Zombies

Can you sense it? The vile, putrid smell of pungent death, proclaiming victory over the weak - sickeningly weak - organisms? It’s near tangible! I can feel the rotting smell settle on my tongue and infect me with its horrid disease, like I have not the weakness it observes of itself. Death, In long coming you have not saved my ever sinning soul! I have – for hatred of my once noted brethren – killed, with means in which I – before Hell entwined itself between the greens of earth – would have avoided at the cost of mine own life. Killed I have! In forms uncounted. Numbers measured only by all-knowing God! In Hell’s depth, I have been once commended. But I, now worn down to carelessness, do not recollect my moment of passing! Death has not yet offered to me the sweet relief of his milk white finger. I live! But in what? Filth, rot, decaying earth, blood stained! The four horsemen have become unto this world! Followed by Hades! And I sit now left behind to live as a man of goodness, now going straightway mad!

But stay! I can – with much effort – see in the dread night. And I hear, now like never in my previous and tolerable life (intolerable it is to call this life) – the many horrid sounds the waking and motion full cadavers admit into my ears. Horrid as they are, I mustn't lose this sense – for I have nothing to rely my life upon, except my natural intuition. Moreover my sense of survival, I have none stronger.

Pestilence, War, Famine, Death! Why hath my never killed, never famished, and never sickened body been spared? I sit bewildered in solitude, within the cavernous refuge of this – my home of yet – wine cellar. But this relief as it would be if I could pass it onto my tongue, the wine, sits here on these many wooden shelves and ages untouched by my shaking grasp, as it all has been tainted with the terrible plague-like – stay! Worse that the plague – pestilence of which hath come over this whole civilization and causes me to hide here, among one of its main arteries of initial transport – liquids of infection – and hath also caused me to turn my own garden spade on my once beloved. And I now sit upon the dirt scattered floor to weep over her fragile and delicate body. The top of her – in the above and bust region – covered with cloth of white, as it has been so mangled and twisted and I wish not to look upon it.

I must now go, as day is dawning and the sun arises to turn dark Hell into non-hazed Hell. If I do not rise and find new refuge before the hastened sun forsakes me, then I will be an acutely provisional life on everlasting earth. And I fear – although it does not stay my hand – the poison jaw of the re-animated. Only a singular tooth to puncture the flesh and you begin like them, in sickness, a gaunt white overcomes the area of your flesh, and the acids in your stomach force upon you a violent regurgitation which disallows the partaking of foods, and drinks. Your throat becomes parched and raw from the relentless vomiting and you can swallow not a single liquid that will quench the thirst, as it - the soothing of the liquid - will be succeeded by the tearing vomit. Hunger will waste away the muscle and meat and the blood craving cadavers will be much inclined to admit you into the hoarding terrors of which they partake. Your eyes will become bloodshot and red with rage, and your lips will decay and reveal the rotting teeth – they are rotting from the consistent passing of stomach acid – and the gums they are so rooted into. Then your newly colored skin will begin too, – much like was observed of lepers – to rot and fall unto the ground in small scrapings; this will in effect leave some of your tissue and muscle exposed in areas of the extremities. Death will then overcome you and you will fall and lie still, unthinking, unengaged, for a multitude of minutes. After a certain period of unconsciousness and rigor mortis, you will unclose your bloodshot eyes and come of the ground with a new purpose, one of a terrifying stance. You will be primal, disrobed of your former Godliness; you will wander un-hungered and unaffected by the regulation of the still living. But fulfilled as your stomach is, the instinct to fill your belly will strike you at instances of sight or sound of warm untainted flesh. You become an imbecile, an idiot, and you obey the basic primitive instincts and keep them no longer checked – mate and feed – these become your fulfillment. Unthinking, you spread the terrors that have befallen you. And you multiply and create more monstrosities, more fiendish ghouls of hollow hearts and minds. This is what I fear, and so the infected motion always toward the heat of my blood, and I must with haste of foot, contain myself in a safer place; perhaps a place with seldom passersby, and boards to cover the vulnerable glass that is so easily surpassed by a body that doesn't sense its nervous system.

Now, to unbend my knees and station my body not near the bloodless hands of my wife who became out of herself by the fault of an especially goliath and overpowering cadaver, which I – being a man large in stature –… killed, just to hearken the words of my loved one as they flowed serenely from her mouth saying “I… was bitten.” Bitten she was! She fell for hours toward her passing and conversion and elected me as her murderer and this after a fortnight and three moons of being her protector! Damn my most reliable senses! They will serve me my insanity!