Fire. A giant cloud of fire. Mushroom shaped, shockwaves of flames emitting in every degree away from the blast. The heat was unbearable, my own glasses even started to melt and it's residue dripped from the lens like sweat. My wife and children called out, shouted and screamed. I turned to them, with an empty expression upon which any artist could paint a picture. They looked into my eyes, dead eyes, and then looked outside.
"What do we do." said my wife, her face now as pale as mine.
"I don't know..." I trailed off, still in shock.
"What do we do!" she screamed out, now sweating.
I snapped myself out of the moment, and thought back to the previous weeks of fear and relief. We had been told the situation had been contained, and that there was nothing to be afraid of. We thought wrongly. I looked once again outside of the window, a fearful emotion pinched my soul. I knew what to do.
"Take the children... into the closet..." I whispered.
"What?" she asked outloud
"Do it." I replied.
Hastily, she ushered the children into the broom closet, I looked back outside and deep into the heart of flames. Thousands of voices had suddenly called out, and had been suddenly silenced. A single tear crawled out of my eye, and crashed down upon the floor. My wife came back, and asked what I was going to do. I kissed her on the cheek and whispered my plan of action into her ear, with little emotion, she nodded in agreement.
She went back inside the broom closet. She calmed the children with her singing, and they joined in too, the muffled lyrics echoing from the closet. I held my breath, and digged my hand deep into the kitchen drawer, I pulled out a sharp knife. I knew what I was going to have to do. I faced the closet, and held on to my tears and thoughts, nothing would distract me. Their singing still muffled by the wooden door, but still beautiful to my ears.
I walked towards the closet, and placed the knife behind my back. I opened the wooden door, and saw my children and wife silence themselves, and look up at my empty face.
"Daddy?" my littlest girl called out.
I did the deed.

Uhhh... What? How does this become a fanfic?

yeah that makes not a lick of sense :confused:

A fan fiction doesn't have to be a continous series of chapters. It's fiction made up by fans. This is obviously a short story.

And I thought it was pretty good. If you guys somehow didn't get it, the husband was going to kill his children, wife and himself. Why you may ask? Because it'd be a lot less painful than the other option, that's why (I'm pretty sure that's it).

That's not why I asked. I hate when people jump to conclusions.

I said that because it was just a mashup of some guy seeing the explosion then killing his family. It's weird, too short, not very interesting, and the character seems a little loopy considering it was his idea.

Ah, yes, I can see how you could of meant that by "Uhh...What? How does this become a fanfic?" If you don't want people jumping to conclusions, be a bit less ambigious.

A fan fiction can be a short story like this one of about 400 words, or a continuing one of several chapters. As long as it is linked to the Fallout game, and I guess this one is just then it can be posted.

Note, the rules of constructive criticism apply, if you have nothing else to contribute it is best not to post.

Having said that, it is quite a good little story of how people can be driven to despair and uncharacteristic behaviour by a catastrophe.

Eh, sorry. x.o

As for constructive criticism...I'm not to sure about the form of this piece. I'm not quite sure what it is about it. Anyone else see what I see?

There's almost nothing here, so there's not much to criticize about.

Can I just say that was actually pretty good.
Next time try to add a little more depth to what is going on, more description on the scenery.

Looks like the forum has a new Stephen King! :icecream:

As for the story. It sent that little feeling of fear or "WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING?!" up my stomach, so I liked it.

This actually grew on me a little so I have a couple things to say:
This short story is horror and disturbing. It is well written and it gets under your skin. Its title is appropriate, but it could have just as easy been called "The Nightmare Arrives" or other such names describing how awful the lives of these people end.
It could be stretched out into a more traditional Fallout fanfic if the father ends up as a ghoul. The part where his glasses are melting gives it a dreamy quality as if this is how our ghoul protagonist remembers this moment. It ends before describing what his "deed" was like for him. Surely his feelings on this memory would be confusing. He mercy kills his family? That would drive a survivor into madness. Perhaps he ends up as a feral ghoul so keep that in mind the next time one is charging you...what sort of memories drove these people insane?
...
Stephen King=reminds me of 'The Mist' which had a similar ending where the father kills everyone. Not easy to stomach...difficult to condone.