Posts Tagged ‘Short Story’

The door opened…

Tommy stepped into the darkness. The carrier bag was grasped in his fingers was the fruits of his afternoons labour, or at least an afternoon spent shoplifting from those shops with staff who hadn’t yet wised up to the thief in their midst. He pulled out an item from the bag and removed the cardboard surround and pressed the on switch. The reading light shone brightly with a narrow beam. Tommy held it so that he could make his way down the steps towards his treasure trove.

He kept all sorts of purloined items here and tipped out the bag onto the rest of the pile. Tommy wasn’t really interested in the stuff that he nicked, he enjoyed the thrill of the steal but today the rush was dulled by the comparative ease with which he was able to remove the items. It wan’t as if he was especially skilled, it was that no one paid any attention to him. He decided that he would have to attempt something bigger than the usual knick knacks.

He then thought he heard something scrape along the floor. He turned the thin beam of light in a downward direction. The scream barely left his lips as the rest of his life was stolen from him.

Confirmed zombie victims: 4


The door opened…

“Where to, love?” asked the man bathed in the light from the dashboard and the illuminated meter. It gave his face a sinister red glow. The glow was stronger than it would normally have been due to the sheen of sweat on his face. He hoped that it wasn’t a fever. He couldn’t afford to take any time off, especially in the run up to Christmas. He did his best to hold back a cough but it emitted as a strange creaking sound but the passenger did not seem to notice.

The cabbie noticed that the form in the back was a slender figure and had to be helped into the car. The man who gently placed her on the seat could have been a bouncer at the club he was parked outside but the way he held the young woman suggested there was a closer bond between them.

The man gently closed the door but then walked round the car until he was next to the driver’s door. The cabbie pressed the button and the electric window whirred as it lowered.  The man lowered his head and leaned it into the car.

“She has had a bit too much to drink” whispered the man apologetically and then passed the cabby a twenty pound note. He told the cabby the destination and then handed the cabby another twenty. The first twenty would have been more than adequate to cover the fare.

“This is for any” the man paused momentarily, thinking for the right words “inconvenience you may have if she is” another pause “unwell. Please take care of her.” He patted the cabby on the shoulder and retreated from the car waving as the car turned a corner and vanished from sight.

The cabby wasn’t sure yet whether this was a godsend or a gift from hell. It would depend on the health of his passenger. Then the cabby’s blood ran cold. His destination was along a road with a series of traffic calming speed bumps. He knew from experience that these “sleeping policemen” could provoke the most awful extrusions from the drunken clientele.  But the cabby knew a few detours that would enable him to at least reduce the number of bumps he would have to go over. The first turning of the detour was just ahead. The cabby noted that the streetlights were not on here, not unusual in itself but he would have to keep an eye out for wandering drunks or cats tired of their nine lives. He was just thinking this when a pair of eyes reflected the headlights in the dark. The cabby stomped on the brake and the car came to a sudden halt. Then the noise from the back startled him. His passenger, who had been lying along the seat, had rolled onto the floor.  Remembering the care in which her companion had placed her into the car, the cabby felt it only right that he should check and see that the young woman was ok.

He opened the rear passenger door of the car and watched as the lying body started to rise. He offered his hand to the young girl who gratefully took them and she stretched her legs beyond the car and then stood up. Her grip was remarkable strong for such a small girl but it was her bite that was to prove fatally surprising to the cabby.

A few moments later the cat walked to the once living body and gave it a sniff before disappearing into the night.

Confirmed zombie victims: 2

Thomas wiped the sweat from his forehead and sat back in his chair. The glowing monitor in front of him faded in and out of focus for a moment. He stood up from his desk and went to get himself a glass of water. He paused and placed his hand on his desk to steady himself and waited for the wave of nausea to pass. He walked to the water cooler and gulped down five cups of water, barely pausing for breath. Then he repeated these actions. He gulped the water, ignoring the trickle of overspill that dribbled down his chin and stined his shirt. He felt the walls closing in on him. He had to escape the confines of the office. He walked down the stairs, quickening his pace as he went.

