Ten Minute Freewrite
Today's freewrite is another dialogue prompt. Because those are so much fun. It worked out pretty well last time! Let's give this new one a shot.
"You're one of them now," she whispered softly. "Eric Samson."
And if I had any mental capacity at that moment, I might have been able to figure out what she meant by that. As it was, the only thing my senses or brain gave me was a searing hot headache and the unmistakable smell of blood.
But it wasn't my blood. I knew instinctively, but that kind of comes with the territory when you're a zombie. It's not like it could have been my blood even if I wanted it to be. Which, some part of me in the back of mind wished it could be, but I knew it wasn't.
But then who's was it? And why couldn't I see?
The sound of heavy boots against wet pavement echoed in my ears. I tried to stand and follow the sound but the searing pain followed me.
That was new to me. How long had it been since my body could feel pain? Memories of my change decades prior flashed in my rotting mind, but I had long learned to ignore those moments of weakness. Memories kept me from my mission. It kept me holding on to too much hope. Hope was dangerous when you're a zombie.
I closed my eyes, willing the pain to go away. I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I felt something warm on my face and the pain went away.
I opened my eyes.
The sun hovered over me. Actual sun. I hadn't seen that in ages either. They say that the zombie curse scared the sun away, as if it couldn't stand to stare at the atrocities on the planet it worked so hard to warm and cultivate. And honestly, it was hard not to believe them. I mean, the sun had been gone for ages, hidden behind clouds that never seemed thick enough to produce rain.
But here it was. The sun.
And I felt it on my skin.
I should have felt elated. I could feel! Yeah, I felt pain, but I could feel sunlight too! Warmth! On my skin! Maybe that lady cured me. Maybe that "one of them" comment was meant to be like, "one of them humans" or some nonsense. Right?
But why did everything feel so wrong?
I stood up and stumbled across the ground, which I discovered was a wet sidewalk. A quick sniff the the glaring sun told me the liquid was blood. Fresh blood. And not my blood.
Why couldn't I remember how I got there?
My brain tried to compile what had happened, but all I could think about was the lady who had spoken to me. She called me by a name.
But it wasn't my name. Sudden panic ran through my body, followed by a sharp blast of adrenaline. Adrenaline was new too. How did I do that with a dead body? Something was wrong. I stumbled over the blood-slick sidewalk, desperate for something that would let me see my reflection.
And then I found it. I glanced into the window of an old office building. But I didn't find my rotted, barely female corpse of a zombie staring at me. No, instead I saw the face of the man the lady named.
Eric Samson. My brother.
Okay, I'll admit I took a little longer than ten minutes to write this one. But it wouldn't let me let it go! I swear this is another one I want to keep up. I've never written zombie fiction before, but it might be fun!
What should I write next? Give me a suggestion in the comments below!