Scary Story in 5 Words

The newest trending hashtag on Twitter is #ScaryStoryIn5Words and here are my top 10 favorites!


Scary Story #10

"Congress: Obama gets another term!" #ScaryStoryIn5Words

— Hunter Robinson (@HunterCRobinson) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #9

Where did that spider go #ScaryStoryIn5Words

— #JusticeForMary (@babsbear) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #8

"Your password does not match" #ScaryStoryIn5Words pic.twitter.com/adm7e1P3Gr

— traderandsponser❤️ (@scotty1234xx) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #7

Oh my God, I'm pregnant. #ScaryStoryIn5Words

— SASSYPIEHOLE (@sassypiehole) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #6

This is our freakin future! #ScaryStoryIn5Words pic.twitter.com/Tiq3g0arSD

— Fish Daddy Cupcake (@fishdaddy37) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #5

#ScaryStoryIn5Words Your character has been deleted.

— pepto-abysmal alix (@ShaofHappiness) October 31, 2014

Scary Story #4

#scarystoryin5words Do you take this woman..?

— LolWtfIdkStfuIdgaf (@Mulatto_Burrito) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #3

"Your 45th President, Donald Trump!" #ScaryStoryIn5Words pic.twitter.com/l757wOEJyv

— Bob Melone (@BobMelone) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #2

#ScaryStoryIn5Words Marriages That Ended On FaceBook https://t.co/GKwM29KdKJ

— Melissa (@PLZ_4_RT) October 20, 2015

Scary Story #1

And the frog's gonna watch. #ScaryStoryIn5Words @midnight pic.twitter.com/V8rIJoQ4Z0

— Jonesy (@JonesyBeGood) October 20, 2015

Share your favorite #ScaryStoryIn5Words in the comments below and Happy Halloween, Blogosphere!


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How Not to Get Eaten by a Shark

I've been hearing lots about sharks this past couple of weeks, from videos on Facebook to news stories, even major headlines across the nation. West Coast, East Coast, the Gulf? Name it, there was a shark mentioned or video taped. Oh my gosh, a shark! Look at it...swimming. There...in the ocean!

This morning I'd had enough when a Fox News anchor asked of his guest, "Tell us, share with us, Chris, just how do folks stay safe from shark attacks this Summer?"

This, folks, is why I decided to study Communications. It's to help claw my way back to sanity. Seriously. Here's an excerpt from a news source:

San Diego lifeguards also depend on helicopters to track shark activity. The town of Seal Beach, California, made headlines recently by using drones to monitor sharks.

So we invade their habitat and waste tons of resources monitoring it like a militarized zone? Nice.

Here's a novel idea. How about STAY OUT OF THE FREAKING OCEAN!

End rant.



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There Was A Spider In My Car

I'm not certain how many of you are aware of my fear of spiders. This fear is plenty greater than my fear of death, and from what happened today, I've come to realize that phobias cannot be defeated with rational calm logic. I know this. It's a fact. Don't lecture me either. Not after I'd tried to put on a brave front. I really did!

Driving in your car doing 60 miles per hour is not the place to encounter things which freak you out, but there it was. It emerged from the bottom shadow of the speedometer. Though it wasn't a huge spider, it was large enough its sudden movement caught my eye. First instinct was to release the stirring wheel because my hands were the closest to it. I couldn't do it. I knew the minute I moved, that sucker would jump on me and I'd have a heart attack, taking out the two cars beside me and the one in back.

I remained calm though. I knew I could handle this situation like an adult. I just needed to find something I could use to kill it. As messy as my car had been, I couldn't even find one napkin. But I did find a plastic straw sticking out of a Styrofoam cup. Perfect!

I reached over and pulled the straw out of the plastic lid. The spider had crouched up against the casing of the speedometer, but I could see his entire brown body against the black panel of my dashboard. I darted my eyes back to my windshield to monitor the traffic. More as a gauge to determine the most opportune moment to stab at and impale the spider. At least that was my intention. But I overestimated the size of the thing.

I have to give myself credit though. I was a great aim! I managed to encase the entire spider safely within the opening of the clear plastic tube just long enough to register it was darting up and skittering quickly toward the other end, the end I was still holding on to! I managed to fling the straw away but not before blaring horns and screeching tires told me I'd completely lost control of my car.

I pulled over to the side of the road and sprung from my car, wiping my arms really hard, trying to brush away the creepy feeling that had washed over me. Another honk. Fuck off! People are so insensitive.

