#hiasta

Maya sifted through the boxes of crackers. The shelves were full, but most of the crackers were so far past their expiration date that they’d begun to turn to dust.

Maya laughed to herself. Expiration date; what a joke.

At the end of the world, no one payed attention to that sort of thing.

The ex-lone survivor tore open the last box. Inside were perfectly-formed, whole crackers.

Jackpot, she silently cheered. Maya shoved the box into her backpack and left the aisle.

From the other end of the store she heard crunches and the crackle of bags.

Rolling her eyes, she followed the sound. (It didn’t get past her that a week ago she’d have been quietly searching for a backdoor at those sounds)

“What are you doing that requires you to make all that racket?”

She came around the corner and met the answer in the form of David with an arm full of potato chip bags. The ex-zombie had a handful of golden, fried slices halfway to his lips with a guilty look in his eyes.

“I was just testing them.”

Maya rolled her eyes and snatched a few bags from the shelf, a long-suffering smile on her face.

“Come on; I think we’ve found everything edible.”

The boy began to follow. He still limped, dragging his right leg along, and he still had patches of half-healed skin but he was the embodiment of hope.

(Even if he did have chip crumbs on his face.)

Hey, so since yesterday was my birthday, I realized I probably needed to reintroduce myself.

My name’s Valeska, I’m 23 years old, and I’ve been writing since I was 6.

I write mostly fantasy and supernatural horror, but I delve into children’s fiction every once in a while. (Usually with a twist on the earlier mentioned genres)

I never write romance because *waves vaguely* ace/aro-spec, and that’s just awkward for everyone, but I did try it once for this prompt and it turned out amazingly???

Last year, I self-published two books (which can be found on the Published Works tab on my blog) and you can find all of my Short Stories under the tab or on the master post. (Warning: Those have a habit of creeping people out)

The Last Apostle is Christian Fiction about Matthias, Judas’ replacement. (As shown in Acts 2)

Children of Misfortune is a politically-charged fantasy following four outcasts as they try to stop a brewing civil war between the “pure” and the “impure” races of their nation. (Sound familiar?)

My current WIPs are a little complicated and I really need to make WIP pages for them, but:

Delaying the Darkness is a supernatural horror about a small town coroner who gets dragged into a life-or-death struggle with a mythical creature out to kill her best friend... Then she becomes a target.

The Soldiers of Dusk series follows Zuri Attah, a young werewolf, who is thrust into a secret war that she had no idea was being fought when her parents die. She’s rescued by a rag-tag group of teenaged creatures that, just to name a few, include a kappa, a ghoul, a yeti, and an actual jinn. This will be a 3-book series by the end of it.

Crackles and pops from the fire were the only sounds to break the silence. The wind whispered amongst the trees and across the closed door of the barn.

David sketched across from Maya, eyes trained intently on the pad of paper he had found in the house. The flickering light of the fire cast shadows across his face in an eerie display.

Maya nearly laughed when his tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth.

She focused back on her book. (Borrowed. The owner was still around… just not alive.) The irony of reading a zombie novel during a zombie apocalypse.

It made for a good comedy, though, and gave her some really interesting ideas.

Maya stopped and looked up. The door was shut and it was hard to hear anything over the wind and fire, but…

Another shuffle.

The survivor looked to David, his drawing forgotten and in his lap. The boy was hardly breathing.

A thump sounded right outside the door, making David jump.

“David,” the girl hissed. “Get the rope.”

The boy slid his sketchpad under a pile of nearby hay and pulled a coil of rope from the bench beside him.

Another thump, more insistent.

The two survivors readied themselves: David in front of the door, the end of the rope dangling with a weight tied to the end, and Maya ready to pull the sliding door open.

Another thud, this time rattling the door’s hinges.

“Ready?”

David nodded and begun swinging the weight in a wide circle.

Maya, taking a deep breath, pulled on the latch.

The wind blew through the streets, icy and biting. Snow fell heavily around them and reflected the little light there was left from the setting sun.

Delle clutched onto Maya’s arm so she wouldn’t lose track of her in the wind, David scouting ahead.

The boy ran up the steps of a small home and jimmied the lock, waving the girls in after him.

The two women trudged up the steps after their friend and stumbled inside.

David closed the door behind them and wielded his bat.

Maya lifted her shotgun aiming it into the darkened corners of the house. Her fingers were stiff from the cold.

After searching the house from top to bottom and ensuring that there wouldn’t be any surprises, they settled in the living room. Delle curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself and curling up in the corner.

