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Zombie Survivor Contest - Winners Announced!


luke314pi

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Here is my entire.

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“Leprechaun 7 the undead Gold”



From the Minds who brought you Leprechaun and Leprechaun 2
and Leprechaun 3 and Leprechaun 4: in space and Leprechaun 5: in the hood and Leprechaun
6: Back 2 the hood comes the latest in the franchise, as we follow the Leprechaun
(Warwick Davis) in search for his GOLD! And soon discovers things are not what
they seem when the dead rise.

Be prepared for a mind bitten movie extravaganza.

Plot: The Leprechaun has followed the trail of his Gold to a
small town, but what seems a nice quiet town quickly turns into a Zombie
infected land when the Leprechaun unearths an ancient pot of gold that has be
cursed now he has to team up with Tory Reding (Leprechaun) (Jennifer Aniston)
to fight the hordes of undead and break the cursed Gold.



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Hello, this is my first contest and this is my entry. I hope everyone enjoys!

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I hope it's okay if I did my entry like this Luke. I just wanted it to be like a computer kind of thing.

(P.s. The story is the first picture and the creation is the second picture. Oh and the word count is 903)

Edited by asu928
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Washington D.C.

2034

Well where do i start.The world is in chaos after the zombie apocalypse. People are being greedy with everything. Food, clothing, and medicine are under lock and key. It should be humans vs zombies but its not. No, the truth is it's human vs human and the zombies are just moving targets. Zombies at first were slow, dumb and really only out for themselves. We as humans are on equal grounds, at least we were. Watching zombies outside my window has been terrifying. They... they are communicating to each other, yes I said they found a way to communicate. The more fighting among humans, the more these things are learning, adapting. I saw one run. RUN! The zombies have always walked or..... or shuffled along, now they can F#%*&@ run.

Reading this you may wonder how i have survived. I've always been a shy, socially awkward teen/adult, happier behind my computer than outside. I was able to survive this long thanks to things I watched/played/read. When venturing outside I make it a habit to not stay long at any one place. My house is still "safe" for the time being. I fill my time, practicing shooting and have just recently starting writing my stories. Getting better at not wasting ammo and am hitting zombies with all the bullets I fire. Gotta be careful shooting guns outside, it calls to the other survivors. While that may sound like a good thing it's not.

Survivors are out for themselves. I have had a run in with two different small groups of these good natured people. With one a pretty girl distracted me while her partner got a cheap shot in. They beat me up and stole all the supplies i was carrying. Yes, the most I've been beaten up was by humans, like always. The second small group was three men. They kicked me out of the store I was "shopping" at. Told me I was no longer welcome. Took my training pistol and all the ammunition. On my way out they decided it would be funny to shoot me in the leg and see how far I could run before the zombies got me. Got home safely, the adrenaline blocked out the pain for hours.

The truth is do I want to keep living in this world. It really is me against the world, both humans and zombies. Anyone who is reading this should know I'm probably already dead. Wether i die from bandits, zombies, or I decided to end this torture you should know one thing. Check this room cause things that die don't stay dead anymore.

-Tyler Murphy

(Good luck to everyone.)

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THE FIRST

1


The last man on Earth was just bitten by a zombie.

His entire body winced as soon as the zombie sunk its teeth on his left shoulder. He forcefully pushed the zombie away and turned to face it. The zombie, intent on devouring human meat, lunged towards him. He quickly drew out his gun and fired. He hit the zombie on the stomach and it fell to the ground. It was still alive but the man knew it would die soon. He sat down on a rock next to the zombie and checked his shoulder. He pressed his right hand firmly on top of the wound to ease the pain. The irony of the situation made him smirk.

He was about to board his ship and leave the planet.

2


He named his ship after himself. It was his way of sticking it to what became of the world and that he is abandoning it to go somewhere else. He does not know whether there are other habitable planets but the risk of the unknown is better than the alternative - a certainty of life spent with flesh-eating monsters.

Upon checking his wounds, the man resigned to his situation and lay down. The creature beside him is now lifeless. In front of him, he could see his ship with the door ajar.


For the last few years or months (he can never be sure as sense of time has long since left him), he was scouring the ends of the Earth to look for uninfected humans. What he encountered was just hordes of zombies. He killed a lot of them as he was very skilled in handling weapons. Having all the time in the world with nothing to do and having no people to talk with, the man perfected his survival skills.

The pain is now starting to subside. The man closed his eyes and patiently waited.


He knows not what caused this apocalyptic event. The scientific community was divided whether it was a mutation caused by expansive nuclear testing of every United Continent, or excessive cosmic radiation bombarding the unprotected areas, those countries which were ignored by Global Enclosure Programs. The religious lot claimed it was God’s punishment, or some Biblical doomsday. The man knew better. He was certain God had no part in this. His idea was far less complicated – overpopulation.

