It was a cool spring night. I caught the scent of fresh blood and my hunger made me pursue. I didn't like the fact that I had an overwhelming hunger for the flesh of the living, but it was all I could eat anymore. I've tried eating grains and fruits and vegetable, and even the processed meat of cattle and poultry, but none of them satisfied my hunger. I needed brains. Fresh brains.
So, here I was wondering through an African swampland, following the smell of life. Ever since my change, my sight has been poor and my hearing has nearly vanished. If it hadn't been I may have seen or heard the splashing as the giant reptile lunged from the tall grass to my right and latched onto my thigh. It twisted and pulled until my entire bottom torso ripped free. I felt nothing, as my nerves have long ago died and rotted. Here I now lie. A torso with no legs, a victim to the workers of nature, the beetles and flies who feast upon my dead flesh. Life enduring from living death. How ironic. Is ironic the right word here? How should I know? I'm a rotting zombie without any legs, and I have lost my battle to the crocodile...
2 comments:
Good enough?
That was fucking sweet.
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