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Something I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It was received pretty well, but most of the kids in my class are literary idiots. I'm just going to throw a few paragraphs and see how it goes: 
 

His dreams were always the same. He was a toddler again, with his mother pushing him in a shopping cart at the supermarket. The dream was hazy, with a white halo around his vision that obstructed him from seeing anything clearly. With his pudgy legs dangling out the child seat, he examined his blurred surroundings. Around him were glorious rows of delicious processed food: bags of chips, soda, and food condiments. As he reached out to grab the flavorful delectables, his mother continued to push him from the glittering goods, all of them floating by him and barely within his grasp. Finally, when the cart stopped at the cashier, Lucas noticed a glowing phenomenon bestowed before him: the Mr. Doodles chocolate bar. Though he couldn’t remember the specific taste, he recalled the sweetness and ecstasy that he had loved as a child.

With his mouth watering and fingers quivering with anticipation, he leaned forward from his seat in the shopping cart, his hands spread wide. Suddenly he heard a moaning in the background, and felt a sudden jerk as his mom pulled him back. Confused, he turned to look at her, now suddenly facing a decaying face with gnarled rows of teeth and patches of skin missing, revealing her brittle jaw muscles.

Lucas’ eyes shot open, as he realized he was back in his bed, which was deep underground with no exposure to light. As he rolled over to look at the clock, he realized it was almost 10; he had slept in again. Groaning, he threw his head back onto his pillow, wanting to go back to his dream and not deal with his daily routine. Outside he could hear the ominous moaning and began thinking of how he could begin the day. With a deep sigh, he pivoted his hips on the edge of his bed and swung his legs over the edge.  He casually slipped on his hiking boots and made his way across his dark, damp room. Turning on the gas-powered stove, he looked to his food supply, hoping to find something exotic and tasty in the cardboard box. Unfortunately the contents were the same as always: cans of baked beans. Opening a can, he poured the creamy, bland innards into the cooking pot.

Too lazy to stir the beans, he remembered he still had to take care of the moaning menace outside. Reaching across his bed, he grabbed his trusty Louisville slugger. Though the bat was chipped heavily and bloodstained, it had been the only weapon that had never failed him. Knives got caught in flesh, sword blades would break from handles, and chainsaws required a constant source of gasoline. The bat was simple but direct, capable of breaking bones and cracking skulls with one straight swing.

Grumbling as he made his way up the stairs of the underground mausoleum, he rolled the bat on his palm, annoyed with his daily responsibilities, but aware they were crucial for his wellbeing. He pushed the steel door open with the end of his bat, not expecting the piercing glare of the sun, which caused him to squint and shield his eyes. 

good job.
 
Some more would be appreciated.

Goddamnit, Lucas. You forgot the sunglasses again, he thought to himself as his eyes adjusted to the abrupt change of light exposure. As he got used to extreme brightness, he examined the perimeter of his area, looking for the source of the moaning. About 15 meters in front of the door, what used to be a middle-aged man, dressed in a dirty, but black sharp-looking, pinned striped suit, was caught in one of Lucas’ bear traps. Lucas had set up these traps in a semicircle around the mausoleum entrance as a safety precaution, knowing there was an off chance a zombie could wander in the graveyard. As he looked around at the grisly tombstones that surrounded him, he thought of how everyone from the group criticized him for choosing such a ghastly safe house. They had said the cemetery was filled with dead bodies, and that he was sleeping with the zombies and they would all burst out of their graves.

            “Idiots,” he muttered to himself. The bodies buried here were already beyond decomposition, as their muscles had decayed years ago, making any movement from these limbs impossible.

            “Who’s laughing now?” he chuckled, as everyone had moved on to the church as a haven, which he recently noticed was broken into, with its windows shattered and door shattered inwards. His quiet laughter turned into a sigh as he realized he was alone again.

