Creative writing, my take on the The Last of Us world.

Here is my creative writing piece for the blog thingy yesterday, done in about 5 minutes without stopping to think. Somehow it became 1st person. I’ve never actually played The Last of Us but here is my zombie-apocalypse-y creative writing piece. Each section is based on a word like sky, taste, light. My next task is to do a painting of it. 🙂

Sky is icy cold but there’s something wrong… why is it wrong? Colours awry? The sky is tainted by the bloodshed- there is no escape. But it looks beautiful. Beautifully wrong. Beautifully twisted.

The ground is smooth- scathingly so. The ice will cut; tiny cuts, millions of them, so don’t fall. The ground is terrifying. Through the haze of that blue, blue ice you can see the past. A boat trapped in an eternal fall. The curtain of frozen blood, making a theatre scene beneath your very feet. A trapped body seems to be bowing in a final farewell to the crowd.

Character. Me? I don’t know. I am everything I see, everything I do. Everything that is done to me. A spear of pine to my name, a shard of ice at it’s tip. It’s so cold. I need more woollens. I love the colours of all these ragtag patchwork blankets I huddle in. The blood from my ankle is tarnishing it though. Ah, that’s sad.

There is no smell. It’s too clean. Too fresh. I can imagine the smell of the city, over there in the distance. But here, the cold burns your nose and leaves nothing for you to breathe. It’s refreshing.

Everything feels too blue here. The harsh light from the sun hits the ice and shatters into a thousand pieces it seems, blinding me. The ice makes everything blue. I swear it glows.

I wish I could taste the air. I imagine it tastes like pine trees. There are so many here, all broken to rest at their final place. Licking that ice earlier was a bad idea. What did I think it would taste like? Rainbows? Now I can only taste the sharpness of my own blood where it stuck to me. Moron.

What is there to feel? I’ve always been alone, and the world needed to burn one day. Now I can start again. If I can fix my ankle. It hurts so. I need to sit down, actually. At least I don’t need frozen peas out here… hah. Oh God. Is that infected? But why? I was bit only an hour ago. Surely…? I’ll be ok. I’ll be ok.

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One thought on “Creative writing, my take on the The Last of Us world.

  1. anyalasagne says:

    Reblogged this on the attempted art of anya/aneurysm/lasagne and commented:

    A quick writing piece I was inspired to do at uni yesterday.


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