Another Dream

He sat looking at something he couldn’t quite see clearly. Not anymore. Not like he could a few minutes ago. The stuff was kicking in and it was good. Exactly what he paid for. Somehow in that moment he realized that all the lunch money he scrounged up and the games he sold at the Gamestop was paying off. He couldn’t feel a thing. He couldn’t see a thing. It was good.

Make me forget and make me feel alive.

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling and watched as it turned into a swirling blur. Moving around like the ebb and flow of tides, he saw the paint change colors and dance in front of his eyes. He grinned at it and reached for the sky. He extended his fingers as far as he could and he strained them as much as they would go. They felt like they were about to budge, to break, to pop out and shoot all the way to the top. He couldn’t reach. Then he started to remember everything else. The other things he couldn’t reach. Those objects in his mind and in front of his eyes that he couldn’t even touch.

She said she was okay with just being friends. I wasn’t.

He reached for another one. He didn’t know how long he was supposed to go before taking another, but he didn’t like to remember. Not like that. He liked the flow, the rush, the emptiness and light feeling in his chest. Not being able to breathe and feeling as if it had been too much. He became comfortable with the thought of not waking up. He knew he had enough just for that. It cost him a lot, but he had enough just for that. His finger danced around the pill like a bird courting a mate. Jumping and dancing, displaying and spinning, chirping songs of praise and promise. They were courting. Would he take her in? Would he be able to grasp her? His finger kept circling around. He didn’t know if he wanted to pick it up.

This will probably do me. Let’s see how far it’ll take me. I have nothing to lose and nothing ahead. I can do it again. I can do it. Let me see what’s behind the door.

He pinched it between his index and thumb then picked it up and inspected it. The room was spinning so it was hard to look at something so small. He put it in his mouth and took a swig of water and closed his eyes. His head dropped and his hands rested on his thighs as his body slowly slumped forward. He felt his weight pulling him away from his chair. There was a thud and he was on the floor. He turned around and looked intently at his ceiling.

He watched it dance.

Random Nonsense

I’d wanted to hang out with her for a long time now and when I was there, I was dead quiet. I couldn’t help it. She was as lovely as I expected and maybe even more. She wasn’t wearing anything fancy; it was a stay at home kind of thing after all. Just a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, but the way she pursed her lips when she looked through the book I bought her had an effect on me. Her hair was a shade of brown that I couldn’t take my eyes off of. She had changed it once before and it was a different color when I first met her. Each had been lovely to me, but there was something about the way her hair fell to her shoulders that got to me. She was something else.

“So what do you think?” I kept my eyes on her hair and hope it looked like I was making eye contact.

She gave me a weird look, “So, the zombie virus is an STD and it makes them want to bite and fuck?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Why? Is that weird?”

She shifted in her seat and stretched her legs out towards me, touching her feet to my thigh. I took her in from her feet to up; slowly tracing my eyes up her body. She had to have noticed that. I know she did and maybe I wanted her to. It’s been something that’s been building up and I suppose there was no harm and showing her where my head was at.

She continued, “Well, it’s not really that it’s weird. It’s different. When I think of zombies they’re always decaying and grey, you know? I don’t really know if I want to fuck one.”

“If I was a zombie like in that book, would you fuck me?”

She giggled softly, “I’d consider it, but I’m not much of a necrophilia freak, you know. The way you are now is just fine with me.”

“So what about now?”

She slowly got to her knees on the couch and shuffled her way towards me. I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. I was nervous now. I was afraid I had said something too far and I was about to face some kind of reprisal. That’s when I felt her hands on her shoulder and I could feel her face close to my ear. She took a nibble and I shuddered. My entire body reacted to her one small gesture.

She took one of her hands and ran it down my arm, “That would be just fine with me, babe.”

“You…know…I-I’ve never done it with, um, with, well I just..” I was stuttering, “I don’t really want to get anything wrong, and, well, oh, I’m talking too much, sorry, it’s just how I-“

She grabbed my chin and jerked it towards her. It was deep. Passionate. Oh, and I’ve never felt so electric. She knew how to kiss. No guy I’ve kissed ever had me like that.

“Don’t worry. I know I’m your first woman. You’ll be fine, love. It’ll be a lovely time.”

Walking With Virgil: Virgil Dies Edition

[This is the version that I entered for a Halloween writing contest at my college. I got 2nd place! That means I get this sweet gift card to Barnes and Noble and I also get automatically published in their literary magazine "Portfolio." I'm pretty stoked so I'm saving this here for posterity.]

If you’re reading this then two things must be true. One is that you’ve made it pretty far and that’s good. The second is that I’m dead. If “I” attacked you before you found this, let me apologize for that. If you haven’t seen me yet, put this journal down for a second, grab your weapon, and sweep the house. This will be here when you get back.

