Monthly Archives: January 2017


I can see the start of the city in the distance. The pull is strong now, like a rope tied to my brain and dragging me in. I don’t feel like going but it wants me and I also feel like I want to know what it wants.

And the voices in my head are getting quieter, not louder as I thought they would in a city full of the re-alive. But there is also another noise in the back of my head. A buzzing sound like the insects make in the summer time.

I walked through a street lined with shops and only saw one deader. It saw me but instead of coming towards me, it just seemed to ignore me. I pulled out my handy dandy machete but it didn’t seem interested and just limped away like I wasn’t there. It didn’t seem to have a voice of the body’s owner either. But sometimes they can be quiet. Like they are hiding away in a dim corner of their own brain wishing the scariness would just stop.

I found a shop with bars on it, which meant that nobody had got inside before. Two of the bars pulled out easily when I pulled on them because the wooden window frame was rotten, and I got in and found lots of cans of food in there. And not all of it was bad, so I think I’ll stay for a while.

Well, as long as the Pull lets me.

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Posted by on 26 January in Zombie Philes


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I’ve been on a very, very long stretch of wide road for a long time now. There are only a few groups of buildings every half a days walk or so along the sides. The groups of buildings always have shops that look like they sold food in the Before. They don’t have food anymore and have been cleaned out a long time ago.

The rusted out remains of cars and lorries cover the road. Many are overturned or were pushed out of the middle of the road to let other cars through during the Happening. It’s a dangerous place to be because the deaders have lots of hiding places.

I remember I used to have another friend back in the village. Her name was Jenny and she was bitten by a deader who was trapped in a car. And I remember being sad for her because her leg fell off the next day. But I don’t think your leg just falls off after being bitten, not that I’ve ever seen happen since then, so probably it was bitten right off.

We were friends for a long time her and me until Bobby came along. Then I didn’t see her very much because Bobby and me could run and go to the edge of the village and she was too slow and couldn’t go very far from the adults because she only had one and a half legs.

I don’t think legs grow back again. I don’t know much about medicine in the Before, but I think she still only has one even now.

I don’t know what made me think of her. Probably because I don’t have a friend anymore. Maybe I should have been nicer to her and not forgotten about playing with her just because she couldn’t run and play like Bobby and me.

Probably because I’m alone and everything is scary out here, and the city wants me to go to it, and the only company I have is the deaders in my head and most of them and crazy and mean.

Probably I’m just a bad person for forgetting about her until I needed a friend and it was too late.

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Posted by on 22 January in Zombie Philes


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The further south I get, the stronger the urge to get there becomes. I don’t know what is pulling me there, but I think it has something to do with the way I can hear the deaders in my head.

I don’t like it very much because it is like somebody making me do something and it not being because I want to do it myself, but I keep going anyway.

I went the long way around a town today because Dave Eckleston told me the streets of the town were full of deaders, including himself.

It was a good trip out of the way though because I got to see an old, stone building with a cross sticking out of the pointy roof, and all of the windows were made of coloured glass with pictures of people and animals and they all wore blankets. The people that is, not the animals.

There was just one deader in there and he wore black clothes with the remains of a stiff white collar around his neck, and he asked for my forgiveness as he lumbered towards me. And as I raised my knife to sink it into his skull he blessed me, which I think is a good thing and means I’ll have good luck in the future.

I hope that’s true because it means I might find some more cans of dog soon.

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Posted by on 19 January in Zombie Philes


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I thought so. Bobby died. I woke up in the car and it was very, very quiet. Bobby’s face was sunken in like he hadn’t eaten for a very long time. His eyes were open and starting at the pattern in the ceiling of the car, but they weren’t blinking, and his mouth hung open.

I didn’t want to leave my friend for deaders to find so I set the car on fire with lots of dry leaves and twigs and things. I was down the road and around the corner a bit when there was a loud woosh and I looked back to see a big black cloud that looked like the shape of a mushroom go up. I think the stuff in the back of the car, the fuel stuff, must have make the fire really big.

That was good because it meant there wouldn’t be any more Bobby for the deaders, and he would be able to float up into the sky to see his family, but bad because deaders like things like fire so I moved faster down the road to get further away.

The deaders started coming out of everywhere to investigate, but I was far enough away that I only had to deal with a few of them.

Bye bye Bobby. I’m sorry you had a sad life and died in a lot of pain, but at least you get to be with your family now. Well, those that are re-dead anyway.

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Posted by on 13 January in Zombie Philes


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It’s been three more days now and Bobby is much, much worse.

