Three Parents, Two Children, One Life
The Maelmang Gallery was far more active than I'd expected. I figured it'd fizzle out after burning through a decent chunk of points, but nope. People posted diligently every day, leaving comments and chatting away.
I mean, even in the old world, folks were crazy enough to drag corpses around just to flex on social media. In a destroyed one? No surprise there. Everyone craved connection and empathy—to forget the terror of loss or death, even for a moment.
Of course, not everyone saw it that way.
This guy's point wasn't wrong. Writing posts costs points, and earning points means fighting zombies. Hell, maybe some idiots fight zombies just to post.
Seeing that coming, survival-focused folks would get frustrated, sure.
But obsessing over survival alone isn't the answer either.
Humans can't live on bread alone. These people lost their homes and hope in an instant. They need something to lean on, even a little. The will to live can be more precious than a scrap of bread sometimes.
The prick who wrote that probably couldn't see past his own desperation.
And sure enough, that post got nuked with comments like Hiroshima.
Hate comments flying fast. It racked up dislikes like no other post. For the record, Maelmang Gallery has a "recommended posts" system—stuff with tons of upvotes gets promoted to a special board.
Plenty were already up there: touching stories, survival tips, key info. Sometimes dumb humor or nonsense blew up too.
Still early days—people had some slack and hope left. Romantic times.
Then, in this vibe, that post shot up to the recommended board. Upvotes climbing insanely fast. How?
Prime material. Gallery even has a photo feature—snap real-life pics straight into posts. Most skipped it; scenery was nightmare fuel.
But a newborn beaming at the camera? Instant heart-melter.
Babies: symbols of hope in doom.
This wholesome tale got flooded with upvotes and congrats. Smiles all around.
Tons rooted for the couple, like they wanted a piece of that hope too.
Humanity in action, maybe. Some probably drew real strength from it.
Not everyone, though. Plenty of worry or pessimism too.
Fair points from good intentions. Sentiment and reality clash hard.
Plenty called out "You a T?" anyway—blunt truth-tellers.
...But one comment stood out. Longest by far. Sticky, chilling even to me. Beyond jealousy or resentment—pure madness.
You'll never protect that child.
Pretty babies like that can't be saved, no matter how hard you try.
Your husband will ditch you and the kid to save his own skin.
Everyone around will look down on you, urging you to abandon the brat you popped out.
You'll be alone in a dark, lonely room, guarding the baby.
Wondering how to survive.
Sometimes clinging to hope it'll work out, vowing to make it.
But dawn won't come easy—this world won't let you rest.
Pounding on the door at dawn shatters your courage and hope.
You'll tremble, clutching the baby.
Forcing smiles in front of the kid every day.
But your mirror shows the fake as hell.
Still, your baby smiles back, the cutest in the world.
You fool yourself it's fine watching that smile.
But reality tightens like a noose—crushing you with evil and despair.
People around you die off.
Kind ones are fake—just to your face.
Behind your back, plotting how to exploit the weak you.
In your cramped room, food dwindles—you won't know how to fix it.
No milk no matter how you squeeze.
Instead of soothing the starving, wailing kid, you'll snap and yell, trembling in fear all night.
Then you'll seriously wonder if dragging this kid along is right.
Better to ditch it?
Zombies keep targeting you both amid those doubts.
Your brief lapse causes irreparable mistake.
Zombies grab your kid regardless, claws sinking in.
In that instant, you'll think better if it dies now.
Too late even if you blow the zombie's head off.
The tiny blood lump can't take it.
Pound on hospitals all you want—no docs left.
Soon you're running endlessly, clutching the cold corpse, tears streaming.
You'll bury the kid in a coffin the size of your old textbooks, sobbing.
You'll die someday carrying guilt for your weakness, yourself, and the child forever.
"......"
Gallery doesn't let infinite comments—character limits. This monster burned extra points on purpose for the wall of text. Overwhelming even full posts. Even the blunt critics—and me—tapped out.
Then, cautiously:
"Hm......"
I reread the comments. Human emotions like this? Viewing it that way made the hate even more desperate.
Family, huh.
Family. Even to me—cynical, world-weary hater of humanity—that word still tugged at something deep.
"...Might as well check it out."
My trait: Maelmang Gallery Admin. Lets me see any user's full info, including real-time satellite tracking.
Curious what kinda life spawns a comment like that.
****
I reached the place quick after heading out. Smashed zombies littered around. Rotten stench from inside.
Knocked carefully.
"Anyone home? Got food even a baby can eat. Leaving it here."
No answer. No sounds.
Busted in urgently. Woman hanging from the ceiling, swaying faintly.
...Too late.
Matched the gallery info. This was the commenter.
Timeline said she hanged right after posting.
Hunted the rot source. Easy find.
Tiny coffin, placed lovingly aside. Peeked, then closed it.
Next to it, crooked writing:
Sorry I couldn't protect you – Loving Mom
Buried mom and daughter together nearby.
"Hmmm."
No villains here. Just frail humans and inevitable death.
Prayed at the grave, left some food and formula, split.
My grave photo post rocketed to recommended—first ever honor. Felt shitty though.
"Sigh. Craving a smoke."
Didn't light up. Last promise to noona.
Scrolled recommended list slow instead.
Couple overjoyed at new baby. Mom suicided from guilt over lost child.
Side by side on the board—like a snapshot of our world.
Children.
In a world where everyone's dying, can you raise one right? Probably not.
But people can't ditch hope.
Like that mom who couldn't even bury her dead baby.