My name’s Virgil. Like you, I was on my way to a green zone, but unlike you, I didn’t quite make it. I was ambushed in this house by a woman. She was still in her bathrobe and I didn’t sweep the house enough to find her. That was my fault. I got her, but she got me, too. I’ve been bit. I’m pretty lucid right now, though. I think writing in this is keeping me lucid. So, while I still have my faculties, let me tell you a story.

When accounts of the “living dead” started hitting the wires, people were, for good reason, quite skeptical and I’m sure so were you. It’s not something you just up and believe. There’s no such thing as Santa, there’s no such thing as the Tooth Fairy, and there’s no such things as Zombies. Turns out, one of those three came into reality and unfortunately it’s not the lady that gives money for loose molars. What we got were zombies; full on moaning, gnashing, snarling zombies and, unfortunately, not the shuffling kind. Let me tell you something, though, they’re not truly dead. The only thing dead about the infected is their humanity. The virus doesn’t kill you, it puts you in a coma and when you come to, well, you’re like a dog with a really bad case of rabies. Nothing but pure aggression and a hunger that can destroy a Vegas buffet in the blink of an eye. Everything goes back to baser instincts and the “human” turns into their truer self, pure animal. Let me make this clear, just because they’re not really “zombies” in the classical sense, doesn’t mean there’s humanity left in them. There’s nothing behind those glossed over eyes anymore. Do what you have to do.

You can break bones and they slow down, you can shoot the gut and they can die. I was thankful for that. I’m a horrible shot. I can’t hit the head of my walker if my life depended on it and, well, in this situation it does. I think you’ve noticed that the infected exhibit the same level of fitness they did before succumbing to the virus, albeit with a little boost from suddenly over sized adrenal glands. A little bit faster, a little bit stronger, and feeling no pain. Means that you have to be real decisive about what you hit so that they go down. They won’t go down because something hurts; make sure you make them go down because something of theirs doesn’t work anymore. Preferably their brain, but legs work just as well in a pinch. I’ve noticed something good. They’re only fast if they’re fresh. Their bodies still need fuel and since they don’t eat, well, they starve to death. The ones that have been infected for longer won’t have enough to run after you. That’s comforting, right?

Comforting.

I’ve seen some terrible things on my way here and I hope you were spared them. People get desperate in times like these. Before I got to this house, I didn’t have much on me. I made due, but I was running low. I was forced to make a stop and find some supplies. I went into what I thought was an empty house. There was a kid in there. Not too young, but not that old either. Could have been a middle school kid for all I knew. I didn’t know what to do. I was stupid. I called out to him and he turned to me and I saw those glassed over eyes. My heart sank. I pointed my gun at him, but my hands were shaking, my God, they wouldn’t stop shaking. He was so young. He looked at me for a while and tilted his head like he was trying to recognize me. I thought that maybe he was still human somewhere so I tried talking to him. He just looked at me and his mouth opened up wide like when an animal is about to take a big bite out of their prey. I was the prey. I took a second longer than I should have to slip my finger over the trigger. I hesitated. He came at me like a hurricane and I was on the floor. It was a struggle and I thought I was gone, but I managed to throw him off me. He was a kid, after all. And then…..well, you can guess what happened.

I can feel my body heating up and I’m sweating. My hands are shaking again. I’m starting to get sick, I know it. I want to close my eyes, but I have to finish. You have to keep going. Don’t stay here. Keep going and keep surviving. Never hesitate and watch over your own. I don’t know who you are, but I really hope the best for you. I hope you make it all the way. Make it for me, okay? You can do it. I know you can. You have to make it. You ha-

[I want to thank my best friend Robin and my lovely girlfriend Janessa for supporting me and giving me the extra nudge to try and get my writing out there. Baby steps, guys! I'm taking them!]

Sparring

[This is from a free write so don’t expect good grammar, folks.]

Flash and burn. My skin is tingling and I can feel the sting linger. Oh, but I love it. I move and she moves with me. There’s a rhythm to her aggression. Oh, and I love it. She strikes for me and I let it happen. I can feel the force come at me. It stings and I know it’ll bruise. It’s her gift to me. I’ll keep it for a while. Then it cuts. Cuts to black and we’re in her room. Equipment is thrown around and nothing is sacred. Oh, and there are bruises. Forming from the strikes and forming a new. It’s rough. A little rough and we smile about it. I bite her lip and she goes for mine. Too hard. I bleed a little. She licks my lips and I smile at her. Push. Slams against the wall and I pick her leg up. Sticks on the ground. Battered and bruised. Used and weathered. Not us. Still fresh. Tired as hell and still fresh. Oh, and I love it. And it’s a new game now. I pin her to the ground and she wraps her legs around me. I have reach, but she has flexibility. We have our speed and our aggression. Still fresh. My bruises are showing and so are hers. We’ll make new ones tonight.

