Horror Story 2: Something About the Flesh

It’s time to have a little fun with horror in the first person, and since it is in the first person, I'm going to write myself into the story.   I do enjoy playing with this genre, and after thinking about Mother’s Day, this story popped into my head. Panster that I am, I’m going to take it for a ride.


The world was different since the arrival of the new sun. Half the planet
was crying out apocalypse. The other half had metamorphosed into mindless
zombies. They blamed it on the demons. The light was too much for them to
handle. The only solution was to hide inside mortal bodies, but an
otherworldly being was not meant to have a body. The result was an
uncontrollable hunger for flesh. The planet was depleted of animal life
forms. In the presence of such impending doom there was only one thing to
do: visit the folks.

“Grab the dogs, honey. It’s going to be a long ride,” I said.

“We should be flying,” he muttered.

I shot him a speaking glance. “With the price of gas? I don’t think so.”

I tossed the dogs in the backseat of the Explorer, took a seat on the passenger and handed my hubby the keys.

He stared at the metal object as if it could burn a hole in his hand. “How did I get stuck driving?”

I refrained from snorting. “Someone has to keep the poochies from trying to bite your head.”

He clamped down on his teeth. “We should just drop them off at the kennel.”

He paused, waited for me to visually spear his right shoulder. The corners of his lips tilted slightly. He shifted gear, and we set off on the long trip to Florida.

The first two hours went fine. Then the panting started, followed by the steaming up of the windows, and the occasional drooling. And that was just from me. I shuddered to think what the dogs were doing. A quick peek over my shoulder revealed that they were parched and bored.

“I think it’s time for a pit stop,” I said.

“We’ll be in Georgia soon,” David informed.

“Okay,” I said, "but someone needs to tinkle.”

Manly nostrils flared. “Again? You peed in Kentucky.”

This time I did laugh. “No, I made us stop for chicken. I’d never forgive myself otherwise. The bathroom usage simply followed.”

“Laila, we’re entering zombie territory. We can’t keep stopping.”

I leaned back in my seat to teak a few doggie ears. “Look, we need food. Don’t we? And it’s only a few hour till Florida. Look.” I pointed to a building popping over the hill. “It’s a café.”

He tapped on the breaks. “Shit.”


He inched forward. “This is just like in the movies. A couple walks into an old café and gets butchered.”

He parked the car.


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