Clouds Over Sin City.

Aiming to spread message about Gambling Responsibly.

Clouds Over Sin City.

    The blazing, sunny skies beat down on Las Vegas, capital of glitz. The tawdry glamour of the casinos enticed all comers into a world of illusion.

       John Average entered the parched world of gambling thrills. John was an average lower middle-class guy on vacation. He was about average height, middle-aged, divorced, unattached. John was a nondescript, neutral kind of dude no one noticed much. Lured by fake propaganda, he was a symbol, representative of the living dead.

    At Sin City, all was normal. The living dead spent hours and days feeding their addictions. Not one of them heeded or cared when clouds appeared, suspended over Vegas. Dark, gloomy portents, heralding the Grim Reaper as he strolled and stalked among his zombies.

       The Grim Reaper emanated dank black mists of his ghoulish essence. John Average sensed a chill seeping throughout his soul, and Sin City, but it was too late. John went nowhere in particular. Bright lights and the glitterati atmosphere of Las Vegas, City of Sin, had claimed another living dead zombie. John Average had no future, no past.

He poured his soul into the machines.

       Invisible in the dens of iniquity, the Grim Reaper summoned his zombies, including John Average. Here and there, a win? Coins tumbling, open coffers, hands grasping, then the rewards snapped closed. Once more, his zombies lingered on, sucked into the Reaper's vortex of deceit and delusion, damaging every one in its path.

        The zombies, the living dead, all variants of John Average, had been bitten by their own weakness and addictions. The malady and mayhem spread, like a destructive evil tide, engulfing every one the zombies knew. The greed of the zombies targeted their spouses, their families, their friends, their homes, their lives.

          The future was now. The zombie Apocalypse rolled ever forward, the Grim Reaper was scything his daily toll.

John Average and the zombies hated their lives so much, they could no longer see their own faces. The living  dead

had no reflections, they were all victims. The zombies played and played, biting themselves and all they touched.

          The Grim Reaper never rested. His zombie Apocalypse permeated Las Vegas, Sin City. No one really knew how this story was supposed to end...........

Author's Note

Feedback welcome.