Posts Tagged ‘zombie’

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


Day One

Posted: December 1, 2012 in zombie advent
Tags: , ,

The door opened…

The nurse stepped into the room. She glanced at the empty bed with mild surprise. It wasn’t unusual for a patient to get up from bed but the patient had shown little sign of movement in the previous few days since the coma patient opened his eyes after almost a month.

The nurse wrinkled her nose as she inhaled a pungent smell. She stepped towards the bed expecting it to be stronger there but although the smell was there, it wasn’t as strong. The nurse recognised the smell but couldn’t quite place it.

The sound of the bathroom door clicking derailed the nurse’s train of thought but the return of the odour, even stronger now finally helped the nurse to recall where she recognised the stench.

The morgue. That’s where she recognised the smell. It was the odour of rotting flesh.

She did not see the moving cadaver approach until it was too late.

The zombie tasted flesh as the nurse’s death scream echoed within the room.

The scream…..then silence.

Confirmed zombie victims….1

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).

‘T was the night before Christmas,

When all through the house

Not a creature was stirring

Except a small mouse

Now this was quite odd

As a matter of fact

It had been killed earlier

By a black and white cat

But out in the graveyard

Strange noises were heard

The undead were rising,

Fresh flesh they preferred

But the village was quiet

On this cold clear night

Nobody was there

To put up a fight

The undead were marching

As the people lay sleeping

Unaware of the threat

That was currently creeping

One of  the undead

Broke into a house

And accidentally trod

On the small zombie mouse

Inside of this home

The children were dreaming

If they awoke

They soon would be screaming

The zombie approached

Prepared for a snack

But the next thing he saw

Was inside of a sack

With a swish of a blade

The zombie head fell

This corpse now descending

Back into hell

But who held the blade

That flashed by so quick?

Enter our hero

The bearded St. Nick

After killing the zombie

He cleaned up the gore

The house was as tidy

As it had been before

St Nick sipped some sherry

Then ate a mince pie

Then left some wrapped presents

Before waving goodbye

He flicked off a crumb

From his suit made of red

Ready to continue

To fight the undead


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…

Dave the zombie carefully held his fallen eyeball and pulled out a ragged cloth that had once been white but was stained with colours from off white to blood-red. He placed the eyeball in the cloth and went to work to clean in.


Dave the zombie tried to ignore the sound but it was repeated again, this time louder and with the added sound of phlegm.

“Cough cough cough”

Dave the zombie needed to escape the hacking sounds and stepped outside the building. After the stuffiness inside, the air felt fresher than usual Dave the Zombie took a few cleansing breaths.


The owner of the excess phlegm had stepped outside and was now pulling out a cigarette from a battered looking packet. The cigarette was partly crumpled but the man attempted to straighten it out before placing it to his lips. A battered red lighter, the kind that were sold “two for a pound” in markets, appeared with the skill of a practiced conjurer and soon the man was inhaling the smoke while the tip shone brightly.

Dave the Zombie returned to the waiting room which was quieter now that the cough was absent.


This time the cough emanated from Dave the Zombie. He made the effort not to cough again and in time, he felt the desire to cough leave him although the taste of nicotine lingered on his taste buds. The smoker never returned.

Dave the Zombie waited patiently with the other patients when he heard a sharp CRACK! and felt a pain in his right ankle.

“Waghhhhhhhhhhhh” screamed the child who had just driven a heavy wooden toy car into Dave the Zombie’s leg. Then without a moment’s hesitation, the small child started playing with Dave the Zombie’s leg. The child tugged at it and pulled it this way and that until it came free, separated at the knee. The child ran away with the dismembered leg before Dave the Zombie could make a sound of complaint.

“Graaaaaaghhhhh,” he said meaning “can someone pass me a walking stick.”

Dave the Zombie found a makeshift walking stick from a broken hat stand and got to his foot and went off in search of the child who had stolen his leg.

It took a few minutes before Dave the Zombie found the child playing in an empty examination room.

Dave the Zombie returned to the waiting room with leg back where it belonged, albeit facing the wrong way and was strapped with the hat stand and medical tape. He sat back down into the suddenly quieter waiting room.

And waited…