Step 1: has a character who dies from poisoning
Step 2: Add this word: zombie
Step 3: add this word: roof
---------------------------------------------
Helga lay on the carpet, feeling the satisfying scratchiness on her calves and thighs. It wasn't as bad as she expected, dying from the poison of a zombie infection. Granted, she had only been bitten 20 minutes ago, so it would likely feel worse before all was said and done. But it wasn't nearly as bad as she had feared, and there was a certain comfort that came from the knowledge that one wasn't going away forever.
Having not been religious in her lifetime, she had assumed that once you die, you're gone. You're worm food. There is no looking down from heaven or haunting a mansion or getting reincarnated as a yak or future D-list celebrity. When you die, there's nothing left but a body in the ground, or ashes scattered over that beach in Cape Cod that you loved because that was the summer you fit into a size 6 bikini.
But this new situation, created by the zombie virus that was spreading down the East Coast, meant that she, as a recently attacked living human, would soon continue her life, or rather, her death, as a zombie.
She heard footsteps on the roof just then, a slow lumbering shtooop shtooop, directly above. No need to be scared, she thought. Just another zombie like me. And just like that, these creatures that she had learned to fear became a comfort. Creepy, but a comfort. After all, she had nothing left to fear from them. Once her transformation was complete—she wasn't sure how long that would take, but she assumed she'd know when it was done—she would join her fellow zombies in the hunt for human brains. Which didn't appeal to her yet, but she guessed it might taste like the unbreaded calamari.
No comments:
Post a Comment