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A conscience in the undead? |
He smelled. It was a stink that filled his nostrils and made him want to vomit whatever was in his stomach. He hurt all over too, his head fuzzy with stink and pain. He climbed out of bed and heard his bones crack. He died in the night. He died of a simple heart attack. Now he was something else. He stared around the bedroom, feeling a hunger building inside his gut. His mouth was dry, he smacked his lips together. He stood with a jerk, realizing his joints had seized. He looked back at the bed, his wife was still sleeping. He had a vague memory of her. He seemed to have trouble remembering the red nightgown she was wearing and had she lost weight. He staggered out of the room and into the hallway. Kids still sleeping, he thought as he made his way down the stairs. His legs couldn’t quite grasp stairs and he tumbled down to the living room below. He slowly stood up and made his way to the kitchen. “Coffee,” he groaned. Though he remembered this “Coffee,” he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He instinctively went to the cupboard and grabbed a can of something. He opened another and retrieved a cup. When he turned to the refrigerator he saw his own reflection. He was a bit alarmed by the amount of red covering him from face to toes. He had a flash of memory. Susan jumped into bed. She wanted to wake her husband. She was wearing a brand new negligee and wanted some attention. Bobby groaned in his sleep, Susan giggled and shook him harder. He groaned and turned to his horny wife. Her smile disappeared as he lunged on top of her, his milky white eyes devouring her as quickly as his teeth. Bobby fell awkwardly to the kitchen floor. He loved his wife. She was his world, she was beautiful and delicious. Hunger hit him again. Bobby heard his daughter come down the stairs. “What Stinks!” She yelled back up the stairs. He crouched to pounce. She came around the breakfast bar as her Daddy rose up and grabbed her. Her surprise was replaced by the knowledge of where the stink was coming from. Her father held her, teeth grinding, moaning and covered in blood. She new what he was now. Her mind wandered to her mother and then back to all the blood. “Daddy!” she yelled. Bobby was so hungry. He smelled the blood. He needed to feed, just a taste. His mind flashed blurry images of his daughter. He was pushing her on a swing, both of them laughing. “Higher Daddy!” she squealed. Bloody tears spilled from his dead eyes. Just a taste, he bit down hard and tore a large chunk of flesh. His daughter screamed in pain as she fell backward out of the dead things grip. She sat in shock, watching her father devour his own arm. |