They Told Me I Was Special

A simple way to start an apocalypse.

October 12th, 2009 They told me I was special. All my life, I've been told, "You are special. You are special." I've been "A special little girl.", and "Someone very special", but nobody knew why I was special. They would tell me something they hardly knew, except a gut feeling. The orphanage, my parents, the scientists, all of them knew, in their gut, that I was special. None of them expected me to be this special.  It began in the orphanage. I was a cute little girl, with long, stringy, straight black hair and brown eyes. I had small dimples in my cheeks, adding to my look, and a lot of the other girls would pretend to give me makeovers, brushing my hair, using their hands to pat "Blush" onto my cheeks, and run their fingers along my eyelids for eyeshadow. After they gave me my daily makeover, I would run and play outside with the other boys and girls. We would usually play soccer, or basketball. Soccer was an easy game.  I remember one time, I ran for the ball to kick it, and I slipped in a mud puddle. A boy behind me ran into me, and hit his nose on the back of my head. He got a band-aid, and he shouted at me for hurting him, but it wasn't my fault.  Some people, sensing just how special I was, shuddered and stayed away from me, scared, for some reason. None of them let me touch them, as if they knew something bad would happen if I did. Heh... they must've been psychic. I remember at age seven, I was adopted, finally. The woman and man who adopted me knew I was special, and they told me so every day. They gave me a room away from all the other kids, and toys, and enough food, and they sent me to school every day, where I made new friends.  When I was twelve, I had a big big birthday, with everyone in my grade invited. We had video games, boucy-castle wrestling, and soccer. We all had a big pinata, and I accidentally hit my dad in the knee with the stick. He had to go inside, and he didn't come back out for the rest of the party. Nobody noticed. When I was fifteen, it began. First, it started with my parents. They began to feel sick. They blamed it on the ozone layer, and all the greenhouse gasses, so they decided to move us up to the mountains. We lived above everyone else, where I hiked often and cared for my adoptive parents. Unfortunately, my mother was the first to go. It was so sudden, she was just watching TV when her eyes shut. She never opened them again. I called 911 and told them what happened. They brought my mom under investigation, where I never saw her again. They decided that it was no longer safe for me to live in my own home, for I may end up infected. Knowing I was special, they weaved a web of lies, telling me I should stay at the F.B.I. labs, and they would do testing on me to see if I'd gotten sick. When they found out just how special I really was, they sent out a notice to... god knows how many people. It was an announcement, on the news, radio, and by word of mouth. This little girl, if you knew her, ever touched her, you were infected, as well as all the people you've come in contact in your life. So many people called me, begging me to tell them how to get better. People were dropping dead all around, a girl who did my hair, the boy who bumped into me during soccer, somebody I played patty-cake in school, my adoptive father.  Then, as the days went by, three days after mother died, to be exact, she woke up. The cops heard a banging in the body bag. They crept to the drawer and opened it. She had clawed out of the bag. When she saw them, she went to attack, killing one of the cops, and clawing the other. They managed to shut the drawer in time, before the other cop died, and they kept her in there. Then daddy woke up, and everyone else who had died on that same day. People were waking up all around, and attacking others, looking to survive off everyone else. People were quarantined, others were killed, and the virus I started was spread. There were picketers outside the labs, requesting I be killed for the world's safety. The labs considered this option. One evening, as they put a specific amount of rat poison in my glass if water, a banging was heard at the door. Before they could serve me my toxic beverage, they answered. The creatures I'd made wouldn't let their creator perish. They sensed my fear, and came in a large mob, overwhelming the scientists and practically tearing them apart. Then, they brought me to a safe place, and hid me away, before continuing their reign of terror. Oh journal, my journal, I'm hiding away, now. Nobody is around, and I cant stand the guilt. I have to go, have to go!...

Author's Note

This was actually going to be an intro to a roleplay, and it may still be.

Reviews

[Sarah Hawkinson]

Wow that was very interesting. It sounded so much like this new movie I want to see coming out called Orphan. You should look at the preview. lol. But this would be the zombie version. Awesome work!