It's A Zombie World After All

    The year was 2050, and the world was returning to a more civilized state. Christmas was approaching fast, there was frost in the air, Christmas lights covered every available surface. December 12, 2012 would mark the anniversary of the Zombie Apocalypse.  For thirty-eight years, carnage reigned supreme.  Humans tried hard to fight of the zombie hoards, in return zombies feasted on human flesh. You could be eating lunch with your friend one day, and the next day he would be trying to eat you, it was tuff business. Governments all around the world, hired scientist to attempt to try and find a cure for the mounting epidemic.

    Finally, there was partial success. Doctors in Sweden were able to cultivate a vaccine that stopped decomposition in its tracks, returning brain function to the afflicted individual. There was one problem; they could not curtail the craving for human flesh. Five years later, scientist in China found a way to mass produce body parts. Soon grocery store shelves were stocked with human limbs. It was not uncommon to pass by someone eating a human leg. Slowly, life began to improve.

    My name is Phoenix Ayers; I am a reporter for the Daily Dread. I relay the stories of the day, what it is like to live as a New Yorker in a  post zombie apocalyptic world. Let me tell you, it’s not all it is cracked up to be, it can be quite tuff. The government has gotten quite good at sweeping zombie outbreaks under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind. Fortunately for me, I have friends in high places.

   A great friend of mine is a bounty hunter for ZEF (Zombie Elimination Force). He has been kind enough to pass on files, that the rest of the public, are not meant to see. Just before my friend, placed the files in my outstretched hand, he grinned, “You will want to see this.” I made a mad grab for the files, my interest was piqued “Just one second,” he said wiping any trace of humor from his face, “You did not get these from me, do you understand? This cannot come back on me. After you are done reading these, he continued shaking the files in my face, “ They must be destroyed.” That is precisely what I was doing a week ago, going over files not meant for my eyes, before shit hit the fan. Because the information I was reading was classified, I didn’t want to get caught.

   In a small nondescript coffee joint, off the main drag, I sat in a red leather booth. A gray sheet of rain separated me from the rest of New York, perfect. As I thumbed through the files, several complaints, had gotten mixed in, it was a lot of information to sort through.

   A zombie named Frank, was so very upset, that he filed a report. Apparently his best friend Steve (also a zombie) made a snack out of Frank’s hand. Frank had repeatedly insisted he told Steve to stop eating his hand. Steve in return, insisted that he was pretty sure that was the same hand, that he bought at the grocery store, that morning. An all-out brawl had ensued. During the fight, both Franks hand and liver went missing. Part of Steve’s lower intestine had been devoured by Frank. ZEF had been called in, to shut it down and hush it up.

I looked up, as my waitress hobbled over. She was an older lady, her ankle was mangled badly, the wounds looked quite recent. “What happened to your foot?” I asked leaning out of my booth for a better look. “You’ll never believe it!” She exclaimed throwing her hands in the air. “I come into work right, to open for the morning shift. It’s dark out, and I am trying to unlock the door, and this bum comes out of nowhere. I think he wants my purse right? No he starts chewing on my foot. So then I says to him, “’Look what you did you bastard, you better scat before I call ZEF! I’ll have to go have it looked at after I get done with my shift, more than likely they will have to vaccinate me again.’”

“What a shame,” I said shaking my head. “So what will it be?” the waitress asked, tapping her pencil against her tablet. “I’ll have an order of french fingers with syrup, a blood jelly donut, and a double whipped eye java,” I reciting my favorite breakfast off the top of my head. “You got it,” she said, and limped away.

I returned my attention back to my work. As I flipped to the next page, there was something interesting, highlighted in red, ‘Chinese may be flooding the market with more than genetically engineered body parts.’

Catacombe dei Cappuccini

     A large yellow moon hung, suspended over a dark murky Mediterranean Sea. The city of Palermo lay drowsy beneath the mountains, its inhabitants having retired many hours ago. A strong gust blew dry leaves down a cobbled alleyway.  Tom cats squalled and brawled, a dog mournfully howled into the night, then all was quiet again, except for a small monastery. The Capuchin Catacombs started to wake up and come alive. Each year, on Halloween, the spell death cast over each still form is lifted, when the veil between life and death does not exist.

