64 posts
  • porcupine 8w


    The darkest night
    This faintest light
    That strangest sight

    The odour of yesterday
    This stench of decay
    That smell of dismay

    The warning was ignored
    This morning it poured
    That increased their horde

    The dead had come alive
    This evil must be denied
    That means we must survive

    The backup has been called
    This army will defend it's walls
    That shows we won't take a fall

    The battle was fought hard
    This ended up about fifty yards
    That flag says we're still on guard

    The evil has been defeated
    This event must not be repeated
    That gives us back our freedom

    My attempt at writing about zombies

  • nevermoreending 14w


    Midnight creepers,
    zombie walkers,
    pedals floored!


  • darkmoon696 22w

    Make sure you are ready in a situation like this. You don't want them against you.
    Btw sorry if anyone found it disturbing.
    Have a good day. :)

    #zombies #scary #horror #trapped #love #sad #fear

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    'Look at that, love', I exclaim, pointing at the ocean as it slowly starts to engulf the sun.

    'Every day, we missed this and now, it is the last thing on my mind ’, I say as I put her down.

    In just a few seconds, dark and gloomy vibe takes over the place.

    The scary growls and snarls send a shiver down my spine as I make out there isn't a way but to give in.

    Furious and deadly, they make their way up to my room and pound on me.

    Blood splattered everywhere as I feel every bite they take off of me.

    Well, at least I made sure she departed peacefully.


  • suddenlyme 30w


    my feelings for are exactly like a zombie; I killed them and they have returned from the dead

  • cuper751 32w


    My wounds are deep
    It cant be healed
    Walking with my stitches opened
    Ostracised because they thought I am freak

  • ritermathai 52w


    As long as earth there is, it spins
    As long as sun there is, it rises n sets
    As long as life there is, we breathe,
    As long as our hearts beat on, we love
    As we move forward in life, we fall
    As we lie on the ground, we cry
    As some stays fallen, and crawl along
    Us some, struggle up and starts  limping

    As we reach out to new hearts, open windows
    As we see online through others' displays
    As we open doors to hearts we don't know
    Alas we set traps for our own hearts to burn
    Yes we seek validation in faces known not
    As we set aside moments, bury face in screens
    Us in a strange phenomenon, sense it makes not
    Why are hearts held so far, and so close the phones

  • sakinahosennee 99w

    She is an old soul living among zombies


  • namia28 109w


    Don't look for zombies
    Underneath your bed
    Or behind dark curtains
    Or tall shadows
    Don't look for them in graveyards
    Or abandoned houses
    But look, look at them ordinary faces
    The white collars and the blue ties
    That spokesperson's mouth full of lies
    The seeds of discord that they scatter
    Gets you busy fighting, too busy for things that matter
    Those are the demons
    The real ones
    They exist on your TV screen
    And in your newspapers
    You see their faces
    Vote for more of them
    And then come back to sing lullaby to your children
    Assure them there's no zombie behind the shadows
    When in reality
    There are far too many of them on our news channels alone
    You can't run
    You can't hide
    But at least you can be aware
    That these are the ones to be scared of
    That zombies and demons do exist
    For real.

  • almashideaway 116w

    Unwanted thoughts, that I keep on killing over and over.
    But they keep on crawling from under the stones where I have been burying them.

    Maybe Zombies were all along a metaphor for those unwanted thoughts that we, troubled Humans, keep on trying to kill endlessly, but that truly never die.


  • _rise_ 118w

    The Outbreak

    In a small town...
    The government makes a decision on starting an outbreak due to overpopulation.
    Zombies will be attacking for a week straight, killing the weak and dumb.
    Only the strong will survive.
    So...Will Young arrogant 18 yr old Wrenn be able to keep her friends and family safe while fighting for her own safety...?
    Or will she die trying??