By year 2050, everyone was surprised when population reached 100 billion. It was at the same time that oil reserves were practically exhausted. The exponential growth of people meant greater demand for energy and food. Resources quickly dwindled. Societies slowly crumbled and men resorted to base instincts in order to survive. At first, crime rate escalated. There was rampant thievery and everyone became a crook, even those who were supposed to uphold the law. Then, governments collapsed and people had to fend for themselves.

The man’s breathing became rhythmic and slow.

All animals became food for the starving masses. When all livestock disappeared, wild animals and domesticated pets followed suit. Then, the unconscionable happened – men rationalized eating babies. They considered babies less human because they lack self-awareness. This was the tipping point and there was no turning back. When all babies were gone, men started eating children. At first, parents captured other children to feed their families. Later, parents started butchering their own. Finally, men became monsters and started eating one another. This went on for several years until the cannibals transformed into something both more and less human. It could be due to the transmission of all types of virus and bacteria from consuming other living beings, or the nuclear radiation might have played a part after all. In the end, humans turned into zombies, hungry for another man’s flesh. They existed for the sole purpose of surviving, and that meant eating one another.


The Zombie Apocalypse did not begin with a plague making everyone a walking dead, nor was there any flash of light in the sky. It started from within.

There was no more pain. The man lay motionless.

After several minutes, he opened his eyes, checked his non-existent wound, stood up and entered his ship.


3

The healing process from a bite still hurts the man every time. Zombie bites were nothing though compared to being burned alive, when he was immolated by the Church for being a Knight Templar.

The man shut the door and went to the pantry to take nourishment before leaving. There was enough food for ten people to last a year. He had hoped to find any companion in his voyage. Unfortunately, he was alone. He is an immortal. Death could not touch him. The man has lived through all World Wars, Renaissance, Crusades and beyond. He met Albert Einstein, when he studied at Princeton. He sailed with Columbus and discovered the New World. He was nomadic in America when it was still his ‘Old World’. However, his memories are hazy. His brain is normal, and he cannot possibly remember thousand years of experience. His most distinct recollections are from recent past and the event that made him eternal.

He finished his meal and peered at the window. Zombies formed outside. Some were eating the zombie he killed earlier while others were banging his vessel.

The man approached his seat and started the engines. He honored his situation by remembering the most important event in his life, two thousand years ago.

He was not aware how it happened, but his sisters told him that he died, and a healer resurrected him after four days.

4

The ship lifted off.

The man grieves for the world, and is terrified of the perpetual future that awaits him. Immortality is not a blessing, but a curse. He was the first living dead, and the last human alive.


The zombies stared at the ship zooming towards the heavens. If they can still read, they would have learned the ship’s name painted on its side – LAZARUS.

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edit to add: The body of Minimate Jesus courtesy of Squall.

Edited by warburger
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So many awesome entries today! Who knew Daryl Dixon, Batman, Leprechaun, and Jesus would all have something in common. Phiz, I love that backpack. Is it from a GI Joe figure?

I present my survivor, Ziggy Stardust

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(WARNING: some language)

If you really want to know how our world got so fucked up, you gotta look to the one a few hundred million miles away. Yeah i'm talking about that cursed red planet, the one we were so fortunate to travel to. Life on Mars? Who woulda thought. You see, they sent the best of the best up there, to scoop up those microscopic horsemen of the apocalypse. We all spent years glued to our television sets, hoping to hear from Major Tom or one of his any less charismatic starman coworkers. But years passed and soon we all just got tired of waiting.



Until the long forgotten ship entered the atmosphere and took out half of the UK.




They called it a freak accident, they said the engine failed upon entering Earth's orbit. We were supposed to believe what the papers said, but I didn't. The starmen were dead long before ship got anywhere near earth, and it was the spiders from Mars that killed them. The same spiders that soon after spread throughout all of Europe in a matter of days.

If those damned things got under your skin, soon you became violent, irrational, and then... you were theirs. I figure they get nice and cozy in your brain. And those tiny fucks didn't mess around. I witnessed the infected literally taking bites out of other people. If they didn't change you, just the sight of them would change...something in you.



The Americans thought they were safe. They thought the infection could be contained, and that the precious miles of water separating them would actually do a damn thing. But all it took was one jackass who thought they'd get away from it all. Must've been a private plane because airlines where shut down. Maybe he sailed his poor ass here. It really didn't matter because before anyone knew the entire east coast was infected. So what did they do? Called pest control. And it actually worked!



Yeah fucking right.


