They rip apart our families…
They tear open our hearts…
They unleash our inner fear…
Progressing slowly through the streets,
Groaning loudly and smelling of rotting flesh,
Dripping blood and gore where they walk,
Leaving a path of decay,
I won’t let them get me. I won’t be weak.
I shall be strong in this time of struggle.
I must suffer, to survive.
I can’t go on like this.
I can’t…
I mustn’t…
I won’t…
I will survive,
I will push forward.
I will make it out alive,
one way or another…
I will escape.
Richard Garfield had suffered many hardships throughout his life. Countless women he fell for sought only to use him, leaving him heartbroken. He had been the victim of corrupt employers who cheated him out of money. In time he barely had enough to live under a roof. It seemed as if poor Richard had been through it all. Of course, then there was the day his entire family had been consumed by zombies.
Once they took over Syracuse, Richard found himself holding out in the airport with most of the other survivors. Even then he was alone. He was a pale, skinny, young man who kept to himself. He wasn’t hated by the others, like he experienced in school, just an outsider. He hardly ever spoke unless the situation deemed it necessary. Whenever approached by others, Richard would avert his gaze and fumble with a gold cross that hung by his neck with a chain of matching metal.
Richard treasured that cross. His mother had given it to him after his father had left. She had received it from her mother who, in turn, received it from hers. It remained his only possession from his previous life. On the back, engraved horizontally, it read “Exsisto Validus.”
Continue reading ‘Be Strong’
It’s funny, the things that you miss, no matter how insignificant.
For as long as I can remember, mid-February meant heading out to a local park and searching for a tiny plastic medallion.
I never found the Syracuse Winterfest Medallion, but I came close. I was in Burnet Park, no more than 20 feet from where it was later found.
Continue reading ‘The Hunt is On!’
I hate Erin McGraw.
I hate her and her smiley-faced ZED.
I hate her and her smiley-faced ZED and that stupid nickname she gave me.
I hate her, her ZED, my nickname, and how she acts during missions.
I hate that I didn’t see that ghoul coming up from behind.
I hate how close to my head she swung that smiley-faced crowbar.
I hate that her ZED saved my life.
Continue reading ‘I Hate Erin McGraw’
I always write under a pen name. No one can know who I am. It helps with the marketing. Without marketing, I’m talentless. Hungry. The mystery helps keep me fed. Outside the fence, I’d be zombie food. Inside, I’m a ghost. It’s better that way.
At first, I tried humor. I thought people had enough seriousness in their lives that they’d want a way to laugh, to forget. Man, was that ever a miscalculation. It bombed. Every single joke rang hollow. It was forced, forgettable, and uncomfortable. I tried short sketch comedies, like the Saturday Night Live we all loved at some point in our lives. The audience shrank to thirty bored people, clapping more out of respect than joy. The actors looked embarrassed. It was uncomfortable all around.
I tried writing a soap opera but my heart wasn’t in it. I’d never really seen a soap opera, and the plots would have gotten absurd but I stopped after two weeks. No one cared.
Continue reading ‘Audition’
We ran in such a panic. It was scary. The monsters kept growing in numbers and circling us. There was no place to run to, and I didn’t know where to go!
I closed my eyes and covered my head with my arms. Then Amelia hit my head really hard and yelled “HA HA! YOU’RE DEAD!”
I started to cry. Not only did I just lose, but my head really hurts. I miss my Mommy and Daddy. I want to go home. I hate these other kids. They’re so mean to me.
Feb. 2nd
Happy Groundhogs Day!
If the groundhog was smart he’d keep in his burrow. Unless he was a early riser, then in that case that poor groundhog was as good as Z-chow. Although the sun was covered by snow clouds you could see the sun beaming through. I prayed Spring would arise early. No more pedaling through snow. Of course the blood stains and the prints in the snow give me a future route to my migration. Though the constant nose bleeds from extreme cold winds give me away for them Z’s….It started raining, I guess it was always ture what they say about Syracuse weather. For such a unknow holiday it makes me sick of white and begging for green. February should be known as “Cabin Fever” month.
Sincerely,
Kayla
P.s. The Z’s seems to be grouping and heading to the Carousel. I’ll meet them there. Locked and loaded. Hope that groundhog made the best of his holiday.
Most Recent Comments