The story of Desire

Flesh (1)

Floors Banging, distant shrieks of pain, a common thing when living in the suburbs of London, mainly disputes between families while children watched, the vague cream wallpaper of every apartment slowly peeling off, like one peels off their own skin as they malt from a summer's day, though no one gave a shit, nor will ever do in these parts, because of the influx of foreigners, as they'd panic from the chaos of Brexxit, though America was, usual, fuck yeah America, there was frequent "Outbreaks" of a killer flu, so to say, yet no one gave a damn as they'd treat it like they treated Ebola, knowing there'd be a cure, though small towns often went from vibrancy to dust, yet still, no one worries except Christians who over exaggerate everything, though this out break got worse and worse, guns firing, people dying, those dead walking once more, just to tear flesh and die once more, yet like Ebola, spreaded like a trend hits a secondary school, though no one cared unless someone died. Though many didn't care.

As the German shepherd leaped onto the bed to lick her face, she was abruptly awoken by her alarm, she woke up, holding her head as the dog barked, struggling to recover from the hangover from the previous night, she woke up as the shrieks stopped, the distant shouting stopped, yet her door was furiously being pounded by some couple having sex, or someone drunkly smashing it down. She'd get up turning off her alarm and gazing at the doorway to the front room, holding a steady stutter to the front door to see what it was, before noticing the groan of something, not living; nor drunk or wired with weed, cocaine, meth or heroine, yet somewhat off putting, she'd head for a knife, gaining her less drunk self back, slowly opening the door as she'd be in her "Fancy" clothing, yet still casual, she'd see the man as if he looked like a mixture of drunk and weed wired, even though she just held the knife to the floor, to then kick the man to the outer hallway to set him on his merry way, but before she could act that out, the man leaped at her, pinning her to the ground and knocking the knife out of her hand, trying to bite her neck. The man rather ferally bit at her as she'd hold him back by her left arm, as she'd try and reach the knife just out of arms reach, with or without a doubt, the shepherd came round, happily curious on what it was all about before noticing the man trying to bite his master, therefore he dashed over, biting him back and ripping his neck near enough into two, only leaving the head to twitch and moan before he'd return to her. She opened her eyes to him licking her face, as she'd slowly get up to close the door and barricade it with a nearby chair, knowing that this was the day of the reckoning, she'd go over to her closet, getting changed into an urban camouflaged combat pants, light jacket and a ski mask to hide most of her face, letting her breathe still, as she'd reach deep into the closet to take out a rapier and the sheathe, wrapping the strap over her head and onto her shoulder, taking out the rapier as the dog howled at the distant gunshots, though she was ready for an attack, she wasn't ready for fire arms. She'd jump across her bed to then leave the flat, breaking the chair with a simply kick, she'd go to the stairwell, knowing that common sense would be key in these situations.