Phillipa took a deep, sharp intake of breath and screamed. The piercing, horrid sound rose louder and louder, clashing and ringing around the rusted steel warehouse. The floor was covered in bodies. The floor was covered in bodies, each one stinking with the puking smell of decomposed blood, guts, flesh and eyeballs slowly detaching themselves. The warehouse was as big as half a football pitch and covered in bodies. Pale gauntless bodies. They hung from the steel girders and were squashed into air vents. And this was just the start.
For this girl, this skinny, bag of bones in the latest fashions, this college cheerleader, this girl, the sweat started to pour down from her blond hair and ruin the carefully planted make up. Her nostrils filled with the smoke of rotten bodies but her body was stuck to floor and couldn't move for the blood that was spilled there. She screamed, she wailed, she cried but it was to no avail.
There was a sharp, agonizing kick in her back, and the sword went clean through her back. Falling limp, the dead Phillipa was flung to the floor, and behind her dead body was Phillipa herself. The tears fell down her pretty pale white face and she dropped the sword with clash. She knew she had just killed herself.
From the shadows a voice lurked, jumping frantically and delighted. It said;
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