The scariest Halloween story you will ever read: GUARANTEED TIMES A MILLION!
Title: Late Morning of the Living
Author: M. McGregor
Warnings: If you're easily scared: LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! (Also: Zombies)
Notes: I originally wrote this story for Christmas, but I figured what the heck, I might as well post it now.
“Brains?” the pretty woman with half a face and almost a full eyeball asked. She gesticulated clumsily in the direction of the menu.
“Uhhh, brains,” Rob replied. It was hard to decide what he wanted. Everything looked so good.
“Brains. Braaaaaiins,” the woman replied cheerfully. She turned back to the kitchen workers behind her. “Braaains!”
“Brraaaaiins,” one of the workers said, then worked its -- Rob couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman -- jaw up and down a few times. The left half of the jawbone was disconnected from its face, and the remaining bone popped loudly as it moved. “Brains!”
“Brains,” the woman said to Rob. She held out her hand, palm up. She was missing two fingers and half of her thumb, but she was able to close the remaining digits over the blood-soaked ten dollar bill that Rob placed in her decaying palm. The woman let out a gurgling choking noise as she bashed at the cash register with her other hand -- other stump, actually -- and then finally put the money away.
Rob hissed out air through his damaged trachea and let his one working eye roam around the fast-brains store while he waited for his meal to be finished. There were only a few customers in the store this early. Most zombies didn’t come out for brainsfast until well after noon, but he had spent most of his unlife being an early bird.
It was just another average day for Rob. He had stumbled out of the dark abandoned warehouse he shared with three hundred other zombies bright and early that morning, then pushed his way through the mass of bodies until he made his way into the harsh light of day. Then he had stumbled to the fast-brains store and got his brainsfast. Afterwards, he would spend a productive day ambling up and down the city streets talking with his zombie friends.
Yes, unlife was pretty nice in this utopic society he and his fellow undead had crafted for themselves. He was sure it would last forever: or at least until they had all decayed to the point where they could no longer move, but that wouldn’t be for a few centuries at least.
Rob scratched his liver and then pushed one of his exposed ribs back into place. It sure was taking them a long time to make his brains. What was taking so long? He had a lot of ambling to do today. He still wanted to know just what the hell Greg had meant yesterday when he’d said, “BRRRaaaaIIIIINS.” That had been weighing heavily on Rob’s mind all night.
“Brains,” someone whispered in quiet astonishment. Rob tried to turn to look, but his neck snapped and his head lolled to one side. He gargled blood and pus through his mangled throat and then swiveled his entire body to look sideways at the speaker. A man with one leg and a completely exposed torso was gaping out the window. His eyes were wide, but Rob wasn’t sure if that was from fright or because he had no eyelids. When the man spoke again, it became clear that it was in fright. “Braaaiiins!”
“Brains? Brains? Brraains?” came the confused replies of the other patrons of the store. Everyone shambled to the window to see what had so shaken the torso-less man. Rob made his way to the window as well, dragging his one useless leg behind him and doing his best to realign his neck as he went.
What he saw shook him from the tip of his exposed skull to the bottom of his corroded toes.
There was a man ambling down the street.
No. That wasn’t right. He was not ambling. He was striding. He was walking with his head held high. He had two eyes, two arms, two legs, a torso, and skin covering his entire musculature. His clothing was clean and lacked holes or tears. His hair was clean. He was clean.
“BRAINS!” a woman shrieked from beside Rob. “BRRAAIIINS!”
“Brains!” Rob roared back at her. She was hysterical. There was no such thing as the Nondead. This was some kind of Zombiewood hoax.
“Braaaaaaaaiiiiiiinnnssss!” groaned the woman, jabbing the stump of her upper arm towards the window. Rob couldn’t argue with that logic. How could such a thing be faked? The way the man walked, it was so confident and graceful. He never stumbled even once as he made his way down the street. He even had shoes on.
Rob felt a sick feeling of liveliness in the distended pit of his stomach. Could this be real? Could this be the Beginning Time?
The man was getting closer. The zombies inside the fast-brains store were beginning to panic. “Brains? Braaains! Brains brains! BRRAAAINS!”
