by Theo Vigo
LongBlondeHairedGirl: DAD!
Gary readies himself for an attack from the ticked off walker. Heavy thunder and lightning, strike.
Gary: ********, LISTEN TO YOUR FATHER WHEN HE GIVES YOU INSTRUCTIONS!!!!
The sound of Gary's voice puts that all too familiar fear into her, and for a moment, she is more afraid of her father than his attacker. But she still can't seem to avert her gaze, or get her legs to move.
Gary: GO NOW!!
Gary's booming voice shocks the sense back into her, and she begins to make her way out through the broken closet door just as her sick father gets taken hold of. All Gary's attempts to defend himself fail. He is far too weak to really give our zombie any type of a fight, or even a damaging blow.
When she finishes squeezing herself out of the closet, she takes one more look back through it to see her father's head in the cold grasp of our zombie's hands. Seconds later, the monster lowers it's head and takes a ripping bite out of the man. The girl dare not look, but she knows the exact moment of teeth penetrating skin by the terrible scream she hears escape her dad's throat. She has never heard him sound anything like that before, and for an instant, she finds herself paralyzed again, but quickly remembers his words, and rather than disobey her father's last order, rather than letting him die in vain, she runs away.
She runs wearily out through the bedroom door and down the hallway, her plan, to leave through the front of the cabin, but stops at the broken in door of the living room. It's fracture is much tighter than the one in the closet and bedroom doors. Even with her smaller size, she has to struggle a bit to get through. She wriggles around trying to squeeze herself in, but in her unthinking state scrapes her right ankle on a broken piece of wood. The sharp pain accelerates the process and propels her out of the hole into the living space quicker than she would have made it out otherwise. She lands on the injured foot and twists the same ankle, falling heavily down to the cabin floor. She lets out a horrifying scream that travels through the halls and into the closet, capturing our zombie's attention. He lifts his head from Gary's open carcass.
In the living room, the girl writhes about the floor in agony. The pain is like nothing she has ever felt before. Even worse than the time she broke her arm, jumping off that swing as a toddler. "I can't walk. I can't walk," replays itself over and over in her mind.
She panics. She must escape. There is a zombie in here that just killed her mother and father, and it would be after her very soon. She uses her arms to try and prop herself up, but her ankle is too weak to hold her weight, and she tumbles back down to the ground. Sadly, her assumption is correct, and she can't help but let out more cries of pain and aggravation, but she can't give up.
Inspiration comes in the form of her father's voice in her mind. His tone is from one of his scarier moments, reminiscent of one of her old baseball practices. It screams at her, saying, "No daughter of mine is gonna give up that easily!! You believe in yourself! You push!" It helps her make her next move, bringing herself up with her arms and using them, along with her good left foot, to push herself forward. Her right leg drags behind her, its twisted, slit wound rubbing against the chippy wood floor. The pain is excruciating, but she doesn't stop. She pulls herself slowly forward with her tired arms. There is no giving up until…
She sees her mother… or what used to be her mother. Mariam's corpse lay, half eaten in a bloody pool below the broken in window. The sight forces the forsaken girl to stop in her tracks. Frozen, she stares at the pile of soggy flesh. Then she thinks to herself, "Why? Why should I even fight anymore? My mother is gone, and I'm almost certain my father has suffered the same fate. Why am I trying? What the hell is the point?" The hope washes from her face as she looks at the gruesome scene under the vandalized window. The rain still pours in and trickles upon her mother's body, but as gorish as it all looks, the girl can't look away. Tears begin to well up in her eyes. Even so, there is a placidness to them, a sort of sad acceptance of the choice she is about to make.
A loud cracking sound, accompanied by a wanting growl, startles her out of her little trance, and she uses her arms to swing quickly around, landing roughly on her bum. At the door to the hallway, she sees that our zombie is finished with her father and has now come to have her. It ogles her through the crack in the door, a bit of savoring before taking his first step back into the living room.
Initially, the sight of the approaching ghoul with its unbelievable face, the blood smeared over and down its front side, is tremendously frightening. She even backs up a couple of feet using her hands, but it takes less than a few seconds for her to remember just how hopeless her life has become. She remembers all of the death and the losses she has experienced in the last week and eases her bottom gently down to the cabin floor. Looking down at her twisted ankle, she takes in a deep breath, then closes her eyes and exhales just as deeply.
When she re-opens them, she sees our zombie trying to figure out how to get back through the door. The broken in space appears to be too tight, and the clumsy brain-dead vessel can't seem to solve its exhausting puzzle. He tries to fit an arm and leg through, but no luck. He tries to get a leg through first, but his hips are too big to follow behind it. Never before has a door posed such a problem, not that he has run into many as he is now. He could probably just smash in more of the wood and make the space bigger, but that thought never crosses his vacant mind. The space is there. He should be able to get through. For him, it should be as simple as that.
The girl notices his struggle from her doomed position on the floor not too far ahead, but knows it'll only be a matter of time before he breaks through. Then, she'll be his for the taking. She gives him one last look of distain and then leans backward, all the way down until the back of her head is resting uncomfortably on the floor. Then she closes her eyes and waits, ready for this nightmare that life has become to be over.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: I'm all yours, asshole...
