TK_Selwyn

I can't explain why or how this cycle repeats for me. Yet, what I do understand is each time I die, I return to the starting point, a zombie apocalypse, and continue my journey anew.

In my first apocalypse, I overlooked the creeping signs of doom until overrun by zombies in my flat, where I perished in sheer terror.

The second attempt to alert others of the impending chaos fell on deaf ears; labelled a lunatic, I fled the city, only to succumb to starvation and exposure alone in the wild.

By the third go, I sought safety in wealth, collecting vast supplies, yet fell victim to a brutal gang.

Now, understanding the key—precise foresight, survival skills, strict secrecy, and solitude—I see the purpose in reliving this collapse. This time, failure is not an option. This time, I will survive and outlive the apocalypse.

My Last Apocalypse

<p>The scene before us quickly devolves as the villagers' faces fill with anger upon seeing the trio. The old man, silent yet expressive, fixes me with a look that conveys a deep sense of betrayal and loss. His gaze is a silent indictment, a reflection of the pain caused by the trio's actions—or inactions—that led to the village's downfall.</p>

<p>The trio, desperate and fearful, stammers out excuses, attempting to deflect blame or perhaps lessen the severity of their situation. "We didn't mean to do that," they plead, their voices tinged with panic. But their words fall on deaf ears, dismissed by the old man's bitter acknowledgment, "Yeah, but now we lost our home because of you three."</p>

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