Just Another Zombie Story (1/1), Tangled
Title: Just Another Zombie Story
Fandom: Tangled
Characters & Pairings: Rapunzel/Eugene
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 940
Genre: Humor/"Horror"
Summary: Each year on the last day of October she always makes the same request: tell her a spooky story.
Author's Notes: This was totally inspired by watching Zachary Levi's Zombie PSA when I watched it on sache8's journal. Yes, there are a couple of lines lifted from it in the story.
"Tell me a spooky story."
I turn to Rapunzel who is looking at me with a hopeful look from her side of the bed. She is sitting up, her hands are clasped together in anticipation.
Her request doesn’t surprise me at all. Over the years, she had become obsessed with holidays--everything from Christmas to Halloween. (Though my personal favorite is Valentine’s Day. If you know what I mean.)
Each year on the last day of October she always makes the same request: tell her a spooky story. I'd like to tell you that I made her so terrified that she hid her face in my shoulder, needing her man to keep her save from the horrors but, sadly, the only thing I've been are to do is convince her I can't scare her.
A terrifying story about ghosts? She thought it would be cool to walk through walls.
A shockingly frightening tale about mummies? She went to the royal library and spent the entire night reading about Egyptian history.
But I've got her this year. A topic so foul, so horrible, I should feel bad telling her. (Try telling that to my wounded ego that is determined to make her shriek in horror.)
I prop myself on my elbow and look at my innocent wife who is waiting patiently for me. I lean forward and lower my voice dramatically. “Are you sure, Blondie? This could be too scary for you.”
I’m hoping that by the end of my Halloween tale, she will clutch the comforter in dread and snuggle into me to keep her safe from the imagined horrors. My hopes are dampened slightly when she shakes her head and her nose scrunches up slightly. “You’ve never managed to frighten me before, Eugene,” she painfully reminds me.
I refuse to acknowledge that inconvenient truth. “This year is different,” I assure her. “This year I’m going to tell you about...zombies!”
I get a blank look for my dramatic flare.
“Zombies?” she repeats back slowly.
“Yes, zombies!” I reach over and blow out the candlelight from my side of the bed, leaving our chambers with an eerie glow. This is perfect. “Out in the forest, there was an evil sorceress who was obsessed with creating an evil army to do her bidding and take over the world. The only problem was no one would obey her because they thought she was insane.”
My voice lowers. “And she was.”
Rapunzel blinks once. Well, at least I know I haven’t bored her to sleep yet.
“This sorceress studied the dark arts for years and finally found a solution. She would revive the dead. Then, with no free will of their own, they would obey her every command. One dark, stormy night, she went to the village graveyard and cast a spell on the corpses there. Moments later, the zombies emerged from their graves, decayed and rather ugly, if you ask me. Yet, they were strong thanks to her dark magic,” I continue.
“The spell was so powerful that one bite from these zombies would turn a normal human into a zombie themselves! She ordered them into the village where they would take over the people that had scorned her.” I pause for a second to look at Rapunzel who has the strangest look on her face. I wouldn’t call it fear, but at least she’s not clapping her hands for joy at the thought of being incorporeal like she had with last year’s ghost story.
“Led by their leader, the zombies went into the village and chased the people down. They are cruel and ruthless. No one in the village stood a chance. The zombies hunted down their loved ones and changed them into an abomination of what they once were. There were no survivors.”
Rapunzel gasps.
Well, it seems that bothered her.
“That’s terrible, Eugene,” she whispers with her eyes wide.
I nod, seizing on her interest. It won't be long until she starts trembling in fear. “Will zombies eat your children and cause mass hysteria? Of course. Will they chase you through various alleyways until they feast on your still-beating heart? Sure. But they won't stop until every person on the planet is one of them.”
And just when I think I have her ready to scream in fear, she does the unexpected.
She cries.
This is not the reaction I was going for! I sit up and run a hand through my hair, wondering what just happened. “Why are you crying?”
She sniffles. “I feel bad for the zombies.”
She feels bad for the zombies? What about the rest of humanity who are clearly running for their life in fear? “Did I mention they eat your soul?” OK, that might be an exaggeration, but I need something to get this gruesome story back on track.
She tilts her head to the side, confused. “What’s a soul?”
Oops. I guess she hasn’t started her philosophy lessons yet. “Never mind that! Zombies are foul. Their stench can be smelled for miles.”
She considers this for a second. “Are you sure the thugs at the Snuggly Duckling aren’t zombies? You can smell them from the riverbed.”
I scowl. “Yes, I’m sure."
My assertion satisfies Rapunzel. As she leans into my chest, she asks, “When are you going to get to the scary part, Eugene?”
My mouth drops open. How can anyone who was scared of a bush rustling in the forest not be frightened of a zombie infested village? Forget it, I decide, no more spooky stories for me.
Next year, we’re gonna carve a pumpkin.
