Soooooo, I just realized my friend @snook
Had challenged me to throw some zombies in to one of my five minute free writes. Somehow I missed that little prompt, but, today I noticed it.
Challenge accepted Snook!
Admittedly I didn't have outright zombie combat or anything, but I managed to weave them in. The prompt by @mariannewest for today's Five minute free write was Church so I thought it would be a good time to mix them together. Because zombies and church...right? Well, it worked for me.
Written on The most dangerous writing app I admit to going back and switching some words around, correcting spelling, and fixing a couple tenses. I love the 5 minute intensity, the force driving you to get the story out, hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it :)
Without further ado...
He pulled back on the slide of the gun
Revealing a copper toned round. The harsh click-clack echoed in the cramped chamber. He noted the status and shoved the pistol into the back of his pants. Swinging a salvaged police shotgun from his shoulder he cradled the grimey thing gently in his arms.
What was going to make it's way through the door and down the stairs? What the hell was happening? he thought to himself. This shit only happens in the movies. And, why did he have to run into this place of all places?
The walls were stacked with bones
Like grim ornaments they were piled, fasted, glued together, everywhere. Death as decoration. A chill went down his spin.
At least these aren't like those. Alive.
A dull knock at the door down the hall.
The somber darkness lit by stray candles, dust in the air. Only the occasional twinkle here and there to give hope.
Seriously, why did he run into here? On vacation with his family, the start of this knightmare, everything changed in that moment. A stumbling man, a crowd of people. Screams, terror, everyone running.
Another dull thump, followed by another, and another.
A stacatto drum beat began. He knew the doors wouldn't hold long. Ironic, he thought, to die in a church like this. A church of bones. Behind him, a weary skeleton held together by dislike for the living, reached for his shoulder.
There are so many times I wish I had more time to write.
Because, what the heck was about to happen? Were the masses of bones around him going to turn into a giant monster for him to battle? Were the mysterious thumps going to turn into masses of zombies hungry for his living flesh? Or was it all a giant misunderstanding?
Meh, who knows. On to the next piece of writing :)
Thanks for dropping by and reading. I'd love to hear what you thought. Feel free to link to your free write and I'll try and stop by for a read :)
Michael
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