POST-APOCALYPTIC Chicken nuggets turned most of the world's population into demented killer clowns. Yep, you heard me. My name is Slayer 67, and I'm part of a gang of former Roller Derby Girls called the Dirty Harriets. We knuckle up and survive in a skyscraper fortress, surrounded on all sides by post-apocalyptic New York City. This is my short 'dear diary' of life in the urban wastelands against ruthless scavengers, irradiated mutants, and bloodthirsty clowns. You're welcome. Word: 5,751 PREPPER HERO My father was a doomsday prepper. He was one of those people that would rather go camping or teach their kids about hunting instead of worry about celebrity gossip or letting reality tv be the babysitter. He believed in America, the 2nd Amendment, and that a good man needed to be prepared to keep his family safe. I've always been proud to be his daughter, but never so much as I am now, even years after his death. This is my short 'thank you letter' to my departed father, who died face down in the woods fighting for what he believed in. This is the brief story of a former police officer and family man who when the SHTF had to make sacrifices, endure hard choices, and struggle daily to do his part to re-build his world one survivor at a time. Words: 6,280 KILL THEM ALL My name used to be Melissa Gray. I had parents, a job, an apartment, my boyfriend Carter, and a plan about how I was going to live my life. After the outbreak all of that was taken from me, and since then I have killed one thousand nine hundred and seventy three of the walking dead. I am most likely going to die young, but when I do it will be as Slayer 67. There are plenty of guides for survivors, this is a handbook for those extreme survivors who are ready to step up and be slayers. We will not stop until every last one of them is destroyed. There is no bright future for us, only battle and a likely death, but if we get the job done there might be a safe tomorrow for the next generation of humanity. Words: 5,633