I'm telling you. You cannot cure phobias! You cannot suppress these fears. They live in your genes. Can you even comprehend this?

GAH! I'm getting the creeps just writing about it!

Do you have a phobia? Please share so I don't feel like such a basket-case.


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Cooking Inspiration for Writing Horror

I don't understand why it is that every time I'm cooking something, whether for myself or for others, I get this sudden urge to sit down and write. It's the complete opposite from when I actually sit down in front of the computer, where I'm expected to write, and nothing comes to fruition in my tiny noggin.

I need to get these things off my chest because they're disturbing, these things which come to mind while I'm cooking.


Mixing Eggs

I think the same thing every time I poke egg yolks in a bowl and start whisking away at them with a fork. Drowning eyeballs blink back at me and brains scatter about the bowl screaming, "Noooo, please....!" And you know those bubbles that form when you've whisked away fast and furious? They balloon up and pop like in a cauldron of some witch's brew.

Seriously, this is what I see.

It's even more fascinating when you dump the mixture into a skillet waiting with a thin layer of piping hot oil. The fizzing and hissing, along with the bubbling, inspire me to write something horrific. It's excitingly violent.


Rolling Dough

I like the yeast dough, that stuff you have to let sit a while so that it puffs up nice and airy. I never understood all that making it bigger and airy. Aren't you just smashing out all that air when you punch and roll the dough? Duh.

Can you imagine
how this might end up if dough could punch back?

I don't do a lot of baking. Much of this I witness on the Food Network. Every time I see this rolling of dough, I get a sudden urge to write about my last mammogram experience. The mammogram is no joke. Get one every year if you can. Just don't look up into the mirror while your boob is smashed down to an eighth of an inch between two Plexiglass plates. You'll never look at rolling dough the same.


Pancakes on a Griddle

Anyone else addicted to watching pancakes form on a griddle? It's like I can't take my eyes off the holes. I try to count them as they appear. Things get overwhelming when they multiply exponentially, so I watch the batter dry instead. I find myself wanting to write about craters forming on the moon's surface and folks trying to escape while molten lava fills in on all sides until the tiny people are forced to jump into pits filling with fiery rage.

Looks like a flattened moon, doesn't it?

Then it's time to flip the pancake and the batter splats out the sides, just like I imagine a batch of lava spilling onto a flat surface. I should try red velvet pancakes next time.


Hot Dogs in a Microwave Oven

They always split at the tips, kind of like how a flower blooms, or a screaming alien. From the middle of each tip, the very first second, there go the ends. Boink. And they're steaming hot after 3 seconds. For some reason the middle of the dogs stay warm. I thought the microwave cooks from the inside out?

Painful, right? The creators of Alien
could have saved a lot of money using this image.

Hot dogs cooking in a microwave is the only activity which makes me think of human flesh and how it might blister and split when baked too long in the Florida sun. Skin cancer is no joke either. Stay out of the sun as much as you can, wear sun screen, and see your dermatologist annually.


Hamburgers on a Grill

A hamburger is supposed to be grilled on high heat. When done right, it gets that pink, bumpy texture everywhere and the bumps are surrounded by bloody streams   and this white solidifying  juice around the perimeter of the patty - always looks like a large canker sore to me. I know gross, right?

You're lying to yourself...
if you don't think this looks like some sort of STD.

****

So why does cooking reflect this imagery? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.



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Joyland by Stephen King - A Carnival Itself

I just finished Joyland, by Stephen King. It is a Hard Case Crime book and a very different feel for a King novel, at least it was for me. Maybe he's getting older and this is the first one of his books I've read since Gerald's Game, published over twenty two years ago. I'm not saying I didn't enjoy it tremendously, I did. It was just different.

The story's narrator is an old man, reminiscing about his years as a newbie carny worker at an amusement park known as, none other than, you guessed it...Joyland! It is a place filled with lots of movement, visuals, smells, sounds and it's a reminder to me how King manages to keep one in the story. With a carny killer on the loose, a story unfolds revealing lost love, binding friendships, and a summer to remember.

This novel was a page turner for me. Not from the standpoint of a King fan, but as a reader who doesn't have much time to find herself engrossed in a lengthy story. I've picked up books which are fast paced and never finished them because work, family, and other things tend to come up, whisking me away from my chosen novel.