David came back from the kitchen empty-handed.

Maya questioned him with her eyes, but he just shook his head. No dinner, then.

Her stomach growled but she ignored it. She hung up their coats and laid their hole-y gloves over the backs of chairs to dry, making a mental note to look through the house for new ones soon. She curled up on the floor with her ratty old blanket wrapped around her.

“Merry Christmas to us,” she whispered.

Maya rolled over, snuggling deeper into the sleeping bag’s warmth.

Wait…

She opened her eyes and scrambled from her cocoon. The sleeping bag was a light navy blue and appeared to be overstuffed and… was it waterproof?

Piled neatly in the doorframe was a pile of food. Cans of soup and two loaves of bread. A bag of different kinds of fresh fruit and packages of jerky and dried fruit. A whole sack of potatoes and a bottle of eggnog.

Maya looked to her friends with wide eyes.

A maroon bag was unzipped all the way and wrapped around Delle like a blanket.

David was wrapped in his own sleeping bag, this one a pine green with cats on it. She shook him awake.

“David. David!”

The boy blinked open his eyes, mumbling incoherently.

“Look,” Maya waved around the room.

The boy’s eyes widened and glittered like a little kid on Christmas morning.

There was a stack of logs by the empty fireplace with a box of matches on top.

Maya lost her breath for a moment when she looked over to where she’d hung the coats and gloves and saw three different coats and gloves that matched their sleeping bags. On the table was an array of survival gear; heavy duty wind-up flashlights that doubled as radios, a flare gun, cooking pots, water purifying tablets was just what she could identify from the living room. And on top of one of the coats was a foldable cane for Delle.

David tapped Delle’s covered shoulder, the woman snapping awake.

“Delle! Santa came!”

The older woman furrowed her brows as she felt the warm fabric of the sleeping bag around her.

“But,” she paused. “There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”

David started rambling about all the food and the gear as Maya started preparing the fire.

She looked out the window with a smile, actually enjoying the snow for once in a very long time.

David handed her a glass of the eggnog.

“Merry Christmas, Maya.”

“Merry Christmas, David.”

Maya was nearly thrown from her feet.

The door fell off of its track, forcing her to dive out of the way.

David swung the rope over Maya’s head, wrapping the weighted end like a bola around the zombie’s torso.

Maya stumbled to her feet and leapt on the tangled corpse, dragging it to the ground. It kicked and screamed.

Maya looked it over, trying to gauge its freshness. Seeing very little decay, she tore back its ratty sleeve and bit down hard.

The walking corpse threw her into David, knocking them both to the ground. David let go of the rope in order to try and catch Maya.

As the duo extricated themselves, the creature growled and rolled around.

Maya wiped the disgustingly rotten blood from her face.

After a few minutes the stiff’s growls turned into pained moans.

The woman turned her head back and forth, eyes unfocused.

“Who’s there?” She pulled at her bindings. “Where am I?”

David clambered to his feet and ran over to the woman.

“I am so sorry.”

Maya pulled a canteen out of her pack and approached the others.

“Here.” She placed the container in the woman’s hands.

She sniffed it, took a small sip, and began guzzling.

“You really don’t want to do that,” David warned, taking the water from her. “Trust me; take more than a couple of swallows and it all just comes back up later.”

The woman licked her lips.

“Thank you.”

Maya studied her. While she and David were in their late teens, the stranger had to be in her thirties. Her feet were bare, scratched and roughened from walking, and her eyes stayed blank and unfocused.

“What’s your name?”

“Delle.” The woman rubbed her hands together like they were cold.

“I’m Maya and this is David.”

“What happened?”

Maya opened her mouth to answer, but her friend beat her to it.

“You know all those movies and books about the zombie apocalypse?”

“Yes?”

“That happened.” David had a big ol’ grin on his face.

Maya shook her head and sat next to Delle.

“You were turned,” she said gently.

Delle swallowed.

“So they found a cure?”

Maya made an unsure noise.

“It’s more like we started biting back.”

David’s grin got even bigger before he launched into their story.

Maya ran through the old hallways like a bat out of hell. She ran from door to door, jiggling the knobs in desperation.

She finally found an unlocked room just as the snarls and groans reached the top of the stairs.

The terrified girl jammed a nearby chair under the knob with one hand while trying to block out the stench of rotted flesh with the other.

Backing against the far wall, she checked her gun to see how much ammo she had left: None.

She looked to the windows: Barred. Why was every window in this Nightmare Motel barred?

A panicky sort of acceptance washed over her. There was no way out.