  • twilight_sana 125w


    I am surrounded with clan of zombies
    Unable to predict my inner soul
    Whether I am actually alive or dead

  • paulwrites 129w

    #50words #writersnetwork #readwriteunite #flashfiction #scary #horror #fiction #zombies @parikshagaur903

    50 Words #8

    The beast looked back at her with cold, dead eyes. She had thought maybe there was still a human in there somewhere, but now she wasn't so sure. Even when he reached out to her, his fingers grazing the swell of her breast in curiosity, all she saw was zombie.

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    50 Words #8

    Create a scene/story in exactly 50 words

  • paulwrites 129w

    @parikshagaur903 #onesentencehorror #horror #zombies #flashfiction #writing #scary

    One Sentence Horror #3

    The zombie had sunk its teeth into his arm, but Jay had done the creature one better by half decapitating it, causing its head to hang over its back, attached only by bloody sinew and fragile bone.

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    One Sentence Horror #3

  • paulwrites 132w

    @_suruchi_ @eye_of_iris @stark19 @surreal @parikshagaur903 @ritika_ #zombies #horror #paranormal #adventure #livingdead #books #novel #serial #series #fiction #epic #cruise #ship #ocean #sea #zombieapocalypse #walkingdead #writersnetwork #writing #amwriting

    Zombie Drift

    Previous episodes #zombiedrift

    13: Peter, Aida, & Prisha

    Peter Evers stood at the door inside the starlit lounge. Being on the main deck it afforded him a view of the ship's activity. People seemed to be rushing nowhere fast. Through the glass he caught snippets of conversation. Things about "dead people in water" and "speedboats", and "the guy just slid down the chain." With the last, it made him think of his bodyguard Ethan. In his mind it was just the showboat kind of thing anyone hired by his dad would do. While he didn't wish ill on the man, he thought as soon as he could he was sneaking out of here and getting out from under Ethan's restrictions. There was nothing worse than being seventeen and stuck under an adult's supervision.

    He turned to see what the girls were doing. Prisha had stopped crying some time ago, and the lounge singer Aida had turned the TV above the bar back on. Images splayed across the screen showing carnage everywhere. Most of it were single shot live feeds as if the cameraman had strapped his video to a tree and ran for it. What was left behind was a view of the street, zombies walking, crawling, sliding, lumbering, trying their best to find live food that wasn't escaping. The images were bad enough, but it was the sound that sent chills up his spine. Screams, moans, the crunch and munch of flesh and bone as zombies feasted, sometimes on each other.

    He couldn't understand why the girls were torturing themselves by watching it all. Peter guessed it was like driving by a fatal traffic accident. You knew it was horrible, and people were dead, but you just couldn't tear your eyes away. He tried his best not to be drawn to it that way. Other things bothered him. Like what was going on board. It was obvious something was happening with all the flurry of activity. Were the zombies here too? He hated being locked up and out of the way, which is what Ethan had done with him while he went off running to wherever.

    He looked back at the girls again. They could handle themselves, he thought. How hard could it be to keep others out the bar? With that he decided he wanted out. He wasn't going to be stuck in here one second longer, he didn't care how hot he thought Prisha was. He put his hand on the door handle and prepared to open it when something smashed against it.

    He jumped back from the frantic face at the glass. It was a man with jet black hair and wild grey eyes. He was trying to look through the door and when his eyes saw Peter they grew wider and he began to pound on the frame.

    "Aida!" he shouted. "Aida! Let me in!"

    Peter looked at Aida. She had heard the shouts and beating on the door frame. Turning from the TV, she frowned. Something in her face told Peter she wasn't ready for this. Whatever this was.

    "Aida! Tell this little shit to open the door!" He began to thump his palm flat against the glass. The door itself shook.

    Aida sighed. "Open the door, Peter."

    The boy looked at her as if to ask, are you sure? When she nodded grimly, he shrugged and threw the latch.

    The man outside didn't waste time. He shoved the door open, nearly knocking Peter down, and headed acoss the floor of the lounge towards the girls. 'Trying to lock me out, Aida? Again?"

    "No one is trying to lock you out, Jerome. You chose not to return last night. Guess you found some other room to sleep."

    He grinned. "It was a good room too. Wish you could have been there. Well, on second thought, maybe not." He eyes caught sight of Prisha. " Now, you however...."