This was not a fast paced read, but a thorough exploration of a carnival and its intricate involvement in bringing plot points together while the more intimate story unfolded. There are several reasons why Joyland kept me engrossed.

1. The reader stays in the setting, never (for a lengthy period of time) being removed from the fictitious world that is Joyland.
2. Who cannot relate to carnivals? Funnel cakes, cotton candy, rides, games, and the pretty girl walking away with the giant stuffed animal you could never figure out how to win for yourself. It's all there!
3. Young love and all those things that go with it: the silly, the embarrassing, and the unforgiving. King never forgets to bring us back to these events through his characters, and very well-developed they are.
4. The crimes never detracted from the story. They were the underlying pieces which kept me motivated to move forward, but the characters and the setting are what kept me in place, wanting to read more, never chancing to dog-ear a page unless I absolutely had to.
5. The world is filled with a new language, clearly translated as carny talk. You'll find a new appreciation for all things carny the next time the annual fair comes to your town!

I have a renewed interest in reading again, thanks to King's Joyland. Try it out and let me know your thoughts. If you've read it already, do you agree or disagree with these key points? If you haven't read it yet, what was your favorite King novel thus far?

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Halloween in Salem Massachusetts

I wanted to celebrate this Halloween season by sharing a spooky story, but instead, I decided to make a trip to Salem, Massachusetts and visit the Witch Trial Wax Museum. I’ve been asked by many, “What’s in Salem?”

History!

Did you know that the damning evidence used in the Salem Witch trials to convict these innocent men and women who were then condemned to hang at the gallows was this thing called spectral evidence? That means young girls (witnesses) accused certain people of casting evil spells upon them and the way they identified the person is they testified they saw the person in a non-physical state. It was thought that the only way they could present themselves in this form is by making a deal with the devil.

These witnesses would be on display in the courthouse, possessed, screaming out that they were being targeted in the very room where the accused stood trial. Anyone familiar with the Manson trial and the gaggle of young women who claimed Manson spoke to them in their minds from where he sat while they testified? Spooky.

Spectral evidence alone in many cases ensured the so called “witches” hung for their crimes. The fear spread quickly throughout Salem and 20 people were executed for practicing witchcraft before the governor ceased the trials. Why did he put an end to the trials? Because his wife, as well as a few other prominent citizens, were accused. Imagine that.

According to a local museum, to this day, only one judge has made apologies for this unfortunate historical tragedy, and only one of the “witnesses” expressed sorrow for her part in this fiasco. Amazingly enough, we find out this all started from the isolation of three women, Sarah Good, a homeless person, Tituba, a slave, and a woman named Sarah Osborne, who remarried to an indentured servant.

Local magistrates tossed the three accused women in jail and the folks of Salem discovered the power wielded in the accusations of witchcraft. Thus began the wildfire that spread from the underlying family feud between the Putnams and the Porters. Fueled by fear and mass hysteria, things had obviously gotten out of hand, especially when prominent citizens had fingers pointing at them.

How did you spend your Halloween? Trick or treating? Giving out candy? What about haunted houses? We went through this one.

I never screamed so loud in my life. Spooky scary! No lie.

Five Scariest Movies From My Childhood

Every now and again I come up with a list of things I recall as being those things having guided my life. Whether it has been childhood books I've read, iPhone apps I love, or antagonists I admire, I enjoy sharing these things, hoping my readers will take the time to seek out opportunities to experience the same.

Yet another area I want to share is the 5 scariest movies I've experienced. Watch these and know, your life will never be the same afterward. I dare you.



Let's Scare Jessica to Death   1971

This movie is so old, I can barely recall why it scared me so much, but I wasn't very old when my sister and I watched it as a televised movie on HBO years after it came out. I think we were babysitting my younger brother while our parents were out on their weekly Friday night bowling league.

I recall screaming when this drowned, pale-white body emerged from the lake. The special effects and makeup back then were horrible, but they didn't need all that stuff to shoot a scary movie. Scary movies were scary because of the situations, not the gore.

Burnt Offerings  1976

I loved Bettie Davis in her black and white movies. The young Davis was such a beauty. When I watched her in Burnt Offerings, I was horrified. Still a great actress, she made my skin crawl in this movie. She played the elder Aunt Elizabeth, all things centering around her health and well-being as I recall it.

When the father and son play in the pool, there's some rough housing and the father holds the kid under water, attempting to drown him. The look on the father's face, his obvious violent pleasures, scared the crap out of me. The premise of the movie is that this run down old house restores itself to its glorious beauty, little by little, as people die on the property. Spooky, right?