Maya took a deep breath that was drowned out by the sounds of her own heartbeat and the splintering door in front of her.

She brandished her rifle like a club and waited.

The drums of her heart in her ear, she charged through the door as soon as the zombies broke it open wide enough.

The raging survivor swung her make-shift bludgeon at one’s head, swung again at another but was caught in their shredded hoodie. The weapon was torn from her hands as the creature stumbled and began tumbling down the stairs.

The third and final creature leapt at Maya. With no time to think, she grabbed its outstretched arm and brought it to her mouth, biting as viciously as she could. If she was going out, it would be by her own actions.

The creature fell back, holding its arm and writhing on the floor in the rictus of agony, while Maya swiped the gore from her chin.

The girl backed into the wall as the zombie cried out in… Was that pain?

After a few moments of unearthly, pained howls, the creature began panting.

As she looked on, the creature rolled over with a groan and sat up. His face was scarred, pock-marked from previous-rot-turned-healing-flesh.

The filthy man heaved out a grunt as he propped himself up on his arms.

“What happened? Where am I?”

Well. That just happened.

This is a short from my series How I Accidentally Survived the Apocalypse.

The wind blew through the streets, icy and biting. Snow fell heavily around them and reflected the little light there was left from the setting sun.

Delle clutched onto Maya’s arm so she wouldn’t lose track of her in the wind, David scouting ahead.

The boy ran up the steps of a small home and jimmied the lock, waving the girls in after him.

The two women trudged up the steps after their friend and stumbled inside.

David closed the door behind them and wielded his bat.

Maya lifted her shotgun aiming it into the darkened corners of the house. Her fingers were stiff from the cold.

After searching the house from top to bottom and ensuring that there wouldn’t be any surprises, they settled in the living room. Delle curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over herself and curling up in the corner.

David came back from the kitchen empty-handed.

Maya questioned him with her eyes, but he just shook his head. No dinner, then.

Her stomach growled but she ignored it. She hung up their coats and laid their hole-y gloves over the backs of chairs to dry, making a mental note to look through the house for new ones soon. She curled up on the floor with her ratty old blanket wrapped around her.

“Merry Christmas to us,” she whispered.

Maya rolled over, snuggling deeper into the sleeping bag’s warmth.

Wait…

She opened her eyes and scrambled from her cocoon. The sleeping bag was a light navy blue and appeared to be overstuffed and… was it waterproof?

Piled neatly in the doorframe was a pile of food. Cans of soup and two loaves of bread. A bag of different kinds of fresh fruit and packages of jerky and dried fruit. A whole sack of potatoes and a bottle of eggnog.

Maya looked to her friends with wide eyes.

A maroon bag was unzipped all the way and wrapped around Delle like a blanket.

David was wrapped in his own sleeping bag, this one a pine green with cats on it. She shook him awake.

“David. David!”

The boy blinked open his eyes, mumbling incoherently.

“Look,” Maya waved around the room.

The boy’s eyes widened and glittered like a little kid on Christmas morning.

There was a stack of logs by the empty fireplace with a box of matches on top.

Maya lost her breath for a moment when she looked over to where she’d hung the coats and gloves and saw three different coats and gloves that matched their sleeping bags. On the table was an array of survival gear; heavy duty wind-up flashlights that doubled as radios, a flare gun, cooking pots, water purifying tablets was just what she could identify from the living room. And on top of one of the coats was a foldable cane for Delle.

David tapped Delle’s covered shoulder, the woman snapping awake.

“Delle! Santa came!”

The older woman furrowed her brows as she felt the warm fabric of the sleeping bag around her.

“But,” she paused. “There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”

David started rambling about all the food and the gear as Maya started preparing the fire.

She looked out the window with a smile, actually enjoying the snow for once in a very long time.

David handed her a glass of the eggnog.

“Merry Christmas, Maya.”

“Merry Christmas, David.”

This time of year is especially hard on a lot of people.

In my town, we have these massive drives for families who can't afford to give their kids presents or buy a big Christmas dinner. My own family would've gone without (even losing a day of work) if it wasn't for these drives.

One of my favorite non-profits is this one called Feeding America. There's a branch of it in my town and they work all year to make sure that no one goes hungry. They're open three days of the week for people to come in and get groceries and are always taking volunteers.

They also have backpacks for school kids and provide many classes to help people get jobs or learn to cook or balance their budgets and so many other things.

If you want to learn more about how you can help (or find a branch near you) you can go here: https://www.feedingamerica.org/

Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, and Happy Kwanzaa.