Post Apocalypse Fantasy Novels & Stories

He walked toward the bathroom, each step steady, though his heart was pounding. And behind him, Dante walked back to the chair, the cigarette burning low between his fingers. He stared at the closed door, "this is just the beginning" he groans, they'd just jumped the highest hurdle, but can they keep jumping, he has both a Elite prime luna and an Elite prime omega, can he really satiate them? No, doub was the beginning of self destruction, he knows his strength, his Enigma is no where near being weak, he has to get over that fear, that fear Yuno had instilled in him.

This is a work of dark fantasy fiction and should be read with an open mind and a clear understanding of its mature and controversial themes. Happy Reading ! You can follow my F******k page, Mia X Novels and I*******m Account: miaxnovels, for more stories !

Old systems collapsed, and while some groups tried to patch things back together, the currents of this new era were way too big for them to steer. New bases or camps rose everywhere. A camp-based civilization was becoming the norm. Anyone trying to bring back the old pre-apocalypse order was just stuck in the past. So nobody should expect the apocalypse to end. That would be a pipe dream. Things would only go back to normal when the virus was totally gone, if that was even possible. The future would be built around bases, and glory would only revolve around camps. Hayley knew they were just small fries back at Base K1, the kind the base wouldn't bother sending rescue teams for. They weren't

Thanks to an explosion that had occurred in a research lab, an unknown substance was leaked to the world. This was the start of the apocalyptic era, where humans could get infected by the substance, thus transforming into zombies. Three years after the zombie apocalypse started, I died in the maws of the zombies. To make things worse, my kindness was the reason behind my eventual death. Surprisingly enough, I was reborn to the timeframe where there were six hours left before the zombie outbreak began.

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

I praise Him most of all for turning the evil situation that had been hell pressed to do worse than just simply kill me, into a life made so full with happiness that I could never have asked for as much as He had given to me. In truth, my life had become a fantasy. A dream come true. Glancing back into my mate’s eyes, I could see that the same was true for him. I was well and truly his fantasy.

Handwriting from twelve years ago — the strokes heavier than they were now, the flourishes drawn wide and loose, like someone who wasn't afraid of wasting paper. I turned to page twelve. A layout diagram of the bunker. Seven bunks, one incubation unit, the storeroom at the end of the hallway, the concrete-sealed door nearly two feet thick. In the bottom right corner of the diagram, a note in my own handwriting: "The apocalypse has to feel real. Push the heat up, make the water filthy — let the audience practically smell it. Rotate the insiders every season, keep one genuinely unwitting participant — protects the ratings." After "genuinely unwitting," there was a note in parentheses. Just one

I rubbed my forehead gently, feeling a little throbbing in my head that made me a little dizzy. I could barely tell if it was day or night as I gazed out the window. But each day was dragging me closer to the apocalypse. And as strong as I felt, even with better vision that I could see people walking from kilometres away, I didn't know if I was ready for it. If I was going to not only survive the apocalypse but also take in survivors who would have nowhere else to go. With a sigh, I was about to make my way downstairs when a crazy thought clicked in my head and my lips curled into a smile.

"Okay, so if similar dreams attract each other, and a lot of people dream about sex, for example..." Julia grinned. "Well done. Yes, there are some really big dreamscapes devoted to very common dreams. They tend to persist as well, because there's always someone sleeping, and having that kind of dream. Some of them are very old. There's a dreamscape of an orgy that we're pretty sure has been going since at least the Greek Classic period, and there's a nightmare dreamscape that probably first emerged back in the Palaeolithic era." "Wow! Can we go visit some?"

Every detail was accounted for, every system optimized for efficiency. In the afternoons, she focused on her mental health. She read books from the library, practicing her meditation and journaling about her experiences. She wrote about her past life, her death, and her rebirth. She wrote about Julian, Brenda, and Chloe—their betrayals, their cruelty, their ultimate downfall. She wrote about her plans for the future, the world she intended to build in the aftermath of the apocalypse. The journaling was cathartic, a way to process her emotions and maintain her sanity.