The Sentinel  1977

I'm not certain why this movie stuck with me after all these years, but I remember the priest fascinated me. It's the introduction of after the fact information that scared me with this movie.

The main character attends a birthday party and you think nothing of it, because it's pretty ordinary. But later, she discovers that everyone in attendance at said party were dead criminals and she'd been hanging out in a sort of purgatory to hell. WTF??

The Shining  1980

The spooky twins murdered years ago in this hotel? Didn't bother me they were twins, didn't bother me they were murdered, and didn't bother me they showed up as aberrations. What bothered me? The look on their faces. It was like fish on land, but not struggling for air. The idea of it just spooked the hell out of me.

When you can create a scene where the characters behave super ordinary from the expected, that's pretty freaky to me! Jack Nicholson going after his wife the way he did wasn't as scary to me as when she'd discovered all the writing he'd been doing which consisted of lines and lines of "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Ghost Story  1981

Spooky because it connects with our sense of past ghosts seeking vengeance upon us. There are so many ways we experience the past, and this movie touches upon the psyche playing on each. It's something how the producers and directors years ago connected with our sense of foreboding, so much unlike movies today.

Each character in this movie who deals with their past does so in a situation which will make your skin crawl.

Do you have a favorite childhood horror movie you'd like to share here? I love it when you can go back at least 30 years and experience technology then vs. now. You didn't have a whole lot of gore in horror years ago, but they weren't lacking in the creative art of scaring the bejeezies out of you.

Increase Your Enthusiasm For Writing

There were five of ten shared points I took away from my attendance at the TWA Writers Conference last month. These points have something in common. They keep me enthusiastic about writing; therefore, I'm sharing them with you!

1. Learn something new

Why does this increase your enthusiasm to write? Because, when we learn new things it boosts our confidence and that is something we need as writers in order to allow our creativity to explode onto the screen.

When I was learning Photoshop, I wanted to share my experience, and I did. Likewise, my first digital photos made it into a blog post as well via an embedded sideshow (something else new to me, but I did it and shared it).

2. Make an outline

I never believed this would ever help me, so I never created one, though I kept petering out on every novel I started. I'd get really excited about this story in my head and before I could even pound out a beginning, I'd lost interest. I didn't know where to go when I reached chapter 5. I now have two books with exactly 5 chapters, each sitting in an electronic bookshelf somewhere on my computer. But, now I have an outline, so we'll see if it helps, or if I might just be a lazy procrastinator.

3. Set goals for yourself

Whether it's an hour or 500 words, you must have a daily goal for your writing progress. If not a daily goal, you should at least have a weekly one. I'm one to be the cheerleader for goal setting, right? Here are a few things available to choose from, and I've done them all. The ten minute stream of consciousness is the most fun.

• Stream of consciousness writing (at least 10 minutes non-stop, even if writing non-sense like, "This is stupid, so so so so stupid I can't think of anything to write, oh and you can't spell check or worry about grammar, just WRITE! Can you tell I'm having fun?")
• Word count goal (500, 1000, 2500)
• Chapter per day/week
• Blog post per week
• Daily journal entry

4. Understand your audience

Whether you're writing erotica (*cough* gamers of text based RPGs), YA fiction, or horror, you should know your audience. Not everyone is going to love what you write, but if you know your audience, then you know what they love and you can bring it. I'm a Stephen King fan because he's not shy describing gross things like a half naked woman handcuffed to her bed while a stray dog gnaws at her dead husband's scalp as he lays lifeless on the floor because he had a heart attack in the middle of an S&M session with his wife. [deep breath] Moving along.

5. Reach out for support

Nothing will get you more enthusiastic about writing than reaching out to other writers and sharing your struggles. Believe me! I've been struggling for years, but I'd never be as far as I am if I'd not joined the Tallahassee Writers Association or the Florida Writers Association and met some really awesome writers, authors, editors, and publishers. We are all in the business of loving what we do, so why not share?

How do you keep your enthusiasm to write kicking along at maximum speed? Share your ideas.

M is for a Manuscript Snippet

I had a hard time coming up with a topic for the letter M, so I thought I'd share some of my work with you instead. I feel like I'm always sharing things I learn from various workshops and online writing courses, but I don't really share much of what I've been working on in the realm of fiction writing.

