When I invited 2k13 debut author Demitria Lunetta to write a guest post about her debut YA IN THE AFTER she agreed, and offered to explain the situation in her story from her character Amy's point of view. And what a story this is! Thrilling and chilling, this tale of post-apocalyptic horror sounds like an awesome read. You can find out more about the novel and Demitria here: http://demitrialunetta.blogspot.com/
Here's what Amy thinks about her frightening situation:
I only go out at night.
The creatures are everywhere during the day. They shuffle around in the
sunlight, searching for food. I have nowhere else to go, so I hide on the roof
of my house and peer at them through binoculars. They seem so decrepit. Their skin
is a sickly pea green, their eyes milky yellow-white. They can't see very well,
but even now They search. They hunger after human flesh. But
They will not find what They crave. All the people are gone, devoured by
them within the first few days.
They may not look like They should be a threat, but They are
incredible hunters. They hear even the most silent of footsteps. Every
breath, every sound. Even now, one of the creatures' head jerks around at the
sound of a pigeon landing on a nearby garbage can. In an instant
its posture completely changes. No longer does it wander aimlessly.
It snaps to attention and in a flash pounces on the bird, grabbing it mid
flight with its long yellow claws. I close my eyes as feathers fly and the
creature bites into the bird's flesh. I force myself to open my eyes and watch
as it greedily bites into the pigeon, consuming it, bones and all, in
I've had enough of watching Them. It's time to retreat into my house and
read about how life was Before the creatures came. I slowly stand and turn
toward the stairs, only to clumsily let my binoculars slide from my fingers and
fall to the ground with a horrifying crash, the glass lenses shattering. I
freeze as all the creatures within hearing range rush to my house. I drop into
a crouch and watch Them throw themselves against the electric fence, their
pale, puke colored skin sparking where it touches the metal. I crawl slowly
backwards, out of view, and wait for the sounds of struggle to stop. They will
forget in a moment, wander off. They may be deadly, but they are not smart.
I rest my head in my arms and wait for Them to lose interest. How have
They beat us, these mindless, hungry creatures? I ask myself. How did
we let ourselves become food for another species? How can aliens be real? I
cradle my head and wonder how long can I survive this half life, alone in the
- Amy Harris, Age 14