    Capuchin monks slowly got out of their warm beds, pulling on coarse cloaks, for midnight prayers, all was as it should be above the catacombs, below was a different story. A mummified cardinal slowly stretched, yawning, shaking off the rigors of death, and then hopped down from his perch on the wall. He snapped his jaw into place, then reached up and grabbed a torch that hung on the wall. The Cardinal made his rounds of the catacombs, as he did so, more corpses began to spring to life. One night in the land of the living, they were going to make the most of it!

   The lawyers began to vigorously argue politics, hands waving and flying in the air. It didn’t matter that they had been dead for hundreds of years, they argued the politics of their day. A skeletal maiden passed below, and each of the lawyers in turn stopped what they were talking about, took of their hats and bowed, murmuring “Bella,” as she passed. When she had gone, they went back to their heated discussion.

   Moonlight shone through the bars covering the monastery windows. Mummies climbed off the wall joining the procession, which had begun behind the Cardinal. Long dead musicians joined the crowd, a trumpet sounded, the deceased swayed and danced to the music. The procession passed a group of corpses sitting around a table, playing cards and smoking cigars.

    In a small alcove an atrophied priest performed a long awaited wedding ceremony. The bride stood before the priest, in a moth eaten lace dress, a groom by her side dressed in a black frayed suit and bow tie, his faded hair slicked and parted down the middle of his skull. Death could not still the love that thrummed through their veins, and beat through their hearts. The groom tried to place a ring on the bride’s finger, since that finger was missing, he placed it on her pinky instead. Then they leaned in for a passionate kiss, which would last for an eternity on their lips.

    Skeletal children ran back and forth, hooting with laughter and joy, it was hard not to play for one whole year. A harassed looking husband cowered against the wall, as his angry wife berated him, an argument that transcended death. All this went on below in the catacombs, as the monks prayed for the everlasting souls of the deceased below, on All Saints’ Day. When the rays of sunshine replaced the moon, the corpses slowly climbed back into their places, as death held them in its cold embrace for another year.

The Three Fates

      Adam of Bremen had traveled many miles, and was faint with thirst and hunger. His mouth was parched; he despaired that he should find any water soon. As he threw his plea up into the heavens, fate smiled down upon him, in the distance was a well. Adam hurried forth; landing on his knees, and drank from the well. As he scooped water desperately into his mouth, he was horrified to see at the bottom of the well, a great eye gazing up towards him. It was lidless never blinking at it watched; Adam could see the whole galaxy suspended in the milky white. This was Mimir’s Well, his father had warned him to never go near it, never to drink from it.

    “What could it hurt?” he thought to himself. Adam hurriedly scooped more water into his mouth to quench his thirst. Then he filled his canteen, to make sure he had enough water to finish his journey.  When Adam had gotten his fill, he continued on his way. Soon he came upon the Temple of Uppsala, and decided to rest. As he entered into the temple, he felt faint, stumbling forward, he passed out cold, lifeless.

     There was a bright flash before Adam’s eyes. He felt disoriented. What had happened? He stood shakily to his feet. Before him was a road like a beam of sunshine, it traveled for miles. On either side of the road was blackness, dotted with stars. Lighting flashed in the darkness; in the distance dark mountains were silhouetted. The air crackled with electricity. Adam followed the road, careful to stay away from the edge; he did not want to fall into the dark abyss below.

     At the end of the road stood three tall women on the cusp of a cliff. These were the Norn that his father had told him about as a child. They were draped in long silver cloaks. To the left stood Edda, she saw into the past, day’s bygone. In the middle stood Sigurd, she had the gift to look into the present and the immediate future. On the right stood Dvalin, she saw into the very distant future.

     “How did I get here?” Adam thought to himself confused. Reading his mind, Edda replied “You are here human, because you drank from the well of Mirmir, now you must hear what fate has in store for you. She proceeded to reach into the dark abyss, and pulled out three bright stars. In each star Adam could see scenes of his life being played out. Edda handed a star to each of her sisters.