Here's a snippet from chapter eight of my current WIP, Precinct 9.

Lyle snapped a photo of the wound against a retractable tape measure.

Kelly quickly wrote down the findings. The mixture in the air of death and ammonia invaded suddenly. She un-wrapped her Peppermint gum and folded it into her mouth. 

The doctor covered the top portion of the subject’s body and lifted the bottom of the tarp. The subject’s legs, placed at an angle 20 degrees from one another, exposed the horror of what had happened to Jennifer Whorley. Kelly looked away, but the rips and lacerations on the young woman’s body would remain with her forever. Corpse. It’s a corpse. She straightened her shoulders and looked back at the injuries. 

Lyle made his way to the other side of the table. His unaffected, emotionless expression and his professional demeanor made him a monster for the moment and Kelly felt tears but forced them away. Is this what she’d become? 

Dr. Stinson paused. “The tissue in the walls of the vaginal canal and the tears and lacerations to the Labias Minora and Majora are indicative of violation after the onset of rigor mortis.”

The nausea in the pit of Kelly’s stomach spread quickly and a slow, warming prickle crept up her spine.

Again, the camera. Flash.

Who does this? Who takes someone away from this world and then violates their body like this? How does one explain this to a parent?

Flash.

The numbness in her heart seemed to create a warp speed for the rest of the autopsy - the various swabs, bone fragment extractions, organ slicing, and cut up parts placed discreetly into a plastic trash bag and dumped into the victim's gaping body cavity.

Kelly excused herself when the doctor pulled out a Hagedorn needle and heavy twine. There would be nothing to gain by witnessing the sewing of the body. Not after the damage had been done.

Would you want to read more of this manuscript? Let me know why or why not.

Visit my Alphabet Links:

A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - I - J - K - L - M - N - O - P - Q - R - S - T - U - V - W - X - Y - Z

What the Leprechaun Said

This month's prompt at Absolute Write: Suggest-A-Prompt

We have so many good prompt ideas that don't get used, so it's now time to mix it up. Posters get to suggest a prompt for the next blogger in line! Be sure to list the prompt and credit the suggester in your post. My prompt is "What the Leprechaun Said". Thank you, Carol, for this great inspirational challenge!

All that gold...

"He's a legendary figure, Eric." Gracie pulled gently on her son's hand. "We're late. Maybe we can come back later and visit." They shopped every year on St. Patrick's Day because it was her sister's birthday and she always waited until the last minute. Previous years were much easier. Eric's curiosity about the world had grown and there never seemed to be enough time to explain everything.

Eric didn't budge. "Is he good or bad?"

"Well, lots of people think he's good because he brings good luck. That's why he's always around a pot of gold."

"But why does he look like that?"

"Like what, Eric?" Gracie peered at the leprechaun in the display window of Macy's department store, her patience wearing thin. The same leprechaun they put out every year stood in its designated spot, a smile plastered across his green, ceramic face, and his left ear chipped at the top, exposing the white plaster beneath the paint. His lifeless eyes stared out from behind the glass and his hand held up in a gesture, waving hello, or in Gracie’s case, goodbye.

Eric wriggled away from Gracie and approached the window, placing his greasy palms flat against it. "Where is it? Where's the gold you crazy lepachon. Gimme, grrrr!"

Gracie reached down and grabbed Eric by one hand, balancing her packages in the other. "Let's go, Eric."

Unwilling at first, Eric conceded, but kept his eyes on the leprechaun while they walked away.

"Mommy, does the lepachon know where the pot of gold is?" Eric asked while Gracie tucked him into bed that night. She wished she hadn't made him wear a green shirt today and she wished she hadn't mentioned anything about leprechauns, four leaf clovers, and pinching people who didn't wear the festive color.

The reflecting light of the moon beamed through the window, casting shadows on the opposite wall. A waving hand and the outline of the leprechaun and his chipped ear appeared briefly and faded from the shadowy wall.

"Some think so, Eric. But nobody ever really saw a real leprechaun. He's just a fairy-tale character."

"Is Santa Claus a fairy-tale character, mommy?"

"Eric, that's not the same thing, honey."

"But I never saw Santa Clause, and he brings me toys on Christmas. If I ask the lepachon for a pot of gold, do you think he would bring it to me since it's St. Patrick's Day?"

Gracie knew better than to continue this conversation. She kissed Eric on the forehead and turned off the bedside lamp. "Goodnight, Eric."