    Aida slapped him. "You pig."

    He seemed unaffected and laughed. "You know everybody is going crazy on deck over something. The three of us could get crazy on something too, you know?" He turned to glance at Peter. "Sorry kid, there isn't room for two guys." Then he smiled at the girls again. "Lock the door." When Peter didn't immediately lock it, the man glared at him with dangerous, almost empty eyes. If Ethan was here this situation would be different, Peter thought. But he wasn't here. He'd left them here alone to face their own survival. "Lock the door," the man said again, returning his psychotic gaze to the now frightened girls. He listened for the sound of the latch clicking and then smiled. He undid the cufflinks on his shirt and began to take it off. "It's okay," he said. "About time you took your punishment, Aida." His slid his belt out of his pants. "Now which one of you likes to get restrained?" He looked at Prisha, staring hard into her dark terrified eyes, and licked his lips. He took a step towards her.

    The chair hit the back of his head so hard the wood shattered against his skull. Peter held the remains of it in his hands as Jerome dropped to the floor with a resounding thud.

    "So like, who did I just knock out?" the teenager asked, after they had tied Jerome's hands behind his back with his own belt. "I can hit him again if it would help."

    Aida frowned and nodded at the unconscious man. "He's Jerome Stipe. My sad excuse for a boyfriend."

    Peter looked up. "Shit lady, i think you need a new boyfriend. My bodyguard Ethan is available I think."

    Aida laughed a little, as he was the same man she'd tried to get to dance with her during last night's performance. "We'll probably need a bodyguard when Jerome wakes up."

    "I think we should call security," Prisha suggested. "I know he's your guy and all, but...."

    Aida had already picked up the phone and dialed the number. She had to be strong when she had the support of others. Last time she'd called security on him she had been alone and earned a couple cracked ribs for it.

    While the Nigerian talked to security, the Indian girl walked over to Peter, who was making sure the prisoner's belt was as tight as he could get it. "Thank you," Prisha said.

    "No problem. I couldn't let him hurt either of you."

    "I was very scared," she confessed.

    He nodded and tried to be cool, but he felt the truth was better. "Yeah, me too." He looked up at her and smiled. "I saw Ethan headbutt a guy unconscious before, but I thought i should use a chair."

    She smiled back. "Good decision. Why hurt your cute head, right?"

    Peter raised an eyebrow at the mention of cute, but when she turned her face away in embarassment he decided she didn't mean anything by it. She was just being grateful.
    "Well, here's hoping he don't wake up soon," he said getting to his feet. "I'd hate to break another chair."

    Prisha offered a smile. "Well, thanks for protecting us. Not everyone would have done that."

    Peter was trying to think of a zippy one-liner to say that would make him sound like an action hero at the movies, when Aida said, "I can't get the phones to work. Someone will have to go get security."

    They all looked towards the door. There was still a lot of activity outside. People dashed by running in both directions, but most seemed to be heading towards the rear of the ship, peering over railings as they went.
    It wasn't the same panic as what was occuring on television, but Peter felt nervous about it just the same. He looked at Aida. "I think we should move Jerome somewhere and then all of us go. I got a feeling it's not going to be too safe alone."

    "There's my dressing room. It's a glorified broom closet really."

    "Can it be locked from outside?"


    "Well shit," Peter mumbled.

    Prisha walked over to the glass door and picked something up. "How about this?"
    In her hands, she held a wooden doorstop, obviously used to hold the entrance open during peak hours.

    "That will work. Come on Aida, help me get him back there."

    As they both bent down to hoist Jerome's limp body up, Aida asked, "Where did you hit him?"

    Peter looked at her strangely. "In the back of the head. Why?"

    Aida looked at both her companions with a look of bewilderment. "Because there's a chunk out of his arm."

    (To Be Continued...)

    Zombie Drift 2019. Paul D Aronson. All Rights Reserved.

