I sit here in the dark, a pen light my only source of light, in this abandoned stock room, waiting. Waiting for the impending death that pound onto the double steel doors in front of me

I sit with a pen and paper in hand, writing. Vigorously writing down my autobiography as fast as possible so that one day, when the world is yet again inhabited by the living, that they will know of the horrible things that many of us had to go through to survive, and to keep the human race alive so that we could repopulate and eliminate the horror infested planet.

Many of us are not sure as to what awaits us after death. Many of the people that I have met say that they are going to go to hell for all the atrocities that they have committed. The act of stealing, sex without wedlock, and of course, murder. Many of us believe that the only thing that awaits us at the end of the white tunnel is the blistering heat, and licking flames of hell. But I disagree. We are the only ones that can give mankind the push out of despair, famine and loss of hope that has covered the skies black, but give all of us, all of the human race the hope that one day we will say, in one, strong and confident voice “we have survived, we have proven the devil wrong and sent his minions back to which they came, to rot and show that we can not be used as just mere play things by the gods!”

That is why I did what I did. The price of a small amount of souls is nothing compared to the billions that could bring us out of the shadows and be able to walk the daylight without fear, without doubt.

But, that is only in theory of course, for, like I had mentioned, use living, have lost that feeling of hope the same day the skies turned into a shade of crimson red and pit less black. The same day the gates to hell opened and the undead flowed out like an uncontrolled river. A river of flesh eating, rotting, and inhuman beings that would hold no regards to the young, the old, male, female, crippled, black, white. It was all the same to them. All of the above where made of flesh, and the undead loved flesh.

The day it all started was one that would be put into every history book known to man, every country, poor or rich. It didn’t matter now. We’re all equal. No more characterizing countries by their color, what their influences in the world were, or what rich minerals they possessed that they could sell off to the highest bidder.

Well, lets begin.