(bringing this back) Tiny Story Thursday: It was only after you killed the fifth zombie that you began to wonder why they were all knocking on the door holding bags of candy.
They don't stop coming.
It's clear they're hungry, but why do they always ring the doorbell?
Am I the Omega man?
Do they want to tempt me to join their cannibalistic hive?
I won't, however many I need to take out, however stained my hands become.
The doorbell... Again.
It's another one, this one without any flesh. No more than a skeleton... Is that a witch with him?
This has to stop.
I'll stop it.
"Trick or tr--
Well, NOW it all makes sense ... I forgot it was Halloween! But, I’m in BIG trouble now.
Those zombies I killed ... They weren’t zombies at all. They were just children with bags of candy. But, how would I know?
I feel awful, but hey, I thought I was defending myself. Will the police buy this as an excuse? I’m afraid not!
Anybody know a good defense lawyer?
You wonder if it could be because you didn't give any treats to the children knocking on your door last Halloween.
Could this be their trick, their revenge?
But no, these wretched children aren't wearing costumes. An overpowering smell of decay and the filthy, bloody rags they wear tell you they're real zombies.
You slam the door shut.
You hear scratching, the sound of glass breaking.
They chant something.
No, it's... BRAIN!
You open the door a bit.
One child doesn't smell or look bad and shrieks "let me in, help me, please!"
You open the door, yank the child inside, and slam the door shut again.
You take the kid, a weeping boy about ten years old to the living room, hold him close to you, making soothing sounds, telling him it's alright, he's safe, you'll defend the house.
You hear a moan.
Teeth sink into your throat, tearing, gnawing. Blood gushes out.
You feel dizzy, then a sharp pain near your temple.
The boy's shriek of BRAIN is the last you hear before you die.
I’ll participate because we seem to be lackin.
It was humid today. Maybe it has something to do with the outbreak? The news has broadcasted corrupted younglings everywhere. They roam the streets, expecting ransoms from every house they come across. I will never appease the zombies. This house must be defended to the death. My count was 14. 14 that will threaten no one any longer. I am a protector, a guardian, a god of sorts to the community. It wasn’t until the following morning the SWAT team surrounded my house. Have they come for my help? I do have a good reputation with the bodies on my front lawn. Monday, at 8:32 I was pinned to the ground. They began reading me rights. Have I been promoted? Maybe it was time to prove my worth in the courtroom. The judge immediately told me I was facing 50 to life (life as a zombie killer? No way!). To my demise, the man defending me was a total idiot. He said I didn’t do it and the glove didn’t fit. He was the man who got OJ off. I walked free.
I’m so confused
I’m excited to read these
Make a short story based on the topic in the question. All it is lol
There's gotta be zombies in it 😏
Mine had no actual zombies.
(the question is a writing prompt, an idea off of which to build a story. The point is to make a story from it.)