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misstree
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there was a zombie. it got you. i don't remember most of the struggle, but i remember that it had taken the meat from your face and throat, and i tried to strangle it, as if zombies needed to breathe. i remember the sickness getting you, you becoming nothuman. i reached for something, anything, because You were gone, and my hand found the exacto knife and i sliced your jugulars but zombies don't die that way, so i sliced through your spinal cord, and i held you close while you passed, and there was just a fleeting recognition, and i told you that i had always loved you.
there were zombies. i went to try to find help, but no one believed me, until i found my mother. she treated it like no big deal. told me there was a bounty hunter i could call. i was exasperated and relieved; if there was someone i could call, then the threat was acknowledged by the rest of the world in some small way, but there was at least one zombie on the loose and no one was even alert much less prepared to defend themselves.
i have to stop dreaming strange things and then being weirded out by them.
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050528
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