Archive for November, 2010

Zombie story

Posted in Uncategorized on November 13, 2010 by Chris Bowsman

I’ve now seen the first two episodes of The Walking Dead, and it seems like a perfect time to publish this little flash piece:

Zombie Story

“Brains…” moans the zombie on my television. I change the channel. Another zombie. I sigh heavily and walk over to the collection of DVDs: Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, Let Sleeping Corpses Lie, Resident Evil… nothing but fucking movies about zombies.

“I watch too damn much TV, anyway,” I say, and turn to the bookshelf. Again, nothing but zombie titles, which is strange, because I don’t even remember buying books about zombies.

There is a crash upstairs, so I go up to investigate. It sounded like it came from my son’s room. I knock on his door, which is only half closed. I look in, and see him stumbling around, knocking things off his shelf. He turns to face me, and I’m a little surprised to see his skin has turned gray. I look closer and notice his eyes aren’t focused together, and his jaw is hanging slack. One of his ears is missing as well.

“Are you a zombie?” I ask. He moans and stumbles towards me. Uncertain of what to do, I exit the room and shut the door, which he tries to walk through. When he does it again, I decide closing the door is sufficient defense. I look around for my wife, as she normally knows much more than I about what’s going on around our home.

“Honey?” I say, raising my voice a little. “Did you know Junior is a zombie?” I hear another crash downstairs, and have a bad feeling about it. I call for my wife again, and again I receive no response.

Descending the stairs slowly, it occurs to me I should find some sort of weapon. I reach the bottom, and look around the room, and decide upon a fireplace poker. There is another crash, this time I can tell it’s coming from the office. I raise my eyebrow and the poker and head for the office.

“Honey?” I say again, this time with more apprehension. My wife stumbles from the office with the same slackened expression on her face as Junior’s. I say her name, but there is no visible response from her. She merely keeps shuffling toward me, step-drag, step-drag. I turn and run, closing as many doors as possible on my way out of the house.

Once I’m outside, I hear more moaning and crashing. Looking around, I see that everyone in the neighborhood has become a zombie. Zombies to the left, zombies to the right… everywhere I look, nothing but zombies, zombies, and more fucking zombies. Unable to stomach another second of the horror, I stab myself in the face with the fireplace poker, dying instantly.