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    Zombie Drift 13
    Peter, Aida, & Prisha

  • paulwrites 135w

    @_suruchi_ @eye_of_iris @stark19 @surreal @parikshagaur903 @ritika_ #zombies #horror #paranormal #adventure #livingdead #zombiedrift #books #novel #serial #series #fiction #epic #cruise #ship #ocean #sea #zombieapocalypse #speedboat #fight #action #rescue #walkingdead #writersnetwork

    Hello readers, I just wanted to give a hopeful shout out that Zombie Drift is returning. Been thinking about it lately, and it seems to be making a surge in popularity on Wattpad, so I've just completed the next chapter which i hope to get edited and posted soon. I thought I'd make this little announcement in case you need to go back and refresh your memory on where the story stopped. If you haven't read it at all then you can check out hashtag #zombiedrift and get up to speed. ��

    And if you are on wattpad, please vote for it there and help it become a top ten story! Currently it is number 78 in horror fiction �� That's pretty good numbers as there are 3000 stories in that category!

    So hang on friends and readers, the action continues as we follow the horror adventure through the eyes of international passengers trapped on a cruise ship during the zombie apocalypse. ��

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    Zombie Drift Returns

  • paulwrites 135w

    @_suruchi_ @eye_of_iris @stark19 @surreal @parikshagaur903 @ritika_ #zombies #horror #paranormal #adventure #livingdead #books #novel #serial #series #fiction #epic #cruise #ship #ocean #sea #zombieapocalypse #speedboat #fight #action #rescue #walkingdead #hispanic #african #boats #lifeboat #writersnetwork #writing #amwriting

    Zombie Drift

    Previous Episodes #zombiedrift

    Twelve: Camelia

    Camelia Cray opened her eyes to the bright morning sun. For a brief second she thought she had been dreaming about the disaster. First the containment leak, then the explosion and toxic chemicals dispersed into the air. Had it really infected everyone in the fallout? And if so, how did it suddenly affect populations in other states? She blinked her eyes again, the sun almost seeming to burn her retinas. The brightness didn’t just bring pain to her eyes, but made her aware of the searing pain in her shoulder. With a hand she reached for it and her fingers came away with blood. With the blood came sound. Not of her own anguish, but of people shouting, screaming. Rising above the shouts was the voice of the man who had saved her and her boss. The Hispanic. She thought his name was Edward or something. She couldn’t remember. “Turn us around!” he was shouting.

    She propped herself up on one elbow and tried to sit up. Pain shot through the injured shoulder and she wondered what in the hell the military bastards had shot her with. The speedboat turned in the water. Vertigo played hell with her and she almost threw up with the motion. She’d never been on a boat of any kind, so the motion of the waves did not suit well with her stomach. The craft surged forward and the motion sent her off her elbow and and flat on her back, the wind getting knocked out of her in the process. The speedboat hit something and there was a crunch, like the cracking of wood except sharper.
    “Grab my oar,” she heard Edward shout as the craft decelerated in a swift motion. Someone jumped into the boat and hit the deck with a groan. For a second she thought a zombie had flung itself in an effort to get to her. But then she saw the white uniform and orange life vest. She looked in the direction he had come and saw the side of an immense ship. It looked like one of those huge cruise liners that sailed to the Caribbean and back. She clambered to her feet and the very space she stood in seemed to turn. A wave of dizziness threatened to swarm over her. The sailor grabbed her. “Whoa there,” he said. “I think we both need to sit down.”

    And then she saw it. The truth of what she had woken up into. The speedboat was beside a sinking vessel. A lifeboat, by the looks of it, as it was tethered by a huge chain to the larger cruise ship. Looking up, she could see passengers peering over the side, some shouting warnings, others just screaming hysterically.

    She noticed the guy in the lifevest looking at her curiously. “Are you bit?” he asked.

    She shook her head. Her mouth was parched and dry but she managed to answer. “No,” she replied, “shot,” though it came out in a slow slur sounding like “shawt.”

    The shipmate sighed in relief. She could see the cruise line logo on his white, but bloody shirt, and half wondered if maybe he'd been one to get bit. "Get us out of here!" he suddenly screamed to Edward.

