You wipe the sweat off your head with your arm. The sun is bright, blindingly so. You close the door behind you. It feels so much better out here, on the roof, than inside your stuffy apartment.
You stand still, reveling in the cool air. Then you see her, the woman next door-your neighbor. She’s standing on the edge of the roof looking down twenty stories of cold steel. One strong gust of wind and… No! You push the thought from your mind. You feel the need to help, but you hesitate. You tell yourself to stop thinking about it, take action.
You walk over, heart in throat, taking your time, but not too much of it. Your heart’s beating fast, it’s hard to breath. You lick your dry cracked lips, ready to speak. The words have to be right, perfectly shaped in every way.
“Wait!” you say gentle yet demanding. Startled, she turns her face towards you. She’s beautiful, more dazzling than the sun. You never knew this till now. She was always on the move out and about. You only caught fleeting glimpses of her slim figure, her liquid shadow.
Her face is red from all the tears and there’s hardness deep in her eyes. You ask “Why?” and she answers “Why not?” She sits down on the ledge and pats the empty space next to her.
You take your time and you sit on the cool stone surface. For a while the both of you just sit there and gaze into the empty sky. The woman next to you wipes a rogue tear from her smooth cheek. She looks at you with her wide, questioning eyes.
You tell her “It’s okay, everything’s going to be alright.” She tells you “No, no it’s not going to be alright.” In your mind you know it’s true but you don’t tell her that. The words spill from her mouth. She speaks so fast that you have a hard time catching everything. You understand, you understand the only true way, by experience.
She’s alone. There’s no one in her life, no one at all. You grab her trembling hand in yours. “You’re not alone, not now.” She looks at you and smiles.
She needs someone to come with her; she asks you if you will come with her. Even now, she’s still fears being alone. Then she points down. You look, your mum and dad are down there - skin flaking - even Uncle Bob who can barely stand, wobbles on his decaying legs. There are others, some you recognize others you don’t. They’re all waving. Waiting.
The woman next to you squeezes your hand tightly. You both stand up, and you take your final breath. You jump hand-in-hand, into the sea of writhing bodies.
___
© 2008 Grant Wamack
Grant Wamack has been published in Nemonymous 8, Polluto #2, and 365 Tomorrows. He lives and dies daily as a student at Northern Illinois University. You can hear him talk about nothing at http://grantwamack.blogspot.com/. If you haven’t had enough nothingness you might as well visit him at http://www.myspace.com/gsmooth101.
Tags: death, Grant Wamack, living dead, suicide, zombies
January 11th, 2009 at 3:40 am
Wow, that was good. I was scared for the poor guy as soon as he sat down, though…. very well written.
January 11th, 2009 at 5:30 am
Yeah, I don’t normally like zombie flash, because I find it repetitive and predictable, but you did a good job on that one, I enjoyed it.
January 11th, 2009 at 9:23 am
I don’t know which is scarier, the zombies waiting on the ground or the thought of trying to write a story in second person. Good job.
January 11th, 2009 at 11:41 am
I really liked that you set the tone, and establish your own voice right off the bat.
The writing style reminded me of Chuck Palanhuik. Great stuff!
January 11th, 2009 at 4:40 pm
Thanks for the comments.I appreciate it.
January 12th, 2009 at 6:28 pm
Wonderful story - I loved it!