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Even months before that morning, it became a popular topic of discussion due to the threat that it had to entire countries among the world. It is a most common, but not understood situation as we can best simply define as a disease. This particular disease affected the nervous and respiratory systems and appeared to turn thought into blankness, kindness into hatefulness, and actually remove morality from the victim. This idea, never heard of at all, startled scientists to the extent where it isn't officially confirmed as a disease. It's now become controversial to the point where some invented other outrageous assumptions as to the origins of such malfunctions in behavior. For this reason, much of us try to push it off even though it may spread onto our once innocent bodies within short time. Perhaps this allowed us to live our lives free of fear until our time came, but watching my father die that very day would lead me into an endless pattern of isolation from everyone, until now.

My alarm roars off while I am sound asleep dreaming of vague images I'd soon forget completely. Unhappy from such a rude awakening I slammed onto the noisy machine and it shut off. I sat up and attempted to rid myself of sleep and hop out of my warm bed and quickly noticed the humid, yet cold air I seem to be exposed to often. Lumbering down the old and creaky stairway to the kitchen, I am struck with the unpleasant sensation that is a headache. I knew it would last all day and begin to kill me by nightfall, so already my day had been started off rather poorly. I see the familiar image of my father at the table eating breakfast with his reading glasses on and his mouth full of milk and cereal fragments. He clenches his head and acknowledges my presence with a "Good morning," except with a deep voice indicating illness. He complains about having a potential fever and I try to express sympathy in the best way I can. The one thing that was an improvement to my day was reported to me by this ill man I called Dad, of which was that I hadn't school this day. I was surprised really, since this was an uncommon event, but if I'd given it thought it did make sense. There had been a constant downpour with a mixture of thunder here and there the day before and was finally beginning to let up now. The roads were turned into paved marshlands and would definitely cause troubles if buses drove on them.

After eating a silent breakfast with my dad, he departs for work and I'm left alone for half an hour until my mom would likely awaken. My head throbs due to the humidity and I was hardly in the mood for any video games, but I still bothered to play roblox since I had the day off. After all, the day was revolting outside and nothing else I could manage to do but play games or watch TV indoors. For the past few days on roblox, I was into old, but very well-made zombie questing games on roblox. My favorite part of them was the atmosphere, as you enjoyed a story with a realistic environment to survive zombies in. Contamination is a famous example of such a game and at this point the game was in Beta. The final boss had just been added and was a giant blue monster that crashes through a wall at the end of the game. Contamination basically revolved around escaping a factory that developed contaminated water which infected it (Or so I remember, I haven't dared to play since.) You have to escape it with your group of survivors and the recently added boss was the defender of the exit, so I had to beat it after seeing that he was added.

I would try to conquer this evil mutant all throughout the day and it seemed my headache increased in tension due to eye strain now. The storm remained neutral all day, but the power had gone out for an hour since it never stopped for good. I was left alone all day after my mother left. We didn't exchange much conversation either, but as one might expect needed to know why I was not learning in school. Those roads must have been brutal to drive on though, so they would all know anyways. It seemed nobody was ready to be happy in the position we were at, but of course nobody is pleased to live without sunlight for days. This was something more than the weather, but my inattentional blindness prevented me from noticing it just yet. Sure, I was aware and sad for my dad, but I couldn't put two and two together. I was so oblivious to the reality that was occurring, that being the shocking truth that I was living through the lifestyle of the zombie games on roblox. It was gloomy and wet while we were scared and defeated by disease, so it seems to me a variety of factors can apply to us becoming lifeless walking corpses of dread.

My father arrived home a little earlier than usual when I was in the process of killing the boss zombie with my friends. I turn to face him and almost flinch because he is pale and looked truly broken on the inside. I was filled with a feeling of worry and fear at the sight of him that I can't describe. Bearing in mind the reports of the disease that destroyed minds and lungs, this couldn't possibly be your average rough day. I ask if he is alright even though I know the answer. He seems to stutter in his weak, guttural response, that he thinks he should lay down. He walks into his room across the short hallway and my mom rushes to embrace his dying self. The blue giant we were killing in game was almost dead. As soon as we did that, I planned on helping my dad feel better. It was far too late to try anything though, for moments later I hear him moaning for my presence at his bedside. The very emotional details of the final encounter are very hard to explain, but I will indicate key signals to what became even scarier about the departure.

My mother had finally picked up on the inevitability of death on this horrid day and began to cry facing away from us. I found it hard to look into the fogged, unfocused lenses that were once fun and joyful eyes of a pure heart. He was constantly mumbling and groaning in what we could not make out. My mother and I pray that the pain is minimal as he enters Heaven and that all sins are forgiven. After the final word of "Amen" he chokes and lurches inwards within one final trial at inhaling. His mouth remains open and he does not react to us any longer. My mother rushes from the room in a kind of breakdown that I, myself, was lucky enough to contain. I'm alone with this bag of rotting flesh that is no longer my father, whose soul is hopefully with God. I happen to observe another unusual incident that would otherwise mean nothing. There was a toy or model tank on the end table with no reason to be there at all, or so I was first lead. The Tank was the name of the boss in Contamination. I only now knew what that meant and regret gaining this knowledge. Just as I am ready to be with my mother, I'm able to catch movement out of the corner of my view. His head now faces me, but his eyes are completely tilted upward into his eyelids.

"Hope you had enough practice."

--DarkSwarm (talk) 02:56, November 15, 2014 (UTC)

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