1 Introduction

Being a game designer and developner for SEGA company brought me a lot of money, since my major was Zombie games. I loved that blood and gore world I could design my own way. I didn't know my life will go Upside-down when I created Zombie Massacre. Since I designed two years ago, I was the one to try it out first. My avatar was the biggest, scariest looking character I could make. It had muscles I never worked for and fighting skills I never trained to learn. It had mean looking eyes of vivd green and a skin of palest white. Its hair was so red and glossy it flowed like a cold flame with each turn of my head. It could go long periods without food or drink and had an IQ smarter than Issac Newton. In that world where the avatar is me I was almost a God, I had power, influence and the ability to cause others pain if they cross my path. I could crack Zombie skulls and shoot arrows, I could run without stopping for hours. But from the other side of the screen I was a bit flabby despite being taller than average. My hair was bleached white with green tips and I had a ring through my nose. Though my clothes were all black when I bought them they became a washed out grey. I wished I could step into the screen and really live as that avatar - just reaching back through the screen every once in a while for another cookie or a slurp of soda.

But I had no idea how strong is the power of wishing for something you couldn't have not even in your most twisted reality until that September two years ago.

That zombie that came out of my closet I could only describe as looking like some kind of horrific burn victim, for she had no skin on her face. My guess, later, not at the time, was that it had been chewed off my other zombies before she reanimated. The lack of eyelids gave her eyeballs a popping look as they swiveled in their sockets, searching for her next meal. Her hair was grey and pulled into a granny's bun, like some dear old lady, but whoever she had been, she was the enemy then. I forgot my vertigo and shimmied down the drain pipe that hung within reach of my balcony. She groped and moaned for me from the railing but her rotting brain couldn't figure out how to follow. Her legs kept shuffling even though she could go no further. But it didn't stop there, another set of moans and I saw the horde of zombies was coming closer and closer from the end of my street, their smell becoming even more unbearable. They had deformed bodies, and limbs sticking out at odd angles. Their bloodshot eyes darted over the land, looking for food. Reaching arms, flesh peeling, in short, they were terrifyingly grotesque. Groans and moans came from their open mouths, wanting human meat. My heart in my mouth, I ran for my life. .