Dreams

I had a dream about her again. It was different this time. Usually, these dreams are pleasant vignettes of moments past. Flashes of white that pan into an open field and focus under a tree. Panning camera angles down a beach to a pier to see two lovers standing next to each other holding hands, kissing softly, and affirming their affection. Not last night. Last night was different.

There was heat. I began to sweat. There was a rhythm. I began to move. In between the motions I would bite at her collar bone and she would call to me. No soft whispers and sweet nothings. Calling to me like an animal. Then I would feel a flash of pain on my back. Nails dug in and dragging I could feel it burning and the pain surging. It kept me going. It kept my pace and then it made me hungry. Hungry for her skin and her breath. Hungry for the way she arched her back when her buttons were pushed. Hungry for those eyes that look down at me when she felt that it was her turn to have her way. I picked her up. Pinned her against the wall. There was a thud and she smiles at me. “Go” she would mouth and that’s what I would do. Motion by motion, bite by bite, we were tangled in a mess and I loved it. I could feel my muscles aching and my shoulders straining to hold her up. They weren’t tired, she was just difficult to contain. She was an avalanche, she was an eruption, and I tried to hold it all in my arms as I moved to that primal beat we heard in our heads. I’ve never wanted her so much in my life. I’ve never been so alive. Nothing was going through my mind. Absolutely nothing. All I could see was what was in front of me. All I could feel was her body against mine. Her heat radiating to my skin and her sweat mixing with mine as it rolled down her belly. Oh, what clear conviction; what sheer and utter dedication to nothing but the moment.

Then there was nothing. Then there was a cold realization and my feet were out of my blanket. I opened my eyes and sat up to a room different from what I saw. Looked up to an unfamiliar ceiling. I rubbed my eyes and stayed awake. I dreamt about her again tonight, but the sum of these dreams amount to nothing when compared to a few moments in my waking world with her and I looked forward to them again.

Walking With Virgil: In the Beginning

Moving Out

When accounts of the “living dead” started hitting the wires, people were, for good reason, quite skeptical. It’s not something you just up and believe. There’s no such thing as Santa, there’s no such thing as the Tooth Fairy, and there’s no such things as Zombies. Turns out, one of those three came into reality and unfortunately it’s not the lady that gives money for loose molars. What we got were zombies; full on moaning, gnashing, snarling zombies and, unfortunately, not the shuffling kind. We like calling them the “living dead,” but they’re not truly dead. The only thing dead about the infected is their humanity. The virus doesn’t kill you, it puts you in a coma and when you come to, well, you’re like a dog with a really bad case of rabies. Nothing but pure aggression and a hunger that can destroy a Vegas buffet in the blink of an eye. Everything goes back to baser instincts and the “human” turns into their truer self, pure animal.

Can’t say I’m not glad that they’re not really undead. That would just be creepy. I don’t want a head snapping at me after I cut it off. Physiologically speaking, everyone is still “human.” You can break bones and they slow down, you can shoot the gut and they can die. I’m thankful for that. I’m a horrible shot. I wouldn’t be able to hit the head if my life depended on it and, well, in this situation it does. The infected exhibit the same level of fitness they did before succumbing to the virus, albeit with a little boost from suddenly over sized adrenal glands. A little bit faster, a little bit stronger, and feeling no pain. Makes for a hell of a fight. Also means that you have to have massive cardio to make it out there. You’ll get tired before they do, I guarantee it. The fatties not so much, but Lord help you if you catch a hoard with some endurance athletes or sprinters.

Basically, we’re on our own now. Things are getting pretty chaotic and the government is just bunkered down being a bunch of pussies. The military? Well, they’re spread too thin to get to everyone. Borders have to be secured at the same time as trying to keep things clean on the inside. I don’t blame them for skipping over “hot zones” like my little hamlet. I’ll be honest with you, I hate my town. I’ve hated it for years and I’ve always wanted to move, but you get lulled into complacency. You always complain about your home life, but when you stop and think about how much money it will cost to move out on your own, you just sit and say, “Well, someday.” It literally had to take the end of the world to convince me to move. I’m still in my parent’s house, but not for long. Man cannot live on canned vienna sausages alone.

Mostly everyone is infected. Sometimes the wires buzz with a few pockets of people who are bunkered down like me. Once I get everything ready, I’m kicking my doors down and partying my way downtown, grab my friends who are still alive, and head for a green zone. Not the safest plan, but it’s better than sitting in a town that the rest of the world turned its back on, right? Oh, right, my name’s Virgil and I’m about to walk into hell.