Forsaken Dreams

I smiled at my finished sketch. I missed this.

I packed everything up and started to head back down from the cave. Careful not to slip on the rocks and fall.

I finally reached the bottom, breathing heavily in exhaustion. Now, time to go back to the house.

Still with the hatchet in hand, I walked steadily but quickly.

I was almost there. I could see the house. It was about a football field away. I was walking quicker now, hoping I wouldn’t be trapped by the zombies ahead.

That’s when I heard it. That noise coming from behind me. It wasn’t the moaning, but something else entirely. So indistinct.

I froze.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t turn around. I stood there stuck to the road. It felt like cement was keeping me there.

And when I finally had the strength to turn around, I see them. The zombies swarming. But they weren’t just any zombies.

Because among them I could see one. The one who bore me for nine months, the one who gave life to me. Who loved and cherished everything I did. Taught me how to read, to ride a bike.

That zombie. . . was my mother.