    The towering rescuer appeared not to hear him. He had one hand on the wheel of the speedboat, another on an oar he was extending to the troubled lifeboat shouting at another man to grab it. This man, in a garish Hawaiian shirt, grabbed it and allowed Edward to pull him across to safety. But the man wasn't the only one to come across. A zombie had latched on to his legs and was trying to prevent his escape. The man kicked the creature in its face and its head reared back. It did not let go. Even when the man let go of the oar so Edward could swing it at the zombie. The man fell into the boat, rolling onto his back and tried to dislodge the living dead who was now trying to get its mouth at his calf. Three solid punches to the face seemed to slow it down, but its mission was relentless. Bite someone. Anyone. Bite them now.

    Suddenly there was a loud pop and the zombie's eye exploded, followed by bits of skull erupting through an new exit in the back of the creature's head. Dr. Wills stood there, a smoking pistol in his hand. Small enough to conceal, yet large enough to take out a target.

    "Where the hell did you...." Edward began, but the doctor was already turning away, taking hold of the wheel again and throwing the throttle open.

    "Hold on!" Wills shouted and the sudden surge of power nearly threw Edward off balance. He caught himself and then turned to the speedboat's newest passengers.

    "Anybody hurt?" he asked.

    The crewman, though dashed in blood, shook his head. Then he looked warily at Ethan. "He got bit."

    "That true?" Edward asked, now eyeing Ethan with suspicion.

    Ethan nodded. He showed him his arm. The teeth marks were visible but there wasn't much blood. "Lucky for me zombies don't have good dental hygiene. Barely broke the skin."

    Edward nodded grimly. "Once we get on this ship, you need to be checked out. I've seen enough horror flicks to know how more zombies are made."

    "Fair enough," Ethan said, noticing Dr. Wills was taking them around the bow of the ship in an effort to get to them to the other side. Ethan looked over at Camelia. "You shot?"

    "Yeah. Army bastards got me."

    "You look like you're losing a lot of blood. Is there a first aid kit onboard?" He didn't wait for an answer. He took off his shirt and wrapped it around her shoulder and upper arm. He pulled it tightly and Camelia grimaced. Tieing it off, Ethan gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry, my nursing skills are lacking. You guys look like the doctors."

    "Not that kind," she replied, before Wills turned and gave her a hard look.

    "Yeah Doc," Edward said. "Since when does the medical profession issue guns?"

    Wills focused on his steering of the boat and said nothing.

    Edward shook his head. "It would have been helpful if you'd used that gun earlier."

    The doctor didn't look at him. "I was saving it for myself," he muttered.

    No one said anything for a few moments. Ethan looked up as they came along the port side of the St. Fitzgerald. Apparently, the spectators of the lifeboat attack, had crossed the deck to follow the speedboat and were now at the port railing. Others had joined them as well. He spotted the asian guy and teenager who had first alerted him to zombies in the water. Right beside them the man he had been looking for in the first place. The Captain. 'Hell of a way to get the Cap's attention,' he thought.

    "Thank you," Camelia said from beside him. Her voice was weak, but she was a strong girl, holding herself together despite the blood loss.

    He turned to her. "For what?"

    "The tourniquet," she replied, nodding towards her wounded shoulder. "It looked like a nice shirt," she added.

    "I hated it."

    She grinned. "Who wouldn't?" Then, looking around them, a thought occured to her. "Hey, how come there's no zombies on this side?"

    Edward had been watching the lowering of a lifeboat, in which two uniformed crew members sat. Now he looked at Camelia.

    "Good question, but if TV shows are right, I'd say they have a pack mentality. Travelling and acting in groups."

    "Like a bee hive?" she asked.

    "Perhaps something like that."

    "Well, i hope they are just worker bees then."

    Ethan looked around the speedboat. He could see none of the zombies, and like Camelia it worried him. It was only a matter of time before they figured out their meal had ducked around to the other side of the ship. And if the hispanic was right, and there was a pack mentality, what did that mean for any zombies on shore?

    The speedboat came alongside the ship and was met by the lowered lifeboat. "Get the injured on first," one of the crew members said.

