“So it has come here to end, the place where it all started, how convenient,” Dale snarls as he clutches the shovel tightly. “Are we safe to assume that it’s definitely a nest, and not a sole ghoul or two like the trapper said back in town?”
“It’s definitely a nest, the damage to the wildlife around this farmhouse tells us that!” Stephan says as he looks across the landscape beyond the farmhouse.
“What, the lack there of it?”
“Yeah, only a nest will feed on anything that roams. A loner or and couple of them, they don’t have such a big impact, not like nests, not like this.”
“So, how FUCKING many are you thinking are in here? Seven or eighth?”
“More like fifty,” he says with a uneasy smile.
“Get the FUCK out! How the hell are WE supposed to take on a nest of FIFTY!”
With a playful wink Stephan scrambles to his feet and takes a few steps back, pulling back a molotov-cocktail as he does. “The same way we always do,” he scoffs as he lights the dirty rag that hangs from the bottle before hurtling it through an open window. The bottle smashes and a fiery tongue licks out the window, followed by a hundred screams or more. The smile disappears from
Stephan’s face as his eyes lock with the petrified Dale while a sea of zombies charge out of the windows, some on fire, some not, but regardless they all have the same desire, to feast on the flesh of that which is living. Stephan turns and runs in panicked terror, while Dale doesn’t even get to get to his feet as the horde engulf him in a violent explosion of red.
“Fuck!” Stephan grunts beneath his breath seconds before he loses his footing and stumbles down the hillside. He tumbles like a boulder downwards, while the ravenous nest follows quickly behind. With a grotesque thud he hits the bottom of the deep ravine, knocking every ounce of air from him momentarily. For more moments than he likes the world spins like a turntable, while black and white explosions erupt randomly across his vision. Desperately he staggers to his feet, gazing upward as the sea of zombies pour over the edge towards him. He curls up his lips and grits his teeth as he quickly limps away, heading towards the waiting beat-up old pickup that holds his salvation. His hands search his pockets in desperation as he hears the horde crash to the ground behind him. His eyes widen with terror as his hands move across his body frantically, patting every pocket more than once, while a waterfall cascades down his brow. He reaches the pickup still searching desperately for the keys as he grabs at the handle, pulling the door open to his surprise. He lets out an exhausted sigh, and leaps in the cabin, slamming the door behind him. The sea of zombie’s crashes into the pickup, sending it heaving up on its side.
Stephan leaps behind the steering wheel, pulling the visor down, and tearing open the glove box. “Fuck!” he hisses as he leans back in the seat, still keyless. He casts a wayward glance over to the size window, as a dozen or more zombies push themselves up against it, and he takes a stuttered breath in, as he looks into Dale’s dead eyes, and spies the keys still firmly in his grasp. “Fuck!” he hisses again, as the glass cracks seconds before it completely gives way, and the zombies begin to spill in.
Follow the below link to purchase A Twisted Kiss On New Year’s Eve 2022 and read all 31 five minute short stories.
Before you lies a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know or imagine. For scrawled in blood upon the pages hidden within the above tome is stories twisted thirty-one in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to answer, five minutes to sin, five minutes to do almost anything. A god, a demon, a harlot, a whore. A fascist, a killer, a sinner, a door. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too…
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