“BRAINS!” Rob belched through the black blood gurgling out of the hole in his neck. “Brains!”
The others silenced. Rob held up his one good hand and pointed to his half-ear. “Brains.”
They did as they were asked and remained quiet, all listening intently. At first they could hear nothing but the sounds of various guts and fluids splattering onto the floor. Then, almost inaudible at first, they could hear the striding man’s voice.
“I am interested in eating something nutritionally valuable and preferably well-cooked!”
“BRRAAAIIINSS!” two of the women shrieked. They pivoted on their stumps and shuffled as quickly as they could for the exit. Rob and two others blocked their path. Were they trying to get them all resurrected!?
“Someone please get me a steak, medium-well, and perhaps some potatoes and a nice salad!” the man outside called in a clear and easily understood voice.
“Brains brains brains, brains brains, brains brraaains, brraaaiiiiins, brains brains. Brains brains: brains,” Rob told the others.
“Brains braiiins, brrraaains,” the woman behind the counter agreed. The others all nodded, groaned, or otherwise gave their agreement. It was their only chance. If they could slip out the back before the Nondead man spotted them, they might unlive through this day.
It took them all nearly ten minutes to shuffle, moaning and groaning in fear, to the back of the shop. There, the woman who’d been working the counter (her name was either Jane or Blain, it was hard to tell because her tongue had begun to fall out) took another two minutes to grasp the key in her mangled hand and open the lock on the back door. Rob’s heart felt as if it were pounding twice a minute. They could hear the man at the front of the store now, his voice loud and demanding.
“Does anyone have a hot pocket? I would settle for a bowl of cereal or maybe some oatmeal!”
“BRRAAIINS!” one of the women groaned, and clutched at Rob for comfort with her stumps. Rob drooled a little and then reached out to grasp the door handle. It was hard to get a good grip, but soon he had it.
He swung the door open.
A woman stood on the other side. She was dressed in untattered jeans, leather boots, and a sweatshirt. She smiled at them with a hideous set of unbroken teeth and said, “Hello, do you have any ice cream?”
Rob screamed. “BRRAAAIIIIIINNNNSSSSSS!”
But it was too late. The Late Morning of the Living had begun.
THE END.
Author: M. McGregor
Warnings: If you're easily scared: LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU! (Also: Zombies)
Notes: I originally wrote this story for Christmas, but I figured what the heck, I might as well post it now.
“Brains?” the pretty woman with half a face and almost a full eyeball asked. She gesticulated clumsily in the direction of the menu.
“Uhhh, brains,” Rob replied. It was hard to decide what he wanted. Everything looked so good.
“Brains. Braaaaaiins,” the woman replied cheerfully. She turned back to the kitchen workers behind her. “Braaains!”
“Brraaaaiins,” one of the workers said, then worked its -- Rob couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman -- jaw up and down a few times. The left half of the jawbone was disconnected from its face, and the remaining bone popped loudly as it moved. “Brains!”
“Brains,” the woman said to Rob. She held out her hand, palm up. She was missing two fingers and half of her thumb, but she was able to close the remaining digits over the blood-soaked ten dollar bill that Rob placed in her decaying palm. The woman let out a gurgling choking noise as she bashed at the cash register with her other hand -- other stump, actually -- and then finally put the money away.
Rob hissed out air through his damaged trachea and let his one working eye roam around the fast-brains store while he waited for his meal to be finished. There were only a few customers in the store this early. Most zombies didn’t come out for brainsfast until well after noon, but he had spent most of his unlife being an early bird.
It was just another average day for Rob. He had stumbled out of the dark abandoned warehouse he shared with three hundred other zombies bright and early that morning, then pushed his way through the mass of bodies until he made his way into the harsh light of day. Then he had stumbled to the fast-brains store and got his brainsfast. Afterwards, he would spend a productive day ambling up and down the city streets talking with his zombie friends.
Yes, unlife was pretty nice in this utopic society he and his fellow undead had crafted for themselves. He was sure it would last forever: or at least until they had all decayed to the point where they could no longer move, but that wouldn’t be for a few centuries at least.