    Camelia stood on shaky legs and started to step over. "I guess that would be me," she said, before blacking out again. If not for Edward, she would have toppled into the ocean.

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    Zombie Drift 12: Camelia Cray

  • karma_tenpa 140w

    Zombie love (a horrific love story).

    Ranoldie was an innocent girl who died over someone’s man and she was stabbed and her face cut. She would have had a scar across her face and many enemies had she been a live. She would have graduated to be a successful medical had this not happened. But there she was laying in the very room that she would’ve visited her. Premortom she went to a hoodoo practicianar with a friend and the witch doctor casted a spell that would bring her back from the dead ranoldie didn’t know but her goth friend did.
    When it was time to be cut up ranoldie woke up undead grabbed the ME’s hand and begged him not to cut her open. The ME looked like a a clean shaven stern but handsome school principal. She looked at him admitting him when she wasn’t crying. He got spooked when he saw that Ranoldie was still “alive.” But he saw emotion and actual love in her eyes. Love for him.
    She told him that Jane a life long friend killed her and gashed her eye out leaving her for dead.
    She was a mess with firy red hair all over her face and smeared make up. She asked his name and he said that he was Dave Scully. Dave washed the blood and make off and found out they Ranoldie was beautiful the face of angel. He fell in love with her but he was awkward are women living women. This is his first encounter with the undead. Blindly he took Ranoldie into his embrace and they kissed. This seemed endless until Dave said that he had to do the autopsy. She cried but accepted it hoping that she would make it. He did the whole procedure while holding her hand without her drifting off to sleep. The stitches hurt Ranoldie and he empathized with her. Again after washing her he gave Ranoldie some off his clothes and told him to wait in his office. When he was done for the day Dave when back to the office to do something against nature’s laws. He made love to Ranoldie passionately throughout the night. She found joy and pleasure in this and oddly enough so did he.
    This continued for a week until he had the balls to bring her to his home. Though they had to secret their relationship where she had to stay in his home until he arrived. Ranoldie felt like a pet more than his companion. She still remembers their first times as old lovers. There something romantic about his office.
    Ranoldie went with her beloved to the pool where they made out quietly she whispered that she wanted for them to live in his office. Dave said that it would be better too for their relationship and sold his house out love.
    When they came back to his cramped office beside the autopsy suite he made love to her I the office and in the autopsy room, neglecting his job.
    Once when they made their unnatural love on a table he said that he couldn’t do this anymore. And left her there to cry herself to sleep.
    The next morning she was gone.
    Dave Scully soon for got about her and go married and had children. But she didn’t forget him and stalked him until she felt apart from a broken heart.

  • evaharlowe 142w

    Sick Day

    The explosion of blood on my face was not what initially alarmed me, but where it came from. Across the table, it burst out of my best friend's nose and mouth. Before I could even spring to action to help her, I watched in horrified awe as the same thing happened to the people at the other tables of the outdoor café we were at. Almost simultaneously, their faces burst a bloody red as though there was an invisible madman going around bashing their heads with a baseball bat. I looked down at Sarah and saw that she was slumped over her unfinished Eggs Benedict. On her face, just beneath the surface, were her veins, throbbing and fattening, looking like they were being pushed up to the top, so they could explode. I didn't have to reach down and check her pulse to know she was dead.

    Behind me were explosions of sounds: screams, metal grinding against metal, tires screeching on asphalt. I jumped as two cars slammed into each other ten feet from me. As though in some kind of domino effect, other cars started colliding into each other, too, or ran off the road and crushed pedestrians lying on the ground, or slammed into posts or buildings. Strollers and prams and walkers and joggers were not spared.

    As far as the eye could see, everyone I passed as I ran home had bloody faces, whether they were in a car or not, and the blue veins under their skin throbbed threateningly. They were all dead.

    I still had my best friend's blood on my face. I hadn't had a moment to scream or cry. Around me, the city was a blanket of black smoke and the smell of death. I could hear sirens and people screaming and shouting, so there were those who were still alive. God, I wasn't alone. I had to get home.