The night drew on and from the shadows, a whisper. "Psst, Eric..."

***

A searing pain in the pit of her gut woke Gracie in the middle of the night. Eric sat upon her, straddling her like a horse, wriggling a knife through her stomach. "Grrrr, gimme!"

Gracie gasped and grabbed at Eric's hands. The exiting blade sliced her palms open, "What are you doing, Eric!" The pain, the rush of adrenaline, and the warm blood seeping into her night gown, all indications she was not dreaming.

His lifeless eyes looked through her and he plunged the knife in again. "The gold is in there, mommy. It's what the lepachon said!"

THE END

Visit these other participants:

orion_mk3  - Yuppies Who Hate the Family Business
ConnieBDowell   Unexpected Library Encounter
bmadsen   Cupcake Disaster
MsLaylaCakes   Unfortunate Sports
HistorySleuth   Less Than Fortunate Foods
writingismypassion   Blind Date with a Ventriloquist
katci13   Evil Cupid
KitCat   Hunting with Hounds
Angyl78   A Ghost's Bad Day
randi.lee   The Wrong Bar
Lady Cat   Visitors 
pyrosama -  (You Are HERE) What the Leprechaun Said
Ralph Pines -  Under the Bed
dclary -  Warm Kitty, Soft Kitty, Evil Ball of Fur
meowzbark -  Road Trip
SRHowen -  Faded Blue Jeans

Zompocalypse Now - Black Hawk Down

This month's Absolute Write prompt: 

Zompocalypse Now! Give us your take on the zombie apocalypse, be it a zompocalypse story, a zom-com, or a reflection on the genre and the films that inspired it. Write wherever the prompt inspires you, fiction or non-fiction, prose or poetry. Do try and keep things at a PG-13 level, though.

Here's mine!

Skyhawk1122 and I are the only ones logged in at 2:00 a.m. Sometimes we’d see duddette69 online, but she always dies and logs off before either of us can get over to revive her.

I’m almost out of ammo and I’m pissed. Hawk ascends the staircase and I protest. “Dude, you need to rebuild the barriers." I adjust my earpiece, but I know he’s not listening. It’s too late anyway. A zombie hits me from behind and I can’t get away.

“Shut the hell up,” he says. “Come upstairs to the lobby.” Hawk’s voice echoes in my right ear and there's static in the line.

“I’m dead, moron.” It’s the only thing I can stomach as a response. I yank off my blue-tooth device and throw it at the television. Three more zombies munch on my brains while the screen goes black and white. Game over. All goes blank.

***

I am awakened by a nudge to my shoulder and when I push myself up on one knee, everything around me is orange and gray. 

A man standing next to me taps my arm and says, “Let’s take the east wing first.”

“What’s going on?” I manage to sound confident despite my temporary delirium. 

“We’re surrounded and the only way out is up those stairs and through the laboratory.”

I read the guy’s name tag above his right pocket, Skyhawk1122.

The room spins and I try to speak, but my speech is slowed and I feel like I can’t say it fast enough. “Dude, this is not happening.” I wait and hope for confirmation. Nothing comes but the realization we've been physically submerged into the wastelands.

Distant moans close in on us and I recognize the source at the top of the stairs. They come at us, slow at first, eyes gray with no thought.  The one leading the pack breaks into a jog straight for me and everything quickens to a normal speed.

With no time to think, I lift my weapon and fire. The blast sprays decayed flesh everywhere and the headless body topples onto the floor. A second shot takes off the arm of a crawler two paces behind.

“Quick, I need more ammo.” Hawk makes his way up the stairs. I follow, taking two steps at a time. My heart pounds in my chest and I wonder if he’s scared too.

He grabs four boxes of ammo and hands me two, then tosses me an AR-15 from the trunk. “Load up. It’s going to get ugly.”

I quickly load and insert my magazine, but before we make an entry into the room, two zombies and a ghoul spring forward and grab Hawk, pulling him toward the stairs. The echoes of his abandoned screams pierce my ears. I hear the quiver in his voice when he begs for me to fire. I can’t get a decent shot because they are all over him and the only thing I can see is the fear in his eyes. I decide it’s too late to save him. 

He screams while they drag him away, feasting on his brain matter. Then there is silence, with a trail of blood and pieces of flesh left behind. I can still save myself before the next feeding. I head toward the laboratory.

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orion_mk3 -  (link to this month's post)
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writingismypassion -  (link to this month's post)
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