The Inevitable Zombie Apocalypse!

The Importance of Flesh Hungry Monsters

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              The twigs and leaves were helpless as each footfall hastily stamped its imprint on the soft, dew soaked grass. Each panicked breath poured into the autumn air and filled the silence between each muffled heartbeat. As the vigorous gasping continued, lungs were filled with the stale twilight mist and the stench of old flesh. Death. Dead. Dying. Death. Everyone. No one can be trusted. These were the thoughts that entered, but were not retained. Nothing can be retained while in such a frantic state. Nothing but the instinct to survive. A hallow moan is heard in the distance, followed by another. Stillness falls as rest is taken. Even when one is running for his life, he can only run for so long. Uneasiness now floats lowly with the fog. The sounds of slow scurries and shoes stomping approaches ominously. Disorientation. A cold hand grabs a warm shoulder and tears through the cloth. A set of cracked teeth rips into the exposed flesh. Collapsing to the ground, nothing but a whimper escapes from the lips. As the body lies on the ground, images become blurry, thoughts become fleeting, the ghoul continues to scavenge on the freshly dead corpse.

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