As promised, I have a zombie short story that I wrote. I did this a few months back for a little writing contest. I didn't win, but I still like the story. Tell me what you think!
Oh, and just a warning, there is some profanity and uh, grossness. Enjoy :)
CONSUMING FIRE
I don't care how many brains you've eaten; rising from the dead isn't an experience that's easily forgotten. It's cold and hollow and it kind of smells like grape soda. That's how it was for me, anyway. Every zombie has a different story, all equally unpleasant. But in order to understand my reanimation, you have to hear it from the beginning. I started out as a guy in love and somehow ended up as a monster with an insatiable hunger for vital organs.
It was very cliche, very horror movie-esque. New girl came to school, all shy and pretty. She had blue eyes and cute little dimples when she smiled. I was always a sucker for dimples. Everybody was crowding around her, trying to befriend her, but only succeeding in making her more uncomfortable. Her smile began to slowly deflate as the day progressed, resulting in more of a grimace at the end of the day.
At lunch, my best friend Tofer clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Dude, she's hot," he told me, waggling his blond eyebrows. I snorted. Like I didn't have eyes to see for myself. Didn't matter, though, she was already so worn out that if I approached her she would just brush me off.
The bell to dismiss us to our last class rang, shrill and piercing, and I unenthusiastically trudged to my history class. The new girl wasn't in a single one of my classes. She was probably in all of the smart kid classes that I declined. I wanted my senior year to be easy and relaxed. Then, I got to the classroom and there she was. Slumped in one of the plastic blue chairs. Right next to my desk.
I tacked on a lazy grin and took my seat. I didn't look directly at her, but I could see out of my peripherals that her eyes were following me. That ignited a sense of satisfaction that I kept hidden from my features. I was pretty good at that, it was part of reeling girls in. Couldn't get all goofy or they would lose interest. She didn't talk to me right away, and I made no moves to talk to her. It was all about opportunities, I just had to find the right one.
The girl yawned and ran a hand through her thick brown hair. Her eyelids were drooping and it was obvious that she was dangerously close to falling asleep. I leaned over towards her desk, and in a low and deep whisper I told her, "The second you put your head down she'll make you scrape the gum off of the bottom of the desks."
She scowled and her eyes opened all the way again. They weren't just blue, they were a, electrifying baby blue. Reminded me of the sky. "Thanks," she said. "I'm, like, a germophobe so I would probably throw up."
I chuckled slowly. "First one's free."
"I'm Stella."
"Carson."
That was all of the conversation that day, but it was a good start, because when she introduced herself her dimples materialized. I loved dimples.
How the rest happened, I didn't even know. She asked me for help in history a few times, she borrowed my pencil, she gave me her number. Next thing I knew, we were on the phone for hours every night. We'd talk until one of us fell asleep. Then, we were hanging out at school, kissing in between classes. Started holding hands in the hallway, going on dates. Yeah, that really threw everyone off. Everyone knew that I didn't date. Ever. But Stella, Stella was different. I was going to tell her that, too, but she wasn't at school that day. And when I started thinking about it, I realized that she hadn't even sent me a text message that morning.
After school, I walked to her house thinking maybe she was sick. Good boyfriends checked on their girlfriends when they were sick, right?
When I knocked on her door, her mother answered. She smiled all wide and pretty like Stella. She always seemed so delighted to see me. Stella told me that her mom loved me, said I was so polite and sweet.
"Is Stella here?" I asked.
"She's not home from school yet," she replied, crinkling her brow. "But she usually is home by this time."
"She wasn't at school today, ma'am."
Her lips pursed. "She wasn't?"
Something inside of me turned cold like it always did when I knew with utmost certainty that something was wrong. I got that feeling the moment my dad walked out of our front door the day he died. I knew then just like I did in that moment.
Not Stella, I pleaded in my mind. Not my Stella.
I quickly dug out my cell phone and dialed her number. It rang once, twice, three times then went to voicemail. I cursed, not caring if Stella's mom heard it. My heart was racing behind my ribcage, threatening to burst through. There was a faint buzzing in my ears that intensified with each passing second.
"Stella!" I called, but she didn't even react. I shouted louder, but it seemed the only person that heard me was one of the cloaked people. He turned towards me and I saw the most frightening thing in my life. The guy's lip was pulled behind his teeth, revealing glimmering white incisors the length of my pinky.
Fangs.
I didn't think. I charged at the creep full-force and barrelled into him. He didn't budge. Hitting him felt like colliding with a brick wall and I was positive I broke more than one bone. I was so blasted with adrenaline and endorphins in that moment, though, that I hopped right back on my feet and bared my own admittedly less intimidating teeth. This guy wasn't fazed and neither was the rest of the cloaked figures as they broke from the circle and descended on me.
Good, I thought. Keep the freaks away from Stella.
My eyes darted to her. She stood staring at me, face paled. When our eyes met, I saw tears bubbling to the surface. "Stop!" She demanded. Then to me she said, "You should not be here, Carson." And I knew she was serious because she only ever called me "Car."
"But master," said the cloaked dude that I rammed into. His voice was elegant, like silk sliding over my skin. I shivered because that thought was terrifying. What were these things? Surely they weren't vampires. Those were just stupid made up creatures. And they didn't do rituals or come out in the day. Right? "He is the perfect sacrifice."
