courierv1ctor
It was a punishment beyond imagining. At this point, even death would be a preferable alternative, and a mercy. It was beyond what he had ever dreamed possible for suffering and hate - a slave to everything he had fought so hard against. The feeling of knowing he would never escape this fate was unbearable.
There's vines and chains, twisting about and strangling me. Like a noose, they have a choke hold, and I feel myself unable to resist. The pain in my lungs, and the ability to see clearly again - I see death, and I see freedom, at last, from the grey mists and sleepless nights.
A bagel. A goddamn fucking bagel. What the hell is so special about a fucking bagel? They're donut imposters. They have no place in this world, like me. They're freaks, and they're too chewy. No one ever wants them. No one ever wants me.
A smudge of blood, and a hint of dirt on his face, smeared with tears, gave him a look that simply /screamed/ that he was once again drunk, and suicidal. The wasteland did that to a person, and he was one of those weak enough to drown in alcoholism and shame over the past. It didn't matter, but the blood did - his own blood, taken from his choking throat.
Fabricated and jury-rigged from thousands of old airplanes and vehicles, the Monument was to be the "Glory of the West" - a shining beacon to the east, to show what the west could do. It was a zombie, a put-together mashup of various things, but it /looked/ good, and that was the whole idea.
It is still a bleak, unforgiving thing...black and red, grey and cold... It only feeds, and only crawls, consuming all. Its a dark example of humanity's evil, spreading like fire and seeking to destroy all. There is no escape. It doesn't talk or wait, it just consumes.