A.G. Flowers

Good Morning Adventurers, and what a fine morning it has been. There was a thunderstorm last night that just rumbled on throughout the night and I could not get enough of the lightning that would flash through the window every few minutes or so. I love me a good storm, but I like me a good spooky story as well. My students wanted me to write a zombie story with them during our creative writing club meeting, and that’s what I did. So here is one of the few spooky stories that I’ll end up writing this month.

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Oh, I don’t really have a title for this short story yet, and I might just leave it that way because the story is supposed to be told from the eyes of one of the many survivors in a world that has fallen to the horde. I hope that you enjoy this fun little story, I know my students were absolutely horrified by it. (Mainly because of what I wrote and not because it was actually scary.)

I try to raise my gun but my arms refuse. All I can do is just stand. Stand and watch as they spill through the door. My son stands at the top of the stairs, firing his gun. Once, twice, then a hand grabs his ankle. He never stops firing even as they pull him under the weight of their bodies.

He never screams and dies when he places the final round in his mouth.

A car horn blares outside, please let that be her. If there is any hope left in this world, please keep her safe. The horn goes off three more times; just like we practiced and then the tires squeal peeling away from the fallen safe house.

A cold, tired breath escapes my lungs as the house quiets down to sounds of the dead feasting on my son.

“Honey, come on, we have to leave.”

No, no, no. She should be in the car far from here.

“I couldn’t leave you behind,” she hisses as she sneaks into the foyer from the kitchen, “Kiara took off with the kids, so come on.”

Strength returns to my legs and I take my first step.
Then my second and third.

Why did she comeback? Why for someone as lost as me? She is the best wife that I could have ever asked for.

She screams as I drop my gun in my sprint towards her.
I didn’t want this, it shouldn’t have been her…but I’m so hungry.

She dies with my already forgotten name on her lips as I rip out her throat.

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So there it is, my little short story about a man slowly turning into the undead. The challenge that I usually set for the students is a timed quickwrite where I present to them the topic that they had picked at the beginning of the year. Then I give them about twenty to twenty-five minutes to write something based on that topic. So that how this little story came to exist. I hope that you enjoyed this little piece of work in my short post today. Have a blessed day today Adventurer and never stop seeking out that next adventure.

—A.G.F.