Essay about Creative Writing: Spooky Isles

Essay about Creative Writing: Spooky Isles

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It's so hot outside that even in this dark rainy morning you find it hard to breathe: it tires you up after a while. Dehydration follows and no matter how much water you drink, it just won't satiate you. It has been 6 days now. Six non stopping days of falling limbs and legs with some blood in the middle. The seventh day just dawned.
It's 6am and here I am, in my balcony with my rifle as my loyal friend to make me some company. The zombies have been persistent since the plague struck for the first time. I remember it so well, how could I forget? I had the sexiest girl you could ever imagine in my bed, when, all of a sudden the alarm went off. She went outside to see if she could find what was wrong, when I heard a cry and everything changed. She returned with a reddish wound in her leg. Saying that everything was fine, that it was just a wound, it will heal she said, but it never did and she started to change, to mutate: by the end of the second day; she became violent, with a lustful taste for blood. 'Dear?' I said. She looked at me, with vivid eyes, while I pointed to the door. She followed me outside; I turned her around, made her close her eyes with the pretence of surprising her and then chained her to the porch, chained her like a dog. She turned around aggressively, fire was burning wildly in her eyes and cursed me with all the b's, f's and m words you can think of and maybe some you didn't even knew they existed. I witnessed the transformation of a ten into a tonbie. I made a sign and wrote the words: “Hungry? Have a bite!” she could bite anyone she wanted, but, not me. Bitch! I went upstairs and as I entered the living room, the words “The dead invaded London. Panic everywhere.” came from the TV. “So it's serio...

... middle of paper ...

... tearing eyes. I ignore her despite her attempt to convince me to let her in. 'Please!' she says. I pull the right sleeve, look at watch
'11pm.' I say
'It's 11:50pm...' I say. 'The time's almost up.'
'Almost up for what?'
The wind howls in agreement. Jane looks confused and I couldn't care less.
'For God to show up.'
'Do you believe in God?'
'I do, and will keep believing, at least, for the next 10 minutes.' I gaze to the dark sky ' After that... I'll start believing, exclusively, in myself.'
'Well...' I sigh ' If God created the world in seven days and then rested... Why can't He cure this world and then rest?'
'Maybe there's no God.'
Midnight. It's still possible to hear zombies chanting, the winds still howls noisily; tonbie's still a zombie, I am still standing at the open door, Jane is still sitting in the stairs. Nothing as changed.

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