Today was either objectively terrible and great. Terrible because of circumstances entirely out of my control. Great because I had a very productive day with respect to writing.
To cheer myself up, I’ve decided to polish up my latest zombie flash fiction. (with a little help from my friends, of course – get a blog or something so I can properly credit/praise you!) My logic is, if I make somebody smile, I’ll feel good, and to quote the late (and great) Jack Layton:
“My friends: Love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair.” – Jack Layton
I have to say, those words really inspired me. While I may have no aspirations towards political life, I find these are words to live by. So, even though it feels like my life is falling apart, I know there is hope and I need to stay away from the trap of despair.
But you’re not here to listen to me wax poetic about Jack Layton’s philosophies, or my life. You want some zombies.
Don’t worry, I deliver. This will eventually make its way to Smashwords and Amazon, but I have no cover art as of yet.
Content Warnings: Violence (zombies), mature situations (zombies), may not be suitable for the comedically impaired.
Zombie Pride:
The steering wheel was slick with Rex Parson’s sweat. He was a stout, rotund little man. He wore oversized sunglasses that dominated the upper-half of his face. He was sweating profusely under the hot sun. He was anxious, and excited to do God’s work. He was a preacher in a small town church, and he was known for his strength of faith and conviction that homosexuality could be cured through prayer. As he drove to the city’s first annual Gay Pride parade, he felt a quiver of trepidation in his gut. The blatant immorality had to be stopped, and he was the one who was going to show those vile homosexuals that God was to be feared!
He reflected on the hours he’d spent alone at his computer, researching the complete moral degradation that was present at any Pride event. The images of the men’s perfectly toned, oiled bodies made his heart race, and he’d had trouble looking away from them. He knew the lifestyle was sin, and that it was his place to show the wrongdoers the errors of their ways before they tempted weaker souls. He’d decided to undertake this trip alone. He didn’t want to expose his congregation to this blasphemy. This was his trial, his war against the sordid abyss.
He expected the worst–a celebration of blatant carnality in defiance of God and all his laws. He knew he was the last thing that stood between the average person and acceptance of this abomination. He knew the weak-minded women and children would be easily swayed by the display of rippling, masculine perfection, and they would spread the disease of tolerance and appeasement to the rest of their population. Just as they lead Adam to sin, they would lead society to its secular downfall.
He pulled into an available parking spot about a block from the parade route. He seized his well-worn Bible from the passenger’s seat. He would don the armor of God spiritually, but physically, all he had was the Good Book. He would smite any and all who tried to force temptation upon him! He was the last pure soul.
The harsh sun glistened on his balding head. He saw a woman, her exotic costume’s wings torn and dragging behind her, running from the parade. She didn’t turn to look back. It was a clear sign from God–he was needed here to quell the rampant immortality before more minds fell under the sway of the devil.
He charged to the street corner and looked towards the awesome chaos. Bodies lay trampled in the middle of the streets, and shop windows had been smashed. The bright colors of the parade’s decor were strewn across the ground. Rex stepped over a barely-clothed man’s battered and bloody body. The man grasped at Rex’s leg and Rex kicked his arm away in revulsion as he continued towards the epicenter of the strife. He held his Bible tight against his chest, secure in the belief that God would protect him from evil.
A cacophony of terrorized screams echoed around the buildings, the sounds twisting together to become one harmonic, agonized voice. The symphony of horror was punctuated by ghoulish shrieks and howls. A bloody man wearing only black leather chaps leapt from an alleyway and raced towards Rex. “They’re coming! Run!” the man cried out breathlessly. Rex found himself distracted by the man’s powerful, intimidating physique.
“God will protect me!” Rex uttered with contempt. Clearly, this fear and chaos was divine retribution from God. There was no other explanation.
Rex began walking down the alley. He saw three figures crouched over somebody. Their backs were turned to him and they moved frantically over the fallen man. He knew this was his time. “Sinners! Repent and open your hearts to our Lord, Jesus Christ!” he shouted, speaking with a familiarity gleaned from performing so many prayer sessions for homosexual deviants. He knew exactly what they needed to hear.
The forms stirred in the distance. They turned to face him. They were all women, hair cropped short and dressed in simple jeans and white t-shirts. Under normal circumstances, Rex would have admonished them for abandoning the femininity that was demanded of them, but not this time. As they stood, they revealed the still-twitching body of a man, and they turned their faces, smeared in blood, towards him. They were coated in crimson essence from the neck-down, and it soaked through their t-shirts, which clung to their swaying breasts.
Rex took a step back; his hands trembling as they grasped his heavy Bible. He didn’t know what these demon women were, but he knew it wasn’t of God. “Jesus said: I am the way, the –” he said, but he was cut off by their infernal howls. He froze. The sound wasn’t natural.
The women ran towards him, leaping over gruesomely disfigured bodies. He raised his Bible; it was the only object he had to defend himself with. One of them pulled ahead of the others. He swung the hefty book, hitting her in the face. She shrieked as she careened into the wall. The others were gaining ground, close behind her. Rex braced himself and readied his Bible for another smite. It had a bloody imprint on it where it hit the first woman’s face.
He swung the book with all his strength, grazing a stocky blonde-haired woman. She leapt for him and her weight knocked them both to the ground. Rex felt his head slam painfully against the pavement, and the impact knocked the wind from his lungs. As he flailed against the formidable strength of his ungodly assailant, his Bible dropped from his left hand. He felt vulnerable and unprotected for the first time in his life.
The second woman, a brunette with large brown eyes dove onto him, immediately sinking her teeth into his exposed throat. Rex tried to scream despite his painfully empty lungs, but he could not. His arms shook, but would not respond to his will. Fear overcame him as the blonde woman shoved her face into his exposed jowls as she tore the flesh from his face. He couldn’t breathe, and the taste of his own blood crept into his mouth through his ruined face. His world turned red with pain, he couldn’t help but ponder: Why has God forsaken me?
Thea Gregory's Zombie Bedtime Stories 
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