As he emerged into the daylight, he felt the chill breeze in the air. The sky was experimenting with different shades of monochrome with an imminent change to watercolour.

Thomas had the desire to run and so he did. He was thankful for the autumnal weather as it meant that there were fewer people on the street with the days of summer having past but the bustle of Christmas was in its embrionic stage.

Thomas ran, almost losing his balance on the carpet of golden leaves. The chill of the air as he ran helped cool him from the burning that he was feeling. He knew he should stop and call his doctor. The burning he felt was like no fever he had ever experienced before.There was something else other than the burning, a hunger. Thomas felt as if he hadn’t eaten in a month and with the enegy used as he ran made his body scream for sustenance. He needed to feed. He needed to bite.

It was too late before Thomas heard the car horn. The car hit him with a glancing blow. The last thought Thomas had before being consumed by the darkness was must eat

Please forgive me as I have been a bit neglectful here of late but I have still been writing. A friend of mine has been working her ass off to create/edit a creative part of a site called click here to visit it.

I have contributed a short story written in Scots which can be found here.

I hope you’ll enjoy it and check out the other talented writers there (goodness knows how they let me in).


Posted: October 31, 2011 in Zombie short story
Tags: ,

Tom opened his eyes.

He saw nothing but darkness. He blinked.

Still darkness.

Tom waited for his eyes adjust to the lack of light but still nothing.

Where am I? Tom thought. He moved his arms but he wasn’t able to move them very far before they struck something solid.  He was in some kind of container. A sensory deprivation tank perhaps? No, thought Tom, they have water in them and he felt completely dry. But he was in some kind of container. He felt around him once again. He felt silky material on all sides. Then he realised where he was.

Inside a coffin. He pounded at the side then paused. He was hoping for some kind of response. The sound didn’t echo and then he pounded all sides of the coffin. He heard the same dull THUD as he thumped the sides.

The coffin had been buried.

Tom thought about the air situation but realised that he had no idea how much air was left and decided to concentrate his efforts to getting out.




Tom pounded at the sides but to no avail. Tom stopped for a moment then had an idea. He pulled at the lining material until he heard it tear. He felt behind it and felt the cold wood behind but this was not what he was looking for. Sliding his hand along the wood, he finally found what he was looking for; hinges. Tom then went to work pounding the area where the hinges were with the heel of his hands. He decided that if he was going to expire here, he would do it trying to escape.




After what seemed like many hours of pounding at the sides, Tom heard the change in the sound of the strikes, he was making progress. He ripped the material from the inside of the casket and wrapped them round his hands and continued. Shortly after he felt the wood split.

Tom continued pounding and pounding, occasionally pulling at the split in the wood, trying to prise it wider. Some dirt spilled in, making a rat-a-tat sound as it landed on the wooden base of the coffin. Tom had to work quickly to prevent himself from drowning in dirt. He positioned himself so that there was some space where he could shovel the dirt and as this area filled, Tom used his feet to pack the dirt and to give him leverage to squeeze out of the opening. He felt the material of his trousers tear as they caught on the splintered wood. Tom carried on tunnelling upwards, hoping that the surface wasn’t too far.

He found it easier to move the earth as he continued digging until, at last, his hand broke through the surface. Tom was about to give a whoop of joy when his mouth filled with mud. If he didn’t get his head above the surface soon he would suffocate. This thought drove him onwards and using every ounce of strength he broke the surface. Although it was night, what little light there was hurt his eyes. He closed them as he spat out the mud then pulled himself free from the grave.

Tom didn’t know how long he had been there but he knew he was hungry. It was an aching hunger, one that started from the gut but permeated through the body. Tom didn’t know how he knew but the hunger he had could only be satiated by one thing.

A human brain…