Check out this excerpt from an upcoming short story about…zombies. Read on, if that’s your thing. Best of days to all, and thanks for dropping by.
No, this was real. And it was scary. And it was happening right before our eyes whether we were ready for it or not. All our lives, we live and breathe and feel invulnerable, like no disaster will ever reach our shores…like nothing bad will ever happen to tear our own little personal worlds apart. And when it does happen, everything we’ve ever known, understood, prepared for…gets thrown out the fucking window. “Yeah, zombies”, I said again into the silence, and it broke that silence like a rock through a pane of old glass. “What the fuck was that?“, Sam whispered into the dim light, and I heard him say “Oh shit, that back door”, and he took off and made his way to the back. I told Sally to wait here while me and another guy followed Sam to the back of the place. I heard it then too…a bumping or knocking sound coming from outside the door. Maybe they were trying to get in. We all looked at each other, and slowly and silently moved our way to toward the door.
Grab a drink, post up in a chair, and take a few minutes to dig into this little story snippet. Thanks for reading; let me know what you think. Stay creative.
At long last, it appeared as though they were nearing their destination; the deeper they got, the more the forest seemed to close in tightly around them, and the unmistakable rustle of the oversized jungle leaves grew nearer. Up ahead, the driver finally made the decision to ease up on the gas, and the bus began to slow its pace as the road began to narrow. His heart began to race at the anticipation of what existed outside the comfort of the bus, and as this was his first international assignment, he was eager to get his feet wet and explore.
The bus’ brakes began to squeal loudly as it came to a slow stop. They were approaching a large clearing, surrounded by the intensely rich green of the surrounding jungle. The air began to surge in through the windows, and with a shudder, the bus came to a complete halt. He glanced around the bus, and all within were hurriedly gathering themselves and their belongings, stretching tired bodies and sleeping limbs from such a long journey. She was collecting her bag, and running her fingers through her wind tousled hair; she wore a green jacket that hugged her body just right, and she pulled on a well-worn cap that rested comfortably over her eyes.
Take a gander, if you’d like, and let me know what you think. Happy weekend; stay creative.
He rode slowly and haughtily toward the beast; his approach was strewn with pride at felling such a mighty animal. The others rode the clearing, picking off the last of the exhausted herd, and he reached the animal as it writhed its last frenetic movements. The beast lay dying, an arrow through its chest, drawing its last breaths. He watched the king dismount and walk toward him with knife drawn. His last view consisted of the king, knife in hand, approaching him and drawing the glistening blade across his neck, thus finishing the job. The hunt was over, and the men cheered with pride at their success.
The camp was ripe with the talk of the day; bold stories intermixed with tall fables resounded over the group, and each man enjoyed his share of the well cooked venison. The fires simmered and the king made his rounds with the men, hearing each man’s tale with a warm smile and a ready ear.
Read on if you'd like; if so, thank you for taking the time to do so. Best of days to all.
The bus veered around a series of winding corners, and they slowly and methodically snaked their way deep into the trees. He surprisingly managed to drift in and out of sleep periodically with each bump and sway of the ancient machine as it rocked him to sleep. The old driver tamed the turns like a seasoned pro, and managed to swerve deftly around each craggy bend; any driver with normal nerves would surely not have attempted that type of road with the type of speed that this guy was able to conjure up. It was actually quite a shock that the old scrap heap was able to generate any speed at all, he mused. One look at that thing and you’d think it must’ve been George Washington’s motor coach. That fucker had to have been at Valley Forge. A good jolt jarred him from his sleep, and he sat up wide-eyed in the seat. He gave a quick, slumber induced glance around the bus in order to get his bearings, and noticed that her eyes had closed and her head was tilted back against the seat. Her head shifted gently from side to side with each curve of the road, and she looked so peaceful like that, he thought, her head dancing along with the movement of the bus. The breeze forced its way in and caught fragile tufts of her hair in its grasp, and sent it flying rapidly in front of her face. She was beautiful.
Just a random excerpt from an as yet untitled story. Kick back and enjoy, and thank you for reading.
The phone's ringing jarred him unpleasantly from his daydreams, and he carelessly decided against answering it. His thoughts were much more interesting than any words on the other end of the line. He looked over his shoulder at her, and watched as her hair fell gently over her eyes, and he longingly watched as she guided the strands softly behind her ear. He drank the image of her in like water, and silently admired her beauty. She was the stuff of his daydreams, and he watched her fingers delicately glide across the keys on her keyboard, beautiful hands that were very much a major player in his thoughts. Her eyes were so welcoming…the kind that you want to lose yourself in. The kind that make you want to say “to hell with the world”, and remain in forever. They were a world in themselves, a secret refuge. She caught him staring at her at that moment, and flashed him the loveliest of smiles, so inviting, so genuine, a smile that opened the door to her own secret world.
I decided that I’d refuse to let a building define me. I’d refuse to allow any company, or entity, or job, or anything define who I was as a person. As a human. As a man. The contents of that building did not define my success. My success was not in there. It’s in here. It’s within my chest. Within this soul. I am defined by who I am, and what I do…what I believe and what I feel…what I’m capable of…not by the whim of some fucking corporation. Interestingly, it was brought to my attention that I may be afraid to move forward, that I feared success more than I feared failure. The thought of that shit had me up in arms, like “what?” You’ve got to be kidding me, right? “All I want is success”, I’d tell myself. But you know what? Maybe I was.