- Joined
- Oct 11, 2008
- Messages
- 73
An adaptation of the famous poem, written by me. Enjoy 
"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the safehouse,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a zombie mouse.
The survivors were armed, from there shoes to their hair,
In hopes that a rescue chopper soon would be there.
The survivors set out in the night with their guns,
knowing the hardships had not yet begun.
The chopper would land on the roof of an old estate;
they now had to hurry, so they wouldn?t be late.
When suddenly from all around them they came:
zombies, or ?infected? their true name.
The survivors let out a torrent of shots
and soon they were covered in tiny red spots.
The moon in the sky matched the snow on the ground,
twas a children?s wonderland all around.
Save for the infected and their most ghastly moans
The chill and the fright scared them all to the bones.
When what to their searching eyes did appear,
a most frightening infected, on all fours like a deer.
It wore the hood of a sweatshirt to cover its head,
and its scream as it pounced filled them all with dread.
It leaped through the air and landed on one,
but luckily, only one bash from a gun,
was enough to free the survivor of the unwanted Hunter;
and the infected fell down as it was broken asunder.
And the survivors pressed on through the bitter winter night,
always checking their ammo and aiming down the sight.
When a survivor, upon hearing a racket did exclaim,
?A Tank! A Tank! Now set him aflame!?
And now a survivor did throw from his hand
a Molotov cocktail, and he watched to see where it would land
Upon hitting the tank, it lit it on fire
the Tank slumped over, but their situation was still dire.
The survivors they ran, with their guns firing fast,
and as they ran onward, a Smoker they passed.
It entangled a survivor with its long, outstretched tongue
but quickly it was hit, as another one swung.
One held a bat clenched tight in her fist;
she knew in her mind she could not afford to miss.
She swung like a batter standing over home plate
and the Smoker fell over, dead, from the bat?s mighty weight.
With the infected horde still in hot pursuit,
the survivors followed their correct route.
Over hill and through forest they ran without pause
occasionally wrapping themselves in medical gauze.
Finally the estate came into view:
its windows boarded, looking old and not new.
When an awful crying soon met with their ears,
?Don?t bother the witch; don?t let it get near.?
They avoided the witch and fought up, on the attack
to a defensive position, with ammo and medpacks.
They called on the radio, and heard a voice in reply
?I?ll be there soon; use that mounted gun so that you don?t die.?
As the horde climbed the walls of the run down estate,
the survivors fought to live, or meet their fate.
Wave after wave of infected ones fell,
and the survivors replaced all their used bullet shells.
When suddenly over their heads did fly,
a red Coast Guard chopper, like St. Nick in the sky.
As it landed on the roof, the survivors climbed aboard,
and praised this Christmas escape, and thanked the Lord.
As the chopper ascended to escape the mounting swarm,
the Survivors rejoiced and felt not cold but warm.
And as they looked down, they said without fright,
?Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night?. "
Happy Holidays,
lordvader77
"Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the safehouse,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a zombie mouse.
The survivors were armed, from there shoes to their hair,
In hopes that a rescue chopper soon would be there.
The survivors set out in the night with their guns,
knowing the hardships had not yet begun.
The chopper would land on the roof of an old estate;
they now had to hurry, so they wouldn?t be late.
When suddenly from all around them they came:
zombies, or ?infected? their true name.
The survivors let out a torrent of shots
and soon they were covered in tiny red spots.
The moon in the sky matched the snow on the ground,
twas a children?s wonderland all around.
Save for the infected and their most ghastly moans
The chill and the fright scared them all to the bones.
When what to their searching eyes did appear,
a most frightening infected, on all fours like a deer.
It wore the hood of a sweatshirt to cover its head,
and its scream as it pounced filled them all with dread.
It leaped through the air and landed on one,
but luckily, only one bash from a gun,
was enough to free the survivor of the unwanted Hunter;
and the infected fell down as it was broken asunder.
And the survivors pressed on through the bitter winter night,
always checking their ammo and aiming down the sight.
When a survivor, upon hearing a racket did exclaim,
?A Tank! A Tank! Now set him aflame!?
And now a survivor did throw from his hand
a Molotov cocktail, and he watched to see where it would land
Upon hitting the tank, it lit it on fire
the Tank slumped over, but their situation was still dire.
The survivors they ran, with their guns firing fast,
and as they ran onward, a Smoker they passed.
It entangled a survivor with its long, outstretched tongue
but quickly it was hit, as another one swung.
One held a bat clenched tight in her fist;
she knew in her mind she could not afford to miss.
She swung like a batter standing over home plate
and the Smoker fell over, dead, from the bat?s mighty weight.
With the infected horde still in hot pursuit,
the survivors followed their correct route.
Over hill and through forest they ran without pause
occasionally wrapping themselves in medical gauze.
Finally the estate came into view:
its windows boarded, looking old and not new.
When an awful crying soon met with their ears,
?Don?t bother the witch; don?t let it get near.?
They avoided the witch and fought up, on the attack
to a defensive position, with ammo and medpacks.
They called on the radio, and heard a voice in reply
?I?ll be there soon; use that mounted gun so that you don?t die.?
As the horde climbed the walls of the run down estate,
the survivors fought to live, or meet their fate.
Wave after wave of infected ones fell,
and the survivors replaced all their used bullet shells.
When suddenly over their heads did fly,
a red Coast Guard chopper, like St. Nick in the sky.
As it landed on the roof, the survivors climbed aboard,
and praised this Christmas escape, and thanked the Lord.
As the chopper ascended to escape the mounting swarm,
the Survivors rejoiced and felt not cold but warm.
And as they looked down, they said without fright,
?Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night?. "
Happy Holidays,
lordvader77