Fandom: Tangled
Characters & Pairings: Rapunzel/Eugene
Rating & Warnings: PG
Word Count: 940
Genre: Humor/"Horror"
Summary: Each year on the last day of October she always makes the same request: tell her a spooky story.
Author's Notes: This was totally inspired by watching Zachary Levi's Zombie PSA when I watched it on sache8's journal. Yes, there are a couple of lines lifted from it in the story.
"Tell me a spooky story."
I turn to Rapunzel who is looking at me with a hopeful look from her side of the bed. She is sitting up, her hands are clasped together in anticipation.
Her request doesn’t surprise me at all. Over the years, she had become obsessed with holidays--everything from Christmas to Halloween. (Though my personal favorite is Valentine’s Day. If you know what I mean.)
Each year on the last day of October she always makes the same request: tell her a spooky story. I'd like to tell you that I made her so terrified that she hid her face in my shoulder, needing her man to keep her save from the horrors but, sadly, the only thing I've been are to do is convince her I can't scare her.
A terrifying story about ghosts? She thought it would be cool to walk through walls.
A shockingly frightening tale about mummies? She went to the royal library and spent the entire night reading about Egyptian history.
But I've got her this year. A topic so foul, so horrible, I should feel bad telling her. (Try telling that to my wounded ego that is determined to make her shriek in horror.)
I prop myself on my elbow and look at my innocent wife who is waiting patiently for me. I lean forward and lower my voice dramatically. “Are you sure, Blondie? This could be too scary for you.”
I’m hoping that by the end of my Halloween tale, she will clutch the comforter in dread and snuggle into me to keep her safe from the imagined horrors. My hopes are dampened slightly when she shakes her head and her nose scrunches up slightly. “You’ve never managed to frighten me before, Eugene,” she painfully reminds me.
I refuse to acknowledge that inconvenient truth. “This year is different,” I assure her. “This year I’m going to tell you about...zombies!”
I get a blank look for my dramatic flare.
“Zombies?” she repeats back slowly.
“Yes, zombies!” I reach over and blow out the candlelight from my side of the bed, leaving our chambers with an eerie glow. This is perfect. “Out in the forest, there was an evil sorceress who was obsessed with creating an evil army to do her bidding and take over the world. The only problem was no one would obey her because they thought she was insane.”
My voice lowers. “And she was.”
Rapunzel blinks once. Well, at least I know I haven’t bored her to sleep yet.
“This sorceress studied the dark arts for years and finally found a solution. She would revive the dead. Then, with no free will of their own, they would obey her every command. One dark, stormy night, she went to the village graveyard and cast a spell on the corpses there. Moments later, the zombies emerged from their graves, decayed and rather ugly, if you ask me. Yet, they were strong thanks to her dark magic,” I continue.
“The spell was so powerful that one bite from these zombies would turn a normal human into a zombie themselves! She ordered them into the village where they would take over the people that had scorned her.” I pause for a second to look at Rapunzel who has the strangest look on her face. I wouldn’t call it fear, but at least she’s not clapping her hands for joy at the thought of being incorporeal like she had with last year’s ghost story.
“Led by their leader, the zombies went into the village and chased the people down. They are cruel and ruthless. No one in the village stood a chance. The zombies hunted down their loved ones and changed them into an abomination of what they once were. There were no survivors.”
Rapunzel gasps.
Well, it seems that bothered her.
“That’s terrible, Eugene,” she whispers with her eyes wide.
I nod, seizing on her interest. It won't be long until she starts trembling in fear. “Will zombies eat your children and cause mass hysteria? Of course. Will they chase you through various alleyways until they feast on your still-beating heart? Sure. But they won't stop until every person on the planet is one of them.”
And just when I think I have her ready to scream in fear, she does the unexpected.
She cries.
This is not the reaction I was going for! I sit up and run a hand through my hair, wondering what just happened. “Why are you crying?”
She sniffles. “I feel bad for the zombies.”
She feels bad for the zombies? What about the rest of humanity who are clearly running for their life in fear? “Did I mention they eat your soul?” OK, that might be an exaggeration, but I need something to get this gruesome story back on track.
She tilts her head to the side, confused. “What’s a soul?”
Oops. I guess she hasn’t started her philosophy lessons yet. “Never mind that! Zombies are foul. Their stench can be smelled for miles.”
She considers this for a second. “Are you sure the thugs at the Snuggly Duckling aren’t zombies? You can smell them from the riverbed.”
I scowl. “Yes, I’m sure."
My assertion satisfies Rapunzel. As she leans into my chest, she asks, “When are you going to get to the scary part, Eugene?”
My mouth drops open. How can anyone who was scared of a bush rustling in the forest not be frightened of a zombie infested village? Forget it, I decide, no more spooky stories for me.
Next year, we’re gonna carve a pumpkin.