Our zombie is more than happy to do her this service, put a quick end to her nightmare, if he could only get through this suddenly, unbreakable door. Coming through it the first time had not been easy, but he had not had this much of a difficult time. Perhaps it is because pushing in on the door the first time around caused jagged edges of wood to spike out into the hallway side. When following her father's wishes, the young girl was smart enough to dodge all the dangerous spikes near the top, she was just a little too hurried and cut herself on the ones below. An unthinking zombie is not able to understand this, that he must be more cautious getting back through, and his frustration starts to build. He pushes and pounds and tries one more time to fit half of his body through the large crack. He gets a leg, an arm and his head part of the way through, but he can get no further.
Now greatly angered, he makes a large and frantic attempt to push himself in, but his endeavor has the reverse effect. In charging forward against the jagged wooden spikes, he is punctured by several of them. At least eight pieces of door get lodged into our zombie's front and about five get hooked into his back and side. The leg he was able to get through didn't quite make it all the way, so it's foot sits very unsteadily on the living room floor. It makes for a terrible source of leverage in his attempts to release himself. He jerks back and forth, but the more he does, the more the door tightens its splintering grasp of him.
Lying stretched out across the floor on her back, the teenager with raggedy golden locks waits patiently for her demise. But why the long wait? All she can hear are grunts and growls coming from the hallway door, but no action. When you're ready to die, all of a sudden there's a big hold up. She thought she would never have to use them again, but if he is going to take his time, she might as well. She opens her eyes and looks straight up at the ceiling staring back at her.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: (sniffs) Well, what's taking you so long…?
She brings her head upright to take a look at what has been keeping her family's killer from gifting her the same fate it had her parents, and
then she sees. Her zombie attacker is stuck in the tight, ridged space in the door. Her head instantly drops back down to meet the cabin floor.
Her exhausted expression slowly morphs into the tiniest little grin, and her chest convulses just slightly as the little grin grows into a little smile. And more, her chest's rate of convulsing rises until she breaks out into a soft chuckle. The chuckle soon grows into a laugh, and the laugh into an absolute hysterical fit. Being there to witness it, one might think she is a loon, arching her back on the floor and holding on to her tummy tightly, trying to hold in the unruly cackling.
What are the chances? This zombie had shattered all the hope and love she had left in her life. In a world where a fanatical nightmare had become a reality, her parents were her single source of comfort. Life had become total shit, but her parents had created a feeling for her that felt like old times, a piece of her past that she could look to for comfort and to bring her mind back down to earth. This zombie had taken it all away in one fell swoop, but now, when she is ready to give in, the stupid skin-bag of rotting walking crap can't even make it through a door. What type of luck is this? Hers alone.
But then, she remembers what she has lost and reality schmoozes it's way back into her head. Her hysterical laughter turns into hysterical crying, and she let's it all out.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: AARGH!!! I HATE YOU!!! YOU STUPID FUCKING BASTARD!!! I HATE YOU!!!
She screams her curses toward the ceiling, pounding her fists into the cabin's dirty timber flooring like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Our zombie watches her mental collapse from the door, still wanting to take a juicy bite out of her brains. He brawls with the thick wooden bristles just as crazily, but the vice remains steadfast and skewered.
The delirious girl continues to thrash about, and then searches manically around the floor. She spots the still beaming flashlight and scuffles over to it, grabs it and looks sharply in the direction of the zombie who is still floundering in between the door. With all the strength she can muster, she fast pitches the flashlight toward him and just misses. The flashlight slams into the face side of the door just beside his head, and then hits the floor. She growls with rage at her inaccuracy and looks around again for something else to throw. When she finds nothing, her anger compels her to get up and charge the ensnared killer, to tear him apart with her bare hands. But one step on her bad foot, and she goes careening back down to the floor, crying at the severe prick shooting up the whole right side of her body. Her hands and knees take the brunt of the rough floor, saving her face from taking the impact, while her stalker watches, wants and wriggles.
It really is hopeless. The pain from trying to run on her mangled ankle brings her out of her unstable frame of mind. She cautiously turns herself around and eases herself back down. There, she sits on the floor, out of breath, looking into the eyes of the thing that killed her parents. She is out of everything, out of hope, out of family, out of love, out of energy and out of words. There's nothing left to do now. She is tired, and if this useless zombie can't kill her, the next best thing she can think to do is sleep. If by daylight the zombie has somehow managed to break out of the door and kill her in her slumber, so be it.
She lays herself down on her left side, curling her left leg up into the fetal position, but leaving her injured right one slightly extended. The sharp pain in it is in a constant ring. She can still see our zombie, growling at her and reaching for her, trying his best to get unstuck. It is the last thing the girl sees, the last thing she hears before her eyes become too heavy, her body becomes too relaxed, and she drifts off into sleep.
