Old Rags: Chapter 1
"The smell of old blood and rotten eggs fills the air. No, not rotten eggs, but a different stentch like, like, the smell of rancid milk on a hot day in August, it was unbearable, I almost vomited in my own seat. But instead, I sit here, waiting to be taken apart by some zombie army. While I am rotting in this dark, stinky shell of a room, tied to a chair, Zopham the dark zombie "overlord" is probably ripping through waht could be California. My name is Cole Manhattan, yes, like the place. I start to struggle in the still, cold, rusty iron chair. Soon, the rope makes a strange creaking noise, unlike most creaking sounds. Seconds later, instead of the rope breaking like you'd expect, the chair fell apart under me. Figures, iron that old couldn't hold anybody up. Well, time to have a look around."