Lorana Price by Tori Paulsen

This is a story that my daughter Tori is writting. It’s a wonderful read. I will post updates as they appear on her site. =-)


I’m Lorana Price. I had a happy life. No husband or kids but I was happy. I had a good job and some good friends. All the stuff that means nothing now. I had an apartment that I hide out in now. You might be asking ”how did the apocalypse come?”. Well, anyone with working eyes could have seen it coming. The world was slowly falling apart. This was nothing we thought it would be. No zombies or aliens or sickness. It was the people. One day the people just snapped, went crazy, killed everyone, and started the fire that never stopped. I call the apocalypse The Fire because a fire was started and it burned everything. It is still burning today. So, before The Fire you could walk out and take a deep breath of cool, crisp, clean air. You could walk with your bare feet and feel the soft, cold, wet grass brush against your feet like angels hair. You could go over to this orchard by my apartment and pick fresh, warm, fuzzy peaches that were to die for. The people were normal, you know once in a while you’d get a jerk but there were nice people to talk to. You could hear the beautiful sound of birds, dogs, and kids. Now when you walk out you have weapons and the air is stale, smoky, and it burns your nose. There is no grass, the ground is black and chard. You have to have shoes or you’ll step in some pretty painful stuff. All of the trees are burnt and gone, and if you saw a peach even if it was partly rotted you would do whatever you had to to get it, even murder. You almost never hear birds, if you hear a dog you should run because they are starving too, and the only thing you hear of children is screams of mercy. Pretty sick right? That is the world I live in. Here is your last chance to turn around and leave, or come with me on this horrifying blood bath. Are you ready?

Chapter 1- mother and child

I gaze out my window and give a faint smile. I cringe at the blood curdling scream that fallows my smile. Another fallen victim. I step outside and follow the screams. I’ve gotten used to the smoke and intense heat and I soon come upon a mother and child. The child is dead and the mother is bloody. This is the world we live in. Smoke fills the air and blood fills the streets. I have sat back every day and watch the fire burn. “Why?!?!” she screams. “Because you had hope” I say in an even tone. “Hope is all you can have! Hope is the best thing to have!” she sobs over the child’s body. “No there is no hope for this world, not anymore.” I say, venom now dripping from my voice. “And why not?” she screams at me clearly angry. “Because death covers us like a thick black smoke, or a blanket holding in the heat. Hovering over every survivor.” I say and with that I put a bullet in her head. I walk over and put her hand in the child’s. “I have given you the gift of death. Now take your child and run from this world.” I whisper to the bodies. My name is Lorana Price and I have watched the world burn.

Chapter 2 How it happened

It was 6: oo A.M, when I heard the first scream, jolting me out of my sleep. I hear more screams then gun shots. I look out the window and all I can see is guns and fire. A single tear falls down my cheek as I see a child taken down. Blood splatters my window and I stand frozen as the scarlet red ooze drips down the glass. I let out a small scream, run to the kitchen and grab a knife, and run to the closet in my bedroom. As I am closing the door I hear people bust in to my house. I sit on the smooth carpet as my fear grows because of the deafening sound of guns and the darkness that feels like it is swallowing me. A man opens my closet door and starts to go through things and then he sees my tear stricken face. He grabs me and goes to shoot me so out of instinct to survive I insert my knife into his neck. I scream a little when I feel the warm blood pour into my hand and pool on the floor at my bare feet. I stand there like a deer in headlights, when I snap back to reality I scramble back to my closet. I soon fall into a deep sleep from stress and tiredness. I wake up a lot later. I hear nothing so I creep slowly out of my closet. I see the man I stabbed still in his pool of blood scaring my carpet with the ugly memory. I walk around my apartment to find it completely trashed. I see a woman bleeding on my living room floor. My walls are stained with the blood of these people. I look at my face in a mirror to see a frightened face with dried blood caked on the face staring back at me. My feet are covered with blood and so are my hands. I slowly walk outside to see nothing but the blinding brightness of fire and blood. Smoke is everywhere and blood flows like a river down the gutters. It’s all I can do not to gag. I stagger around picking up things I need, food, clothes, blankets, water, then I start to board up my house. All I can think of is “My name is Lorana Price and the apocalypse has come”.

Chapter 3- Nothing Left

I shuffle down the street, stressed out over every shadow. The smell is repulsive, the ground is full of ash, and the air is muggy and hot. I can’t tell the difference between building and human ash. Its saddening to think of all of the pain and suffering these streets have seen. I scavenge houses, buildings and bodies. About an hour later I finally except that there is nothing left here. I jog home dodging bodies and big streets. When I get home I start to pack. I pack food, water, and clothes. Once I’m done I have black, tight jeans on, a black T-shirt, black boots, and a black jacket on. I have my one big bag, my sniper rifle, my hand gun, and my knife. I’m about to leave when I stop and run my fingers through the soft yet rough dirty carpet. I run my hand along the table and counter feeling and remembering. The smooth marble of the counters and the rough wood of the table. The peeling of the wallpaper. I look at everything I might not ever see again. I walk through the town aware of every single leaf that twitches. When I reach the border of the town I stop. I look back at everything I once knew and what I know now. I take a deep breath and put one foot over the border. My name is Lorana Price and this is my story.


One thought on “Lorana Price by Tori Paulsen

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s