    I reached our apartment building and ran up the steps, sprinting down the hall where I shared a flat with my husband Ben. I threw open the door and screamed his name. Every Sunday, I had brunch with Sarah and left my husband in bed because I could never drag him outside before noon. Always I brought him home a sandwich or muffins, which he grudgingly ate because otherwise, he would starve, as I would not be willing to cook for him or make him anything. I would tell him, "You should have woken up on time, buster."

    "Ben!" I shoved my way to our bedroom and stopped at the foot of the bed. Was my husband dead? Had this creeping terror that claimed the lives of countless masses within seconds also snatched my husband away from me? I was frozen, unable to move. I couldn't check. He always slept on his stomach, so I couldn't just walk up there and see if he had the bloody face. I covered my mouth to stifle the scream that was building up from the bottom of my stomach. What would I do without Ben?

    Squeezing my eyes shut, I crept to his side of the bed and with a shaking hand, grabbed his shoulder and turned him over. I prayed to anyone listening, any deity that may possibly exist that my husband was spared from this horror. I cracked open my eyelids first, afraid to open my eyes all the way. The snore that came from him had me falling to my knees and laughing and screaming my relief. It was only then that he stirred and lifted his head. When he saw me on the floor, he jackknifed upward and immediately gathered me in his arms.

    "What happened, Kitty?" he demanded, though his voice sounded so far away, like he was yelling from the other end of a very long pipe. He gave me a shake. "Kitty!"

    I snapped out of my trance and threw my arms around my husband, sobbing on his chest, unable to come up with the words to tell him that the world was over and everybody was dead. He was stroking my hair and shushing me. He said he was going to go to the kitchen and get me some water. I completely lost it and clung to his leg like a madwoman, screaming for him not to leave me.

    "All right, sweetheart," he said, sitting back on the bed and pulling me into his lap where I scrambled like a scared child. "Are you injured? Jesus, you're bleeding. What the hell—"

    "It's not my blood" floated out of my mouth as his hands began to frantically pat my torso for wounds.

    "Kitty, what the fuck happened? Was it a terrorist attack? Biological warfare, what? Tell me!"

    I didn't answer, not even when he shook me.

    He grunted in frustration. "Come on, luv. Let's put on the news, then."

    I clung to him, unwilling to let him go, wrapping my legs around his waist as he walked us over to the living room. He turned on the TV and immediately dropped the remote on the floor. I didn't have to look behind me to see what he was seeing on the screen. "Honey, Anderson Cooper is dead. He's slumped over his news desk," he said in a dazed voice, as if he couldn't quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. "Don Lemon is right next to him, though. He's still reporting. Alive."

    He dropped his weight onto the sofa, as if his legs could no longer support him, and yet he continued to stroke my hair. "The president, the vice-president are dead. Nancy Pelosi is the president now and she's expected to address the nation in a few minutes."

    "Look outside, Ben," I croaked, managing to find my voice. "Please, look outside."

    On the television, Don Lemon was saying that the experts were calling the pathogen "The Doomsday Virus."

    "And this just in. Viewer, if you are still alive and inside your home, do not-I repeat-do NOT go outside. If you have any of the deceased inside with you and they aren't yet active, put them outside as quickly as possible. Do it now. Barricade your doors and windows as best as you can. Reports say the dead are reanimating and attacking the living. There's no other way to say it: they are trying to eat us."

  • autumnkivisto 144w

    Built for your sins

    A serum that was meant to grant immortality, is turning people into zombies. The earth is left in the hands of doctors, who are trying to find a cure, by studying those who are immune. The only thing they all happen to have in common, is they all suffer from mental illness.
    This means if the world ended, the mentally insane would run the earth. It would be left up to them to save it now, or create a new world full of chaos.

  • mkandres 145w

    I sit and stare at the gate
    Awaiting unsuspecting prey
    Whom shall I devour tonight
    In this delicious fog of gray?

    Zombies are misunderstood
    No, we don't enjoy the fright
    Sustenance is what we crave
    No matter wrong or right.