Sure they spiders from mars got cooked by a nice hot nuclear bomb, but so did our cities. Plus the spiders already did too much. Even with the bombs, we've still got thousands of the mindless savages the spiders created. Talk about putting out fire with gasoline. There was no going back, our world had ended, and all that was left was a desolate wasteland full of fear and terror.



But I get by alright.



I'm Ziggy Stardust and I'm nothing but a glorified exterminator. Killing spiders is all I know now, but for some strange reason, I'm alright with that. Sure I miss the remnants of the old world like my closet full of clothes or my kick-ass record collection. But for some strange reason where everyone and everything i've ever
known has perished, I'm thriving.


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Thanks for the compliment Bob! This isn't a tit-for-tat, but your story was the first one I finished reading. Very engaging.

There are lots of great stories here, I will sit down this weekend and read them all. Oh, and great customs too... :)

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Cutting it close, but here's my entry. The story's been written in the style of a children's picture book.

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To the people of the small community of Ghost Lake, Ontario the terror of Zombie Day, as the media called it, seemed remote. It was the middle of winter with record breaking snowfall. No zombies were ever going to make it that far north.


So they continued with their lives and watched the bulletins on how to survive Zombie Day and the resulting panic in other cities. Although in Toronto it was more to do with getting 20 cm of snow.

Then, one morning Lisa came downstairs to discover her family listening to the local news. Zombies had somehow arrived in Ghost
Lake and everyone was advised to stay away from them.

For the next few days people kept away from the Zombies, which was made easier as the zombies had difficulty moving through knee-high
snow.

Lisa noticed that although they shambled and groaned, these zombies didn’t appear to be trying to eat anyone. This was not proper zombie behaviour, according to the media and government warnings.

So she began to follow them and see what they were doing.

She discovered that they always went to the lake which was frozen solid. The zombies would glide somewhat gracefully over the frozen water and when she saw two zombies holding branches and trying to hit a pinecone around she had an idea.

Rushing back home Lisa called her friends and told them her idea. Although it took a lot of convincing, her friends agreed to help her.


The next day Lisa and her friends gathered at the lake, equipped with plastic hockey sticks and a puck. Gathering her courage Lisa called out to the zombies and asked if they wanted to play hockey.


The zombies were delighted that people wanted to play with them and happily agreed and they played hockey for the rest of the winter.

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hello all

here is my entry...it is a little story and a roughly assembled comic page

thanks!

In the summer of 1978 the dead rattled, groaned, and burst forth from their collective graves and began devouring every man, woman, and child in sight. In this instance it may be considered a good thing that most of organized society does not consider the Hewitt family, man, woman, nor child especially their youngest. As this newly risen zombie horde grazes across the lone star state: law, order, and the rules of polite society degrade much like the soiled, rotted, flesh, of the recently revived. This growling, staggering, mass of decay and teeth ranges from house to house street to street until the only areas left are the outskirts both geographically and socially.


A lone figure in a sparse open field engages in an odd routine of maintenance and passion. File, Oil, Wipe, Rotate, Repeat…repetition…a careful repetition employing all of the figure’s concentration…was this madness ..?…someone trapped in a catatonic state doomed to this routine ..? No this was something solemn this was religion this was purpose. The way he cradled the saw was warm and yet sensual. The two ceased to be separate entities and became one as they sharpened and oiled blade after blade. This was an ageless love between man and machine, almost sexual maintenance if you will. To say the least this was a private moment, not to be shared with any, be they living or recently otherwise but as fate would have it a staggering mob of disjointed gore was making its way to the great creature and his long time love.


The hulking fly covered beast slowly raises its massive head, dull lifeless eyes peer through skin not his own yet as well worn and familiar as his own. With a single smooth motion the cord zips and the saw whines to life. The orchestra of popping and purring emitted by the saw brings electricity to the great beast’s body, he feels alive and filled with purpose. Smoke and oil fill the air as the dance begins and the leather faced one removes limb after limb from the staggering mass. The blackest of blood slings high in the air across an evil dark sky. The horizontal, the vertical, all of the beast’s movements seem choreographed as the cannibalistic lurch performs his moonlit ballet. Heads, hands, feet…. All reduced to glistening stumps with a flash of chrome. From the sea of expressionless zombified life a stink began to arise, you could almost swear that fear was now present. As the Moses of the two cycle engine parted the sea of sickness and decay from his sacred place of worship and debauchery a single thought occurs to him…. wherever shall I put all of this meat.


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Edited by tonystark
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Plague killed the world. Chaos ensued and the Zombie Apocalypse began. Family and friends gone, I
decided to go out with a bang. A blaze of glory on a hot summer day.



