. Why me?! Resisting the urge to cry, he soon drifted off to sleep, leaving his bad day behind himHe stood outside, next to the village road, warming himself in the sun. Today’s weather was a stark contrast to yesterday’s, and he was glad of it. He decided after a while that he was wasting time. He needed to be doing something productive. Food was a major necessity right now, so he decided to find his cane pole and go fishing. Grilled fish was one of his favorite meals. Walking around the back of the house, he saw the cane pole laying on the ground next to the wall where he’d left it. But unfortunately, it was charred completely black. He picked it up, and it crumbled in his hands. So much for that. Then he noticed the brand new, metallic pole that Jackson had given him lying on the ground a few feet from where his cane pole sat. I’d forgotten all about this! He picked it up. It was in surprisingly good condition, besides some scratches on the rod. He was in luck. Smiling, he ran toward the lake. He could already taste a juicy, flame-grilled salmon. Soon enough, he reached the sandy bank. He was just about to cast it when he realized there wasn’t anything on the end of his line. No problem. He put the pole down and began searching the ground until he found what he was looking for. A stick. Breaking off a tiny piece, he tied it onto the end of his line. Then, he put his rod down again and lifted a large rock near him. A big, fat worm sat underneath it. He picked it up quickly, not allowing it to escape into the earth. He then pierced into it with the tiny nub of a stick on his line. He made sure it was secure, then cast it into the water. This was something his father had taught him. If the fish swallowed the bait, the twig would get stuck, allowing him to reel it in with a minimal chance of the fish escaping. He hoped it would work now. Not more than a few minutes later, he felt a tug. His pole bent down, and his line took off like an arrow. He had something bigReeling in as fast as he could, he saw his massive fish leap out of the water. It was the biggest salmon he’d ever seen! He reeled even faster. He couldn’t wait to see it up close. After what seemed like forever, he finally got it on the bank. Big was an understatement. It was humongous. He measured it with his pole. The length of the rod he knew was four feet, so he laid it next to the fish, and seeing it was exactly half the pole’s height, he determined the fish’s length was about two feet. Wow! Its lower body was gray transitioning into white, with pinkish-red spots running below its lateral line. The upper body was entirely green, with black speckles. The mouth of this beautiful fish appeared similar to the beak of a bird. Though he’d caught many of these before, it always amazed him how many different attributes this fish had. He pinned it down, preventing it from flopping back in the water. He then took a large rock and struck it in the head, knocking it unconscious. The first time he’d watched his father do it, he asked “Why did you do that?!” The answer had surprised him. “It’s better for the fish to get knocked out than to feel extreme pain as we filet it.” He cut the line with his teeth, then picked up the lifeless fish and his pole and headed home. Today is a good day. Once he got back to the old house, he put the fish down, removed the loose floorboard, and dropped down into the secret room. He grabbed the golden sword from the corner and climbed back outside.Using the blade, he cut deep into the skin of the fish, behind the pectoral fins. He then made another incision behind the anal fin. After doing so, he turned the blade ninety degrees inside the first cut and cut along the rib cage, connecting the two incisions. Now he took the thick piece of meat and laid it aside. Then he turned the fish over and did the same thing on the other side. It was a good thing his father had taught him this, also. After removing the second fillet, he took the remaining carcass and tossed it away from his house. A cat would eat it eventually. There were three village cats that he knew of, and all of them preferred to remain out of sight. Most of the time, anyway. They had to eat and drink, of course. Now the only thing left to do was to cook the fillets. Finding some sticks outside on the ground from nearby oak trees, he took and laid them in a crisscross pattern on the grass outside the house. Then he stood there, thinking of how to start a fire. Theo had shown him how to start one with a piece of flint and a steel ingot, but he didn’t have either one. He’d also learned to start one using a stick and a plank, but that would take a long time.But better late than never, he supposed. He removed the floorboard that hid his secret room and took it back to his pile of sticks. He then laid it down on the ground. Taking the largest and thickest stick from the pile, he forced its tip against the plank. Then, putting his hands around the top, he moved them back and forth, rapidly twisting the stick. After a few minutes of doing this without ceasing, he saw a tiny puff of smoke emerge from the small hole he’d drilled in the plank. It was working faster than expected. He kept twisting the stick, even though his arm muscles were tired. He knew that it wouldn’t be long until it would be ready to catch fire. A few seconds later, he finally removed the stick and laid it next to him. Then he shoved the plank underneath the pile of sticks and quickly began fanning it with his tunic.Before long, smoke began billowing from the plank. Then, a flame shot upward and the sticks caught fire. He knew that this small pile of twigs wouldn’t last long, so he threw the larger stick beside him into the fire. He didn’t need it to burn for long, just enough to cook his dinner, so he wasn’t worried about firewood. The sun was already setting. The night was quickly approaching, and he didn’t like it. Not at all. Relax. As long as I’m near the fire I’ll be safe. He breathed deeply, calming himself. Night made him especially nervous after what happened to the village. The thoughts of zombies ambushing him out in the open sent chills up his back. Once I eat I’ll feel better. He picked up the fillets and laid them close to the fire. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. His stomach growled loudly, urging him to eat. It had been a full day since he’d eaten. I’ve got to do something about this food problem. But he was too tired to do anything about it now. Sitting next to the fire, he thought of the future. He wondered if he would live like this for the rest of his life, working from sunrise to sunset trying to stay alive. No, he decided he wouldn’t live like this forever. But where could he go? He’d think about it in the morning. The fish would be done soon, and all he wanted to do at the moment was eat.He awoke to the sound of mooing. He crawled outside, and he was instantly greeted by the morning sun. He was thankful for another sunny day. The source of the sound, a cow, lazily strolled along the village road.