ELUCIDATION
It's a bright and beautiful spring day. The girl with long blonde hair looks ravishing. Her locks are luxurious and bouncing. They catch the light from the sun and almost twinkle if looked at from the right angle. She sits in a park on this beautiful day, in a light yellow sunshine dress on a hill under a tree, in between the legs of a very attractive man, the man of her dreams. They sit under a fully bloomed sycamore in the plush green grass, her back laying against his well-built chest, his strong arms holding her gently, but firmly. The day is hot but perfect in the shade, and the grass blades tickle the bottoms of her feet as she wiggles her toes and looks past them out into a psychedelic swaying field. It is much like that scene from one of her favorite movies, the sad one about the asteroid the size of Texas. She runs her fingers lovingly up and down her man's tough and smooth forearms. Their weight rests comfortably on top of her belly and pelvis, their perfectly tanned skin glistening with a modest condensation. She leans back into him, looking up into his eyes.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: I could stay here forever.
He smiles down at her softly, and then they kiss. As the passion builds, she turns herself around fully and wraps her legs around his waist. From a distance, the full height and lushness of the freshly sprung sycamore tree, and field beyond it, is a sight to behold. They are beautiful and so is the moment. Their passion intensifies and as it does, the leaves on the tree begin to shift in color. They turn quickly from green to yellow, from yellow to orange, from orange to red, then from red to brown. Simultaneously, the sky starts to darken and black clouds gather. Wholly immersed in him and giving all her attention to her lover, she doesn't take notice of the darkening sky or the dead leaves that have started to flutter down all around her. She is so into it, and so is he. That is until one of the fluttering leaves lightly tickles her cheek on it's way down to the bed of grass, which has also turned into a brown mess.
She giggles at the leaf's touch and pulls her lips back for a moment. This is when she looks up and sees the dying tree. Almost every leaf has fallen from it, and the bark has become black and burned. It too, is chipping off and falling apart like ash.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: W-what's happening?
As she speaks, her eyes wander up the scale of the disintegrating tree.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: (sighs) I don't care. As long as I'm with you, I don't care what happens.
She snuggles into her man, trying to get more comfortable. The safety and warmth he provides is all she needs. His lips are the icing on the cake. She lifts her head from his chest to get a taste of them again, but before their lips touch she is repulsed by what her heartthrob has become. She screams and throws his arms off of her, then pushes herself roughly away from him, rolling backward a part of the way down the hill, ruining her elegant light yellow sunshine dress in the process. Lying on her stomach, she looks back up the hill at her dreamboat who has turned into a rotten, undead, man-eating corpse. It starts getting to its feet.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: Ugh, what is going on?
When the transformed hunk starts lumbering down the hill at her, the pretty girl gets up. Her dress is stained with dirt and ash, and her hair is showing early signs of some major stress. She backs away step by step as the walker gets closer. The world she walks in now is a grim one, grey, and the fields beyond the hill are charred with patches of fire scattered about. The beautiful sycamore tree is now leafless and crisped black. Glowing singes of orange course up and down it's trunk and barren branches, like blood coursing through veins. Ash, now flurries profusely from the black storm clouds above.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: Stop. Don't come any closer.
The handsome zombie doesn't listen and proceeds to close in on her. She keeps moving backward, but there's no way her tiny, slow steps will be enough to keep her out of the walking dead's reach for much longer.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: No! Stop! Just stay there!
Terrified, her hands cover her face, now drenched in tears. The ghoul is only but a few feet away from her now, and it raises both arms in classic zombie-like fashion, ready to take hold of it's victim. The hopeless, horror filled girl just continues moving back, whimpering into her hands.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: Please… Just stop…
And just as she is about to be taken… **THUMP** …she backs into something. She removes her palms from her face and looks up, surpris
ed to find that her zombie boyfriend is gone. She looks around and sees that she is no longer in a field. It has been replaced by a small room, lit with one lamp sitting on a table beside a bed that is pushed up into the center of the wall to her right. A closed door is to the left of her on the wall she bumped into, and a closed window is on the wall opposite to her.
Outside, it looks to be nighttime, but nothing can be seen through the fogged up glass. While looking at the window, she catches something in the corner of her eye. There is a girl sitting on the bed where there had not been one before. A young girl with blond hair just like her own, but shorter. This mysterious girl is crying into her palms, keeping her face concealed. As if forgetting where she had just been, backing away from a flesh eater in a smoldering field, the girl in the dirty yellow sundress gives into her curiosity and compassion. She slowly approaches the weeping girl.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: Hiiii… Hello?…. Excuse me, what's the matter? Is there something I can help you with?
The seated girl brings her head up out of her hands. Streaks of mascara have run their course down both sides of her face, and have also left their black stains on parts of her hands. This crying girl is familiar to the dreamer. She gets the unquestionable feeling that she's seen her somewhere before, and that she is in need of help.
WeepingGirl: My father, he's…
Feeling a deep concern for this crying girl whom she doesn't quite remember, the dreaming teenager brushes off her dusty sundress and takes a seat beside her. She lays a supportive hand on the sad girl's shoulder.
LongBlondeHairedGirl: Your father what? It's okay. You can tell me.