            The zombie, who was previously focused on tugging its leg out of trap, finally noticed Lucas approaching him. With a snarl, it dived towards him, forgetting that his ankle was caught and falling to his knees. As the zombie slowly attempted to stand up, Lucas observed that the dried blood speckled across its face ended near his neck, leaving the suit a little dirty but otherwise spotless.

            “Nice suit,” Lucas said as he readied the bat behind his head. The zombie looked up to Lucas and gave a final cry, exposing his jagged teeth and rotting tongue. With a swift, skillful swing, Lucas struck the directly across the side of its head, snapping its neck instantly and sending its jawbone flying across the graveyard about 10 meters away, leaving a trail of dark blood as it soared across the air. Still with his bat in the air, as if he were posing for a baseball ad, Lucas watched the zombie slumped back down, face first into the dirt. He never got used to watching these things “die” again, as it left a slight chill throughout his body. Tossing the bat aside, he kneeled down to the trap. With a grunt, he loosened the rusty trap and pulled the zombie’s ankle out, releasing a slow and supernatural trickle of blood from the flesh. Grabbing the creature by its collar, he began to drag it across the graveyard. He noticed this one was slightly heavier than the others, most likely because it had “turned” more recently and had internal organs still intact. As he reached the edge of the Pit, he looked at the massive grave he had dug for these monsters. He could no longer see the bottom of the Pit, as it was littered with decomposing bodies he had dumped in there.

As he looked down at the zombie he had just exterminated, he could not help by admire its suit. Deciding the jacket and vest would look better on him, he removed it from the zombie and slipped it over his own dirty button down with a mischievous grin. The two-piece was a little loose, but he was glad he could change his attire for once. Preparing to toss the body into the Pit, he looked into the mass of dead bodies, and noticed a pale delicate hand sticking out from the pile. Staring at the hand, he noticed the rusty ring on one of its feminine fingers. With a shudder, he shook his head and tossed the body into the pile, throwing it on top of the ringed hand.  

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he scooped the drippy meal and shoveled it into his mouth, turning off his taste buds in order to swallow the nasty, slippery mess. Looking around at his dimly light room, he began to think about his reoccurring dream. Though the chips and soda seemed endlessly tasteful, he could not stop thinking of the glowing chocolate bar that always seemed out of his reach. Closing his eyes, his tried to imagine he was eating the Mr. Doodles bar instead of this disgusting can of beans that he had eaten for the past 10 years. Unable to replace the soupy, squishy texture with a satisfying crunch of chocolate, he shook his head and tossed the pot of burnt beans aside. Suddenly he was thinking of the delicate hand in the Pit, feeling a sense of despair and desperation growing in his chest.

“F*ck this,” Lucas cried out, standing up and grabbing his bat. Kicking open the steel door, he left his underground home, leaving the door open as he marched out of the graveyard. As he made his way to the main street, he recalled a Eazy-Mart a few blocks West of the graveyard. As he opened the gate, he peeked out, noticing a few undead scattered around the streets, walking aimlessly while dragging their feet lazily.

As his breathing speed increased rapidly, he tried to remember the last time he had left the graveyard in search of food. It had been almost 4 months since he went hunting. His chest throbbing, his fingers tingled with excitement, Lucas exhaled one last time before stepping out.

With his boots beating against the pavement, he quickly caught the attention of the zombies nearby. As one turned to him, its face caught a clean swing to the face, sending teeth flying and knocking it to its back. Lucas noticed another one in front of him that began to run towards him, it arms stretched out and mouth opened wide. As Lucas came within feet of the zombie, it lunged forward with a speed only seen from the desperate and hungry. Lucas quickly slid to the left, bringing his bat low to the ground and swinging in an upward arch, sweeping the undead clean off its feet. Lucas quickened his pace, as he heard more zombies had begun to follow his trail, their fleshy feet pounding closely behind. Suddenly at the horizon, he saw the Eazy-Mart awaiting his arrival. The ‘M’ was missing from the sign and the ‘T’ was upside down, but he knew if he wanted a Mr. Doodles bar, it would have to be there.