His cut is all puffy and red and the ooze is black and sticky and smells like rotten meat. His face is sweaty and white and he can’t even get out of the back seat of the car to pee and goes in his pants.

He isn’t moaning now, but lies there breathing fast in and out and cries quietly.

I’m sad too because I don’t think Bobby is going to be better soon and I may have to go to the big city on my own. I feel something pulling me south, but I can’t leave Bobby. He couldn’t stop a deader getting him if he can’t even leave the car to pee.

The car is smelly of Bobby’s guts now so I walk around outside as much as I can and get fresh water and hunt rabbits. Bobby isn’t eating much now so there’s lots of rabbit for me. I’d prefer there was not much rabbit for me and Bobby was all better and we were still walking south, but the Alive man who is now dead changed all of that.

When I managed to lift Bobby’s shirt up to see his cut I could see red lines in his skin going up his side and down towards his leg. I think it might be spreading to other parts of his body. He is really hot and I can feel the heat coming off him when I get near.

I think Bobby will die soon which will make me sad, but will stop him from hurting anymore which is sort of a nice thing.

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Posted by on 11 January in Zombie Philes


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Bobby moaned and cried all through the night. I felt bad for him, but it was also annoying because it interrupted my sleep.

He is sweating a lot and I looked at his cut and the stitching is good, but there is brown ooze coming out of it that smells really bad. I think something inside him was cut too and might be leaking.

Bobby is my only friend and I want him to stay alive, but I don’t know what else will make him better except the stitches that I gave him and rest. There might be some medicine in an old store nearby, but I don’t know what kind you need for cuts, or how close the nearest one is.

One of the voices tells me Bobby needs a doctor and lots of antibiotics, but I don’t know where to get either of those things.

I try to keep him happy by telling him jokes, but Bobby isn’t very interested and just wants to moan. I don’t know if it is his guts that is leaking out or his sense of humour.

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Posted by on 8 January in Zombie Philes


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Bobby has been hurt and I have had to stop the bleeding with my shirt. We had a very bad day today with a Living who wanted to hurt us.

We went out this morning to find out what the motor sound was. On the road we found the tracks of wheels. Somebody had managed to get a car working and had driven past in the night. We thought that all of the fuel was bad and that getting anything working again was impossible, but the tracks were definitely from a car of some kind.

We carried on walking south which happened to be the same direction that the wheel marks went, or came from. We couldn’t tell which way it had been travelling.

When we came around a corner, there was this brown and white car. We could tell it was the one that was working because all the other cars on the roads these days are covered in dirt and rust and some even have weeds growing in and on them.

So we go up to this car to see if there is anybody in it and just as Bobby is putting his head through the open window to look in the car a man walks out of the trees on the side of the road and shouts at us.

He ran at Bobby with this long knife out and is shouting about us steeling his wheels and stuff. Bobby bangs his head on the car’s window frame pulling his head out too quickly, which must have dazed him because he doesn’t move fast enough and the man slices into his side with the knife.

I’m around the other side of the car, so can’t get there in time to stop it, but I pull out my gun and point it at the man and tell him to calm down and that Bobby didn’t want his car, but the man isn’t listening and is still shouting that he can’t trust anybody and that even the living are trying to get him. Bobby has fallen down and is holding his side and blood is coming out between his fingers.

The man lunges at Bobby just as I come around the back of the car and so I shoot and the force of the bullet throws the man off balance and he lands in the mud on the side of the road.

I can hear him wheezing as he tries to breathe but I’m more worried about Bobby and ask him if I can see where he has been hurt. It’s a deep cut along his side just below the ribs. The man is wheezing and coughing and I can see his body convulsing in the mud making a squelching noise. But his wheezing slows down and stops so I kicked him to see if he is still alive but he’s not.

To stop the blood coming out of Bobby I take off my shirt and bunch it up and press hard which makes Bobby cry, but I have to hold it hard to make the blood stop or Bobby might die.

After a while my shirt is all red, but the blood has mostly stopped. I had to hurt Bobby more when I stitched up the cut like my dad taught me a long time ago. Bobby cried a lot, but I told him I had to do it to stop his insides from falling out.

When Bobby was settled in the back of the car I checked out the boot and there are big plastic containers of something that smells like chemicals and a bit like the fat the drips off a cooking rabbit. This must be the fuel he was using in the car.

It’s a shame I had to shoot him. It would have been nice to talk to him and find out more about his Happening and After, but he was going to hurt Bobby some more, and Bobby is my friend.

We’ll sleep in the car tonight and think some more tomorrow.

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Posted by on 7 January in Zombie Philes


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