THE DEAD GAME SERIES

I stroll past the storefronts,

tinted windows mirroring the fading sunlight.

I descend the steps to the beach,

soft sand trickling through my toes.

The sky turns black,

the clouds a dark gray.

The waves thrash in a demented dance,

and the wind propels me forward.

I race to Main Street,

palm trees bowing in unison.

Howling winds toss garbage cans,

and debris coats the streets.

The windows hang broken and twisted,

glass crunching beneath my feet.

The saddest sight is the church.

The once-white church stands charcoal-black.

The Dead are here.

The games have begun.

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