"No," she replied sternly. Her full lips stretched into a thin, white line and her eyes narrowed at the guy. "He isn't virginal."
"Stella, what the hell is going on? Are you the leader of this-this fucking cult?"
"You can't interrupt when we're in the middle of a ritual, Carson! Goddamn, this is when they are hungriest!"
"What are you talking about?" My voice was definitely teetering on the line of hysteria. There was no way this was Stella. Not my Stella.
One of the tears that had been brimming in her eyes swelled and spilled down her cheek. "Carson, these are
Upir. I am an Upir."
My jaw dropped.
"Master," said the same fucking Upir. "His blood smells pure." He sniffed again. "Sweet."
Why were they calling her master? What the hell was an Upir? Was I dreaming? "Stella?"
One of the cloaked figures stepped closer to me. Stella's eyes flashed a deep crimson color and her voice came out deep and gravelly as she commanded him to stop. I about pissed my pants.
"The Upir," she explained. "are like vampires. They are born with two souls. When they die, they're lesser soul remains in the body and gives them a craving for blood." I didn't say anything. What was there to say? I was absolutely certain, now, that I was dreaming. "I'm the oldest Upir in existence, therefore I can very easily control my urges. In fact, I'm pretty human. I just control these guys. But you can't come during a ritual. Carson, I-I'm sorry."
"Sorry? Stella, I don't know what's going on right now. I thought you liked me?"
"I do, Car. I really do." She was crying freely now, something I didn't know vampires could do. The salty tears made her eyes even more vivid.
"But I love you Stella. Or, I thought I did. Gosh dammit. I'm so confused! And more than a little fucking scared."
"I'm sorry," she repeated and then waved her hand high above her head. "I can't deprive my children."
"What?"
"Feed, children."
The cloaked figures closed in on me, eyes glowing red and hungry grins. That was the last thing I ever saw while I still had a heartbeat.
-^#^-
I felt light, like I weighed only a few ounces. Only, it wasn't the good kind of weightless. It was like that song by Kansas, "Dust in the Wind." A harsh and bitter wind that occurred in the middle of a snow flurry. And there was the grape soda I mentioned earlier.Was I dead? Was this how I was going to feel for all eternity? I thought death was supposed to be peaceful. Maybe I was in hell. Maybe people had been wrong about hell all along, it wasn't full of flames and fire. It was ice. Cold and numbing. It was the only thing I could feel, see, hear. Every one of my senses was consumed by this horrible cold.
I couldn't breathe, but a part of me knew I didn't need to. Not anymore.
Time was deluded. I felt like I was suffocated in this freezing wind for days, yet for only seconds. The farther I floated the more I felt my body begin to shut down, give up. There was no more heart beat. The blood was no longer pumping.
I felt like one of those taxidermied deer heads. Stiff and dead and creepy.
And then the ice was replaced by a blazing flame in my belly. It was the worst thing I had ever felt. Like someone was burning away my intestines. Indescribable. Like I held the sun in my stomach.
A name ripped through my brain, then. Stella. I felt resentment, hatred, hunger. I was no longer weighed down by the useless emotions like love and happiness. Where did those things get me?
My eyelids slowly dragged themselves open. Like an elevator door opening. Slow. I saw trees and the sky, but it was all dimmed by a red haze that clouded my vision. What the hell was going on?
Those damn cloaked figures were leaning over me. I didn't die? But I knew I didn't have a heartbeat. And
that flame in my belly was still there. Flickering and growing to unbearable heights. I needed food. But not the food I used to eat. No more grilled cheese and greasy pepperoni pizza. I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew it was close.
Then I saw Stella. I thrashed on the ground. That bitch! I tried to shout, but my body was no longer suited for words. My jaw, my muscles, my lungs didn't know how to form words. My thoughts were perfectly coherent, but my words melted together into a strangled and garbled groan.
I looked at Stella again. Target! my mind screamed. Food!
I guess that was when I figured it out. Somehow I was a zombie. The idea didn't seem to preposterous. Then again, I wasn't exactly dwelling on it in that moment. I was focused on the fire licking my insides. It was no longer just in my stomach. It was in my brain, in my eyes, in my ears and nose.
Zombies were supposed to be slow, but that fire ignited me. I pounced from the floor. I think there were shrieks from the stupid cloaked people. I wasn't paying attention. My target was locked and I wasn't going to stop until I got what I wanted. I lunged at Stella, my zombie teeth sinking into her trachea.
This time she screamed and I loved it. Blood gushed into my mouth and I savored the sweet taste of her flesh.
That was how it happened. After that day nothing was left of Stella or her cloaked minions but bone. For all of you newbie zombies, I'll warn you: that fire never goes away. Not ever. But it's something you learn to deal with, almost enjoy. Being a zombie isn't as horrible as it seems, I assure you. You don't feel guilt or embarrassment or any other stupid thing. And we're actually stronger than the humans. You don't have to worry about trivial things like money or materials.
Now, I haven't eaten in about an hour or two. All you humans reading this better watch out. You might be my next target, and once I get my senses locked on a person, there's no escaping.
I'm gonna go get me some brains and maybe even a heart or two. Happy dreams to all of you.
No comments:
Post a Comment