Zombie Postcard Fiction: As Seen on TV

 

"There's nothing to eat!"

"Go collect some bugs."

"We can't eat bugs!"

"Yes.  We can."

"No way!"

"I saw it on TV."

"Your shows suck!"

 

Photo by fir0002, GFDL 1.2 <http://www.gnu.org/licenses/old-licenses/fdl-1.2.html>, via Wikimedia Commons 

 

Zombie Postcard Fiction: The Horde is Here!

"What about grandma's china?"

"Leave it."

"What about the photo albums?"

"There's no time."

"The cat is hiding."

"Leave her and get in the car!"

 

Photo by Leo de Vos from id., The Netherlands, 

CC BY-SA 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0>,

 via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

Postcard Fiction: Stay Inside

  "Don't go out there!"
"I don't see them."

"They're still out there."

"We can't stay."

"They'll kill you."

"I'll be careful."

"They eat careful people."

Zombie Dribble: Remembering the Dead

As I sit looking at our graves, I remember when Memorial Day used to be for soldiers, airmen, sailors, and marines.   Now, it is for everyone.  It's for the dead who are buried, the dead we have killed, and the dead who still roam.  We dug the graves.  We remember.

Zombie Complex rising from a grave?

Zombie Drabble: The Woman is Strong

     "I don't think I can deal with this," Randy said shaking his head.

     "I know," Mike replied.  "The prospect of being disemboweled makes me shudder."

     "We can't go out there," Randy continued.  "We might die."

     "The dead are so," Mike paused wiping his tears, "grotesque."

     "I'm hot, I'm tired, I'm hungry," Mike continued.  "I'm so thirsty."

     "I'm parched too."

     A slender figure in black emerged from the shadows.  It was Sandra.  She had a shotgun, she racked the slide, and she opened the door.

    "Where are you going?" Randy asked.

    "I’m hungry and I can't wait for you girls forever."

     

Zombie Dribble: Same Story Different Day.

“What do you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.  What do you want to eat?”

“You want McDonald’s?”

“No.”

“How about Wendy’s?”

“No.”

“How about Popeye’s?”

“No.”

“How about Steak-n-Shake?”

“Okay.”

“Drive thru?”

“I’m not getting out of this truck.”

“They look dead.”

“Okay.”

“Well hand me my tomahawk woman!”

Steak-n-Shake - photo by Ed! at English Q52 / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

Zombie Nanofiction - The Hand

THE HAND

Something dead was in the middle of the street. It had attracted a whole murder of hungry crows. They were pecking at it, screeching at each other, and fighting over it. It was a human hand. I looked around for a human. But, no one I saw fit that description anymore.

I fought back my bile. I didn't tell anyone. Karen was driving. Vijay was in back desperately trying to stop Charan's bleeding. I kept my finger indexed along the slide. I kept my muzzle pointed down. We needed to reach the hospital. If there still was one. 

A murder of crows - Photo By liz west from Boxborough, MA (murder of crows) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Zombie Nanofiction - Daily Scrum of the Dead

Alright Spike, what did you do yesterday that contributed to this supply sprint?

We brought in 12 cases of bottled water from the drug store.

What were your obstacles?

About four dozen biters in the store and a pair of bandits outside.

What are you going to do today?

Go back, load up more supplies, get Tanya, make sure she's really dead, bring her home, and bury her.

Do you see any obstacles or impediments today?

Well, our team is short one member and we know one of the biters now.

Zombie Drabble - Faster

Here is a bit of zombie nanofiction (100-word Flash Fiction) that I originally posted over on the Zombie Squad Forum. Enjoy!

Faster

I ran with her, I  trained her, I encouraged her, and I even slept with her when her  husband was away on business.  But, her training regime was never going  to work, she wouldn’t cut back on all her fancy iced coffees.  She blew  off aerobic workouts regularly.  She huffed and she puffed, but she paid  me.

I bet she doesn’t worry about her husband’s pretty  receptionist now.  Her protein diet and her half-assed workouts don’t  matter.  Back when we had a hundred dead people shuffling along behind  us on our run, only one thing truly mattered. I was faster.

Photo by Ed Yourdon [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)]