by Bill Cox
I am who I am, and I accept that now.
It was a long road though. No doubt fear played a large part in that.
To be honest, I blame the media and their fake news, creating scare stories to sell newspapers. Now admittedly a National Emergency was declared, troops were on the streets and a curfew was enforced, so things were quite serious. People, including myself, were concerned, especially when the supermarkets started running out of food. Not a problem for me now of course!
So, like millions of others, I fought against the inevitable. I barricaded myself inside my flat, watching the news constantly for updates. Each new report seemed to herald a fresh disaster, a rising tide the authorities seemed unable to stem.
I rationed my meagre food supply, venturing out only when strictly necessary. The signs of societal breakdown were everywhere, from the looted shops on the High Street to the individuals and gangs only too happy to live in a world without constraints.
Eventually each government announcement was unrelentingly grim, the earlier confidence that this was a passing emergency now gone. With nothing to do but wait I sank into despair, overcome with a lethargic despondency.
I remember the day they came perfectly. The silence beforehand was so astounding that I ventured outside in wonder. For a long while it was like this, the sound of cars, people, even birds, entirely absent.
Then I saw the first of them. I’m not proud to say that I ran back into my apartment, overcome with terror. I understand now that their sense of smell is so strong that hiding wasn’t practical, but back then I still harboured a faint hope that they would pass me by.
They didn’t of course. I cowered as I heard them approach, then, some animal instinct realising that flight was impossible, I’m proud to say that I fought them. Truth to tell it was a pretty one-sided battle, but as I struggled under the mass of arms, legs and teeth, I felt all my emotions well up inside into an overwhelming tsunami, each feeling shouting that I was here, I was alive and wanted to continue living.
They killed me of course. There was blood and bone everywhere. There were other people in the flats, so they didn’t consume me completely. There was enough left over to still look like a person and my limbs were still attached.
After a while the virus reanimated my corpse. My old sense of self was gone and to be honest I was quite relieved. He had always been plagued with doubts, with low self-confidence, with everyday fears. Things are a lot clearer now. I can accept who I am without reservation. My needs are simple and I couldn’t be happier.
Having lived and died I’m now back on my feet again, renewed and ready for fresh challenges. So why don’t you join in with me – you know how it goes!
“Brains!”
“Brains!”
“Zombie needs brains!”
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The story is a good one, but I would say that the sixth paragraph down is where it really begins. It would capture the reader’s imagination by wondering ‘what has happened?’
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