Archive for the ‘The Publishing Business’ Category

Dark Silo recently visited the Polaris Expeditionary School in Fort Collins, Colorado for “zombie week.” For five days, teacher Ryan Grindle builds integrated curriculum around a fun theme—the living dead. One key assignment involved writing zombie fiction. As promised, Dark Silo Press will present the best three student submissions, beginning with a scene from Olivia W.’s story.

Note that each of the three stories were fairly lengthy. For reasons of space, we had to edit a portion of Olivia’s work. But give this a read. Olivia’s tale is touching, and ends with an interesting turn!


Hello my name is Samantha. I don’t know who you are. I am dead if you’re reading this. Sorry about being cliche. The following is the account of however long I live through this. I’m writing so that maybe when this shit storm blows over something of me will be left behind. and then maybe I won’t just be another footprint washed away by the wind. I will be remembered maybe not as something great, but I will be remembered, I hope.

Author/Zombie Olivia W.

Author/Zombie Olivia W.


I apologize for the fact that there will be no real dates. I have no idea what day it is. I can tell you that it is most likely late summer or early fall. The leaves are starting to rot on the trees and lay on the ground piling up like an itchy wool blanket. We walked for what seemed like ten miles today, probably more like four miles.

By we, I mean Erica, Matt, and I (Samantha). We’ve been following the railroad track knowing that we won’t be lost, and that it will go through an occasional town where we can stock up on supplies. We met at the Pouder river near Lee Martinez park about two days ago.

Erica is fairly nice. She doesn’t talk much, none of us really do anymore. She has light hair that reminds me of the color of simba from the lion king. Her eyes are blue/grey. She hasn’t told me how old she is, and I don’t think it’s too important to know. Although she looks to be in her twenties. Matt is tall maybe 5’11”. He has dark hair that is longer than a finger, but shorter than a hand. He has green eyes that look like flecks of evergreens, really pretty. He is pretty strong, I guess you have to be strong to survive. I am average. I have brown hair, and brown eyes. I’m not too strong, and not too weak. Nothing special to me really, except for I’m still alive.


We’re taking a break at a river to fill up our water bottles, and look for something edible. I don’t know if you have ever had water with iodine in it but trust me it is nasty. I also believe that it has some negative effects on your liver, but it’s better than cholera or malaria. Erica has this really great book. It has a bunch descriptions of edible plants in it with pictures. We found some wax berries that are really good. They are red, they have what seems to be a waxy covering, and they are delicious. It’s too bad it took an apocalypse for me to try them. Alright we are going to get moving. I’m going to write again tonight wish me luck.


So much has happened. We were scavenging for food in an abandoned basement at a factory warehouse. We heard moans like the ones in the zombie movies, except for it’s worse. I wish I could explain it. It was as if  someone is groaning while their throat is being slit with a rusted razor blade. We heard them while we were scavenging in a basement that had loads of canned food. The moans echoed in my head piling up on each other until I couldn’t think of anything else. Matt immediately locked the door. I was terrified. I could feel the adrenaline pumping into my muscles like air into balloons. I loaded my crossbow with a shaky hand, and aimed at the door commanding myself to stay still. I tried to even my breath. Erica’s eyebrows were scrunched up, and she seemed to be attempting to solve a difficult puzzle. I glanced at Matt. he had his compact bow ready. The string held an arrow, and it was pulled back, the muscle in his arm faintly twitching.

“Guys,” Erica whispered. “What are you planning on doing?

I glanced over my shoulder staring at her feeling stupid. I  realized that we hadn’t thought this through. Matt slowly let the bow string loose turning towards her.
He sighed. “What do you suggest?”

“We can’t wait in here. If they break through the door there’s no way that we can kill them all no matter how slow and stupid they are. We have the best chance if we’re above them.” She had a point. I had seen a tall building nearby. It had a rusty ladder that led to the top. That would be the best place to go. I told them in hushed tones about the building. We packed up. I scribbled in my journal not wanting to die leaving no explanation. Then we left.

I led, Matt next, and Erica taking up the rear. We all had our weapons loaded, ready to kill at the first sight of movement. Half way there we saw a group of them, their skin hanging limply over their bones barely covering whatever was left on them. They were jaundicing and seemed to be blanketed with bruises. Their eyes looked to be looted of all life. The skin had lost all amount of opaque pigment, leaving their insides exposed to eyes. Most of their clothing had either rotted away or fallen to the ground. A guy, maybe twenty when he died, had sagging pants falling below his knees, revealing his plaid underwear. His shirt had stab wounds, and his arm seemed to be hanging from it’s socket. Blood was smeared on his mouth. I avoided looking at him, for he disturbed me, and with my weak stomach I couldn’t afford it.

Lifting my head to scan our rout, I found that their were more of them. Definitely more than a dozen stood in front of us. They didn’t seem to see us; maybe they were blind. We walked quietly forward. I flinched as my boots crunched on the gravel. A few of them turned their heads, tilting them so their ears faced us attentively. We stopped. I thought about it what could we do. If we kept moving, they would definitely hear us. “Run” whispered in my head. I turned and mouthed the word to Erica and Matt. They nodded and I held up my hand three fingers, then two, one, and then a closed fist. My legs extended and contracted rhythmically hitting the ground. The backpack full of survival gear pounded into my spine throwing my vertebrae out of alignment. As soon as my legs reacted the undead turned, facing us. I could see their muscles ripple under their skin. They were fast. Faster than any others I had seen. One lady tripped her leg falling from her hip as the ligament and muscle snapped. Matt passed me, catching hold of the ladder and pulling himself up.

Now the rusty end of the ladder was only ten steps away. Then  five steps, three, two, one. I seized the bottom rung of the ladder, pulling myself up. I felt clammy fingers grab my ankle. I tried kicking it away as I continued to heave myself up from the ground. The grip tightened as I frantically moved my leg, trying to shake free. I reached the third bar from the ground, but the hand still wouldn’t let go. The undying hunger fueling this monster was powerful. I was dragging this body with me and my muscles complained. I felt teeth dig into the flesh of my calf and let out a scream of agony. I held on with one hand my fingers clutching the metal with all their might. I pointed the loaded crossbow below me and pulled the trigger. The weight fell from my leg and I attempted climbing again.

The pain was unbearable, to the point that I am suprised I did not pass out. I couldn’t feel my leg, but was sure that blood was spilling out of me splattering the hungry mob below. for what seemed like hours I climbed the ladder. Matt was at the top flinging arrows to the ground puncturing the heads of those below. I reached the top. dropping immediately from exhaustion. Matt rushed to me and relieved me of my bag. He pulled out a first aid kit and tended to my leg. He poured water over my calf, and bandaged it. I fell into a coma-like sleep. I found myself awake and pulled my journal out.


It’s the sixth day since I started my journal and I am better off dead. I feel swollen. My leg probably has some infection from the zombie saliva. I don’t know if I should tell Matt or not. He probably knows anyways. I am better off just killing myself now. If I jump, then I am dead. I probably won’t come back, because they will eat all of me. I don’t want to make Matt kill me, and it would be so much easier if I did it my self. All I have to do is jump into the mouth of those monsters and this nightmare will be over. Goodbye.


Hello My name is Matt…