by MAD of Mary Ann DeBorde Writes (and Reads!)
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Folks always thought it'd be worse in the city.
But here, in the sticks, the farmbelt of America ... it's worse because we're trapped.
We don't have no reinforcements. We're trapped. STUCK.
Did you get that??? stuck as in we can't move.
I'm sending this from Mike's iphone. Just got a few bars left.
Oh, did I mention we're stuck?
There are seven of us squeezed into the crawlspace beneath the old farmhouse.
There's no room to move, to turn around. It's pitch dark and there's creepy crawly things sliding
all over my skin, trying to get in my hair. My mouth.
Feels like we're already in a coffin.
Which I guess is about right 'cept no one wants to admit it.
Outside there's a growing horde of the dead things trying to get at us.
The moaning and grinding has been going on since nightfall.
Did you know the zombies grind and gnash their teeth nonstop?
Sounds like bricks shattering.
For now, they can't get to us but we can't get out.
We're as good as dead here.
You can hear more of them rustling towards the farm from out in the fields.
Phone's beeping. 'Bout outta juice.
Please. Send.......
~end
Guest post created for September Zombies event by MAD of Mary Ann DeBorde Writes (and Reads!)
© 2011. All rights reserved.
by MAD of Mary Ann DeBorde Writes (and Reads!)
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NOW, head over to Mary Ann DeBorde Writes (and Reads!) for a zombie treat...
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