Rob scratched his liver and then pushed one of his exposed ribs back into place. It sure was taking them a long time to make his brains. What was taking so long? He had a lot of ambling to do today. He still wanted to know just what the hell Greg had meant yesterday when he’d said, “BRRRaaaaIIIIINS.” That had been weighing heavily on Rob’s mind all night.
“Brains,” someone whispered in quiet astonishment. Rob tried to turn to look, but his neck snapped and his head lolled to one side. He gargled blood and pus through his mangled throat and then swiveled his entire body to look sideways at the speaker. A man with one leg and a completely exposed torso was gaping out the window. His eyes were wide, but Rob wasn’t sure if that was from fright or because he had no eyelids. When the man spoke again, it became clear that it was in fright. “Braaaiiins!”
“Brains? Brains? Brraains?” came the confused replies of the other patrons of the store. Everyone shambled to the window to see what had so shaken the torso-less man. Rob made his way to the window as well, dragging his one useless leg behind him and doing his best to realign his neck as he went.
What he saw shook him from the tip of his exposed skull to the bottom of his corroded toes.
There was a man ambling down the street.
No. That wasn’t right. He was not ambling. He was striding. He was walking with his head held high. He had two eyes, two arms, two legs, a torso, and skin covering his entire musculature. His clothing was clean and lacked holes or tears. His hair was clean. He was clean.
“BRAINS!” a woman shrieked from beside Rob. “BRRAAIIINS!”
“Brains!” Rob roared back at her. She was hysterical. There was no such thing as the Nondead. This was some kind of Zombiewood hoax.
“Braaaaaaaaiiiiiiinnnssss!” groaned the woman, jabbing the stump of her upper arm towards the window. Rob couldn’t argue with that logic. How could such a thing be faked? The way the man walked, it was so confident and graceful. He never stumbled even once as he made his way down the street. He even had shoes on.
Rob felt a sick feeling of liveliness in the distended pit of his stomach. Could this be real? Could this be the Beginning Time?
The man was getting closer. The zombies inside the fast-brains store were beginning to panic. “Brains? Braaains! Brains brains! BRRAAAINS!”
“BRAINS!” Rob belched through the black blood gurgling out of the hole in his neck. “Brains!”
The others silenced. Rob held up his one good hand and pointed to his half-ear. “Brains.”
They did as they were asked and remained quiet, all listening intently. At first they could hear nothing but the sounds of various guts and fluids splattering onto the floor. Then, almost inaudible at first, they could hear the striding man’s voice.
“I am interested in eating something nutritionally valuable and preferably well-cooked!”
“BRRAAAIIINSS!” two of the women shrieked. They pivoted on their stumps and shuffled as quickly as they could for the exit. Rob and two others blocked their path. Were they trying to get them all resurrected!?
“Someone please get me a steak, medium-well, and perhaps some potatoes and a nice salad!” the man outside called in a clear and easily understood voice.
“Brains brains brains, brains brains, brains brraaains, brraaaiiiiins, brains brains. Brains brains: brains,” Rob told the others.
“Brains braiiins, brrraaains,” the woman behind the counter agreed. The others all nodded, groaned, or otherwise gave their agreement. It was their only chance. If they could slip out the back before the Nondead man spotted them, they might unlive through this day.
It took them all nearly ten minutes to shuffle, moaning and groaning in fear, to the back of the shop. There, the woman who’d been working the counter (her name was either Jane or Blain, it was hard to tell because her tongue had begun to fall out) took another two minutes to grasp the key in her mangled hand and open the lock on the back door. Rob’s heart felt as if it were pounding twice a minute. They could hear the man at the front of the store now, his voice loud and demanding.
“Does anyone have a hot pocket? I would settle for a bowl of cereal or maybe some oatmeal!”
“BRRAAIINS!” one of the women groaned, and clutched at Rob for comfort with her stumps. Rob drooled a little and then reached out to grasp the door handle. It was hard to get a good grip, but soon he had it.
He swung the door open.
A woman stood on the other side. She was dressed in untattered jeans, leather boots, and a sweatshirt. She smiled at them with a hideous set of unbroken teeth and said, “Hello, do you have any ice cream?”
Rob screamed. “BRRAAAIIIIIINNNNSSSSSS!”
But it was too late. The Late Morning of the Living had begun.
THE END.