     Edda suspended a star in front of her. Inside the stars luminous glow Adam saw a scene from the past. He was on the battlefield, at war. Adam has just killed for the first time in his life. “You have known violence,” Edda said, glancing up at Adam with piercing blue eyes “Taking another man’s life has left a mark on your soul, blood taints your hands, violence begets violence and blood begets blood,” she finished.

     In the star that was suspended before Sigurd, Adam saw his wife in the arms of another man, and then he saw a child. “Your wife has been unfaithful to you; she carries another man’s child,” Sigurd said simply, without feeling.

               
     Adam had the distinct feeling that Dvalin was watching him. She had no eyes in her head, only dark holes where they should be, and yet Adam felt her piercing glance strong as ever. The star suspended before her showed Adam as an old man. Alone, no family and no one to care for him in his old age. Children ran past, and threw stones at him as he lay hunched against a wall, freezing in a threadbare cloak. “You have turned away everyone you have ever loved, or anyone who was ever foolish enough to love you. You will die alone, and bitter,” said Dvalin watching Adam’s face closely.

Taking a deep breath, Adam asked “These are the things that will definitely come to pass in my life? I cannot change them?”

     “You cannot change the past,” Edda replied “Nor can you change the present, you have control of the future. If you do not change, the things Dvalin showed you will come to pass. Learn your lesson well human,” Edda said. Then she reached out and tapped Adam on the forehead, he felt a blinding searing pain. He stumbled backwards into the abyss.

      Adam awoke to someone shaking his shoulder. He was back in the Temple of Uppsala. He quickly got to his feet, shoving his way through the crowd that had gathered around him. Adam had to get home quickly; he knew what he had to do. Traveling at a quick pace, he made it home before nightfall. Adam searched for his wife, finally he found her, in bed with another man. In a rage Adam slaughtered her lover. He then turned and killed his wife.

     As Adam lay on the ground next to his dead wife’s body, mournful he stroked her lifeless face. Blood smeared her pale cheek. Why had the fates not warned him? In a large voice that emanated around the room, Edda said “Violence begets violence, and blood begets blood.”

London Bridge Troll

    Since 1831, the two immovable stone towers of London Bridge, have ascended out of the Thames, and pierced the London skyline. A beautiful place to take a stroll during the day. Cars, trucks and buses, all moving with the ebb and flow of traffic. Tourist hurry about taking pictures. Naïve traveler beware, London Bridge holds more secrets than any could imagine. Once nightfall descends, the darker part of London comes out to play.

    The latest structure is just one in a long succession, which have stood on that very spot, since the Romans first conquered Britain. Many men and women have crossed, bringing with them their hopes, dreams, and vile, unsavory thoughts. Evil thoughts cannot be destroyed. For once they have taken root; they become a life of their own; living breathing creatures. This is what the darkness of the night is made of.

    A most monstrous creature has made the murky underside of London Bridge its home. Feeding off the very essence of human nature, as unwary pedestrians tread above. Only a person pure of heart and a clear conscience can pass at night without encountering The London Bridge Troll.

    Oh, you have never heard of the London Bridge Troll? Well then, count yourself amongst one of the lucky few, who have not encountered this creature from the depths of the Thames. For the many that have had the displeasure of seeing this creature, it is an experience they hope never to repeat. On nights when the moon is full, the creature has been spotted climbing the towers of London Bridge.

    It is a common occurrence, when someone has had too much drink, to fall of the side of the bridge into the dark watery depths below, or is it? Eyewitnesses say they have seen the beast, grab hold of unsuspecting victims ankles, and drag them below, to feed on. Officials will not make a public statement on the matter, however it has been leaked to the public, that the bones of the missing men, and women, have been found, jammed into the cracks of the bridge.  

   Others will tell you, that as they leaned over the side of the bridge, to have a look at the river below, only to see two large yellow eyes maliciously gazing back up at them. A horrible stench accompanies this creature. One could be feeling fine, however as the stench comes down wind, they can feel very sick to their stomachs.

    Travelers, beware,as night falls on London Bridge, you could be the next unsuspecting victim. You may never make it to the other side of the bridge, alive.