Here’s a thing I’ll start doing every Sunday to help keep me writing every week. I’ll find random word prompts online (and link them of course) and write something short for it. It could be a word, a phrase, concept, or even a photo or song. This week it’ll be a prompt from this blog.
A zombie apocalypse occurs, where people retain characteristics they had while living. You, as the sole survivor, meet a snobby, vegan zombie who turns their nose up at you.
I sit in my (technically stolen) Jeep in front of a quaint farmhouse somewhere just outside of Montgomery. It’s been about four months since the world as I knew it ended. People started rising from the dead, eating just about any living thing they could get their hands on.
Rather than killing them right off the bat, I’ve been able to hide out in my vehicle to study them from afar… Until they realize I’m there and try to attack. By then I’ll just drive away and leave them to their rather strange existence.
Yesterday I came upon a truly unique zombie. He was standing in front of a store front window and seemed to be checking himself out. He toyed with his hair and smoothed his hands down his shirt with what could almost pass as a confident smirk.
I write these things down, labeling him the Narcissistic Zombie. I may call him Zack in remembrance of a guy I met at a party my second year of college. It suits him. With a sigh I pull out the polaroid photo I took of him before driving off, leaving him to admire himself in peace.
Just as I am about to take off driving again I spot a zombie wander into the field just to my left. She meanders over to a bush and begins plucking the berries from it, popping them into her mouth one at a time.
Her unique actions intrigue me, so I pull out my notebook once more and write down what she’s doing. I wonder if she only eats plants or if, like the others I’ve encountered, she would try to attack me.
So, in the name of research, I grab my pistol and polaroid camera then, venture out of the safety of my Jeep. I leave the door open and the keys in the ignition just in case I have to make a quick escape.
Slowly, I make my way over to her, my pistol stowed in the waistband of my jeans and my polaroid hanging safely around my neck. As I near her I step on a twig. It snaps with a crack that breaks through the silent field.
The zombie stops sniffing the berry in her hand, turning to me with narrowed eyes. I see what looks like indecision flash across her face as she sizes me up. I stand completely still, one hand resting on the pistol and the other holding onto the camera around my neck.
She takes a slow step towards me, leaving only a few feet between us. My body is screaming at me to run from her, to get back in my Jeep and study her from there. But I force my feet to stay where they are, holding my breath in both excitement and utter terror.
Another step brings her close enough for me to see her dead eyes, pale blue irises with vibrant red veins streaking through the yellowed whites. In life I’d have called her beautiful with her long brown locks and heart shaped face, but today I’d have to call her frightening.
I watch as those unnerving eyes size me up, taking me in from my head to my toes as I stand stock-still. She leans forward only slightly and closes her eyes, sniffing in my direction as she sniffed all those flowers. After a moment her eyes open, her lips curling up in what could only be distaste as she turns her nose up at me.
My jaw drops to the ground as she turns back to the bush, reaching down and plucking one. I think that I must be dreaming as she eats another berry.
I remove my hand from my pistol and grab my polaroid, lifting it to my eye. Right as I click the button to take the photo she turns to me, giving me a snobby look that says “Oh you’re still here?”