In the beginning, I knew the importance of caution. When the dead rise and walk the Earth, stay in your damned house. People panicked and died;
and came back. So I stayed home, my family never returned. After the initial poopstorm, the world became eerily
calm; aside from the endless wailing of the undead. No military reinforcements, no marauding militias; just zombies as far as the eye could see. When supplies
ran out, I borrowed from the neighbors. Soon I killed my first. It was Mrs. Whats-Her-Name from a few houses down. I’d thought I would’ve felt something,
but it was easy, like flicking off a light switch. Perched atop the roof of my parents’ home, day and night, weeks would go by without seeing a living soul. They all died.



Have you tried the Apocalypse diet? You eat only the essentials to survive and lose a ton of
weight. Push-ups and sit-ups became routine. What was once chunky became
slightly less chunky. No computer or TV, what else was I going to do? Other
than changing my slovenly appearance, the additional stamina was a nice
surprise. I was a bit more than fatigued when I ended Zombie Mrs. Whats-Her-Face
with my hammer. Soon I cleared much of my neighborhood. All zombies, no humans,
I felt alone. Boredom came, depression followed. When food ran out again, I
decided I’d had enough.



My chariot awaited, I filled it with what little supplies remained, then suited up. The neighborhood garages
provided a treasure trove of fine sporting goods and enough tools to start my
own hardware store. Until now, I used everything from screwdrivers to
Louisville Sluggers. I learned to use a bat in each hand and practiced swinging
them daily.



Outfitted in my most comfortable sneakers, cargo pants, hockey gloves and pads on my arms and chest.
A sweat stained hat shielded the blood from eyes, a red bandana kept the blood
from my mouth. My primary weapons were two aluminum Little League bats that I named
Meat and Potatoes. For dessert, I whipped up something really special. A long
wooden pole with a mini chainsaw duct-taped on the other end. And to wash it
all down, I prepared a number of Molotov cocktails.



American Prep, my old high school, was on the other side of the suburb. Seemed as good a place as any.
With my windows down, I maxed the stereo volume, inviting all to my retirement
party. I stressed the point by circling the school four times before entering
the parking lot. Nobody really wants to perform without a crowd.



Full tank of gas, I parked with my back to the school. An entrance ahead of me and another to my left began to
spill with the undead. I cleared a couple early birds and sat against my car.
1980’s arena rock blared just enough to mask the sounds the zombies made. Slowly but surely they came one by one.
Three, then twelve, then twenty. With Meat
and Potatoes, I cut them all down. The CD had begun its second play through
before I broke a sweat. Bodies piled and
I used them like barricades. Tower Defense with zombies worked for a while
until their numbers became too great. Maybe it was the smell or the fact that
I’d nearly fallen in guts fifty times, but I began to rethink what I had gotten
myself into.



My shoulders burned with pain as I repeatedly swung and smashed skulls. As they surrounded my car, I
climbed the hood and slipped into the sunroof. I turned the music off and
rocked back and forth as the zombies shook the car from all sides. I lit Molotovs one after another and enflamed
the surrounding horde in every direction.
Circled in fire I arose from the car with my chainsaw on a stick. I
wondered how many zombies I had killed. The day wasn’t over yet.



The smell was too much for me, I projectile puked on a real ugly, fire-damaged gal who seemed vaguely
familiar. The buzzing of the chainsaw became the mowing of dead flesh and bone.
Hands and mouths and brains. Crimson and orange splished and splashed. My arms
were tired, it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Then the
chainsaw stopped. I broke it off on one last swing, then used the pole for
poking them away. The zombies climbed on the car and I escaped back in through
the sunroof, which I immediately closed. My body convulsed as I worked my way
to the front seat. I popped in a new CD and began driving the worst parade
float you’ve ever imagined. Up and down, bodies popped like balloons.



At some point I hit a curb or a large pile of bodies, and my engine stopped. All my exits were covered
with zombies. The car’s windows were cracking as I waited for the inevitable.
Then through the howls of the undead I heard bullets; lots of bullets. I
covered my head as they whirred around me. Sniper shots took out the remaining
lurkers. I exited the car and was greeted by a group of survivors. A real
hardcore sort that appreciated my kind of personality. They watched me from the
trees and saved me. People actually came and saved me. This was a new world, a
new beginning. I wasn’t alone. You’re never alone.



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Voting time!

For this contest I won't be making a separate gallery thread, as everything is pretty well contained here.


Each ballot must list in order, the top three best entries in each category you feel are the most creative and well-made.

1.) Best Custom
2.) Second Best Custom
3.) Third Best Custom

1.) Best Story
2.) Second Best Story
3.) Third Best Story

Anyone can vote, even the participants.
If you are a participant, you cannot vote for your own entry.
The 10 point minus system will be used to calculate the results.
Points awarded will be as follows: 1st will get 10pts, 2nd will get 9pts, 3rd will get 8pts.
During the voting period, please send all ballots by PM to me.

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