Tribelle

I sighed as I brought my car to a standstill on the drive. The world outside the windows was frosty and foggy, and my body was relcuctant to step out of the warmth of the car interior into the cold chill of this late december night. The street was still all up in neon lights from the neighbour's holiday decorations - I think I was the only person that year who didn't decorate. If santa's north pole village really exsisted, then I could only imagine it looking something like my neighbourhood. Everyone went crazy for christmas round here. Not me, though. Not this year. In the end I decided that spending another night sleeping in the car was no

1487. 1488. 1489. 149- THUMP! moan! Max shuddered at the sound of the undead throwing themselves at his front door. It had been like this for the past week, but he still despised them howling and scratching to get inside the house. He was under no pretenses - he had read 'The Zombie Survival Guide', and he knew they wouldn't stop howling and scratching until they were through the door and making a meal of his digestive system. He could always block it out with earplugs - he had 6 pairs, after all. The problem was they could prove to be incredibly uncomfortable, and always held a possible chance of popping his eardrums, so he chose not to