A sample from a short story i am writing about DayZ Epoch.

[topassassin]

          You walk across the open field. Fearing that your next step you could be zombie food for that one man who thinks that this one survivor must have something he needs. Though he is far away, He can see you clearly.Waiting, Watching every move you make. As if he was a predator, waiting for his time to strike his unsuspecting prey. A quick pull of the finger... That is all it would take. But, This man is not there this time. You continue peacefully though this field. Looking for any place you can settle down for the night. You spot a small farm house in the distance. The sun glows around it as if to be inviting you, promising safety. You enter the farm to find it is abandoned.. with only one large pile of hay to be resting in the corner. You smell old, possibly rotting remains of the man who once recited here. He left his possessions behind for any survivor who could be lucky enough to find him. Wrapping a large blanket around yourself you rest your head on the hay, waiting for the morning. A warm sensation of safety come over you. A feeling that you have not felt since before the incident.
           You wake to the sound of birds chirping. A sound you are not accustom to anymore. You rise and stretch as you breath deeply. This was the first real sleep you had in months. You look to the door and see the sun rays coming though it. You sit for a second watching the dust moving through the sun light. The dust was not disturbed. Just a light breeze whirls though the farm house making these specs dance in the sun light. You being walking slowly to the doorway, Enjoying the feeling of being safe for once in a long time. You peek out of the door way to see a glistening field and a warm Podagorsk sun rise. You realize after months of running, starving, and watching others die at your expense. That had finally found piece of heaven in this hell they call earth. It use to not be this way. There was a time where men and women lived happily together. Not worried of being killed or devoured while they slept. Only a few still remember this time.The children will worship this time. Pray for it.  Their word will be spoken, not written down. Writing was a unnecessary skill to teach a child. They had to learn to survive instead. It seemed that all of civilization's advances had suddenly seemed irrelevant. You hear your abdomen moan and return to your gear. You look through the sack for the beans you had collected off your deceased companion the night before.

[Kind-Sir]

** Moved to Off-Topic and title edited.

[Guavoumpemo]

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