Not a blog at all, but a vignette I wrote... if zombies have vignettes
Drip...drip...
In raiments of torn flesh, weary feet plodded along rough stone wetly, a parade of red footprints left behind. If only it hurt, even a little, to have one's meat hanging by threads from glaring bones to flail with macabre movement in the staccato footsteps.
Slap...slap...
A nauseating miasmic cloud preceded the guiding feet, a stench unknown wafting along in his wake with the receding echoes of drip...drip...slap...slap.
Direction was meaningless, if only to be blamed on sightless orbs of white that dangled like small fruit from the ruin of a face. A throat once made for singing could sing no more, only moan a eternal dirge at the nothingness that defined existence.
Rrrgghh...Rrrgghh...
A light blossomed ahead, a wondering type of radiance that beckoned and gave purpose to the lost and fed a direction to the hunger for motivation. The slap slap increased in tempo and if a heart still beat it would grow excited within its rusted cage. Instead it could only envy the beat of the light, the beat driving it on and mocking with its pulse and meaning.
Bum bum...bum...bum...
It mocks! Oh how it cajoles with its increasing music, striking like hammer blows on ears long chewed away to strips by rodents and the mean worms of the earth. The keening wail blew all pretense and drowned out the blessed beating of life's drum, but for adrenal dump into a red river that made it beat ever louder...Louder!
Bumbumbum...bumbumbum...bumbumbum...bumbumbum...
Slapdripslap...slapslapdrip...dripslapslap...slaps lapslap
RRRrrrrrrrgggghhhh!!!!
The light to be quenched! The beat to be silenced! The hunger to allay! The still warm flesh to feed the unlife with life! Hands like claws grasped at soft skin, teeth like nails punctured the white satin and drowned in the red river. NO! The beating slows! The cursed beating that drives the purpse home dies in our mouth! The pulses quicken and red river flows, until it ends and useless unlife flops to the cold ground to quiver. Purpose is gone again, so in raiments of torn flesh and amidst the dripping...the feet slap... slap... slap... again.
Drip...drip...
In raiments of torn flesh, weary feet plodded along rough stone wetly, a parade of red footprints left behind. If only it hurt, even a little, to have one's meat hanging by threads from glaring bones to flail with macabre movement in the staccato footsteps.
Slap...slap...
A nauseating miasmic cloud preceded the guiding feet, a stench unknown wafting along in his wake with the receding echoes of drip...drip...slap...slap.
Direction was meaningless, if only to be blamed on sightless orbs of white that dangled like small fruit from the ruin of a face. A throat once made for singing could sing no more, only moan a eternal dirge at the nothingness that defined existence.
Rrrgghh...Rrrgghh...
A light blossomed ahead, a wondering type of radiance that beckoned and gave purpose to the lost and fed a direction to the hunger for motivation. The slap slap increased in tempo and if a heart still beat it would grow excited within its rusted cage. Instead it could only envy the beat of the light, the beat driving it on and mocking with its pulse and meaning.
Bum bum...bum...bum...
It mocks! Oh how it cajoles with its increasing music, striking like hammer blows on ears long chewed away to strips by rodents and the mean worms of the earth. The keening wail blew all pretense and drowned out the blessed beating of life's drum, but for adrenal dump into a red river that made it beat ever louder...Louder!
Bumbumbum...bumbumbum...bumbumbum...bumbumbum...
Slapdripslap...slapslapdrip...dripslapslap...slaps lapslap
RRRrrrrrrrgggghhhh!!!!
The light to be quenched! The beat to be silenced! The hunger to allay! The still warm flesh to feed the unlife with life! Hands like claws grasped at soft skin, teeth like nails punctured the white satin and drowned in the red river. NO! The beating slows! The cursed beating that drives the purpse home dies in our mouth! The pulses quicken and red river flows, until it ends and useless unlife flops to the cold ground to quiver. Purpose is gone again, so in raiments of torn flesh and amidst the dripping...the feet slap... slap... slap... again.
diaz:
Thank you for the lovely comment on my set! <3