Nothing flowed right in the dim lighting.  His vision twisted and the view expanded before him, fuzzy and strange.  He sat against the wall, his legs spread out in an awkward fashion.  "How long have I been here?  Where am I?"  Dark liquid dripped from his head and splattered on the floor beside him.  He moved his hand to touch his cheek.  It felt stiff, like hard ice.  Slick goop coated his fingers when he pulled them away.   “What’s wrong with me?”

He struggled to stand, but his body dragged him down.  His limbs weighed a ton.  Slowly he rose while clinging to the wall for support.  His feet shuffled as he willed them to walk, one step at a time, forward ever forward.  “What’s the deal with my freaking feet?”   He looked down.  His toes were black and caked with blood.  “Oh crap, that can’t be good.”  

He lifted his head.  Something popped in his neck.  His body jerked and leaned forward to the left.  His left arm dangled and bumped against his thigh. “Why in hell can’t I move?”  After many minutes, he dragged himself to the edge of the corridor.  

A red light flashed off and on overhead.  "Is that the fire alarm?  Where's the siren then?"  Shadows shifted as the light blinked.

He tested his vision by closing his right eye.   Nothing happened, no change.  He closed his left eye.  His world went black.  “Ok, now that's interesting...”

He lifted his hand to pat the right side of his head.  There was an empty hole where his eye should be.  “When did this happen?  How did this happen?”  He moved his hand upward .  Another hole, deep and large, revealed itself.  “Damn, is this the top of my head?  What the hell...?” His fingers dipped inward.  Soft mush squished against his touch and blood dribbled to the floor as he pulled his hand away.  Chunks of grayish white matter clung to his dirty nails.

“Oh my God, is that my… is that my brain?”  Revulsion flooded his senses.  “No, no, this can’t be possible.  I must be dead.  This is not real!”

He held his fingers before him.  He stared at the mess, not sure what to do.  “Why don't I hurt?  Shouldn't I feel some pain?  Is this a bad dream?”

He looked down at his body.  His clothes were tattered.  His ripped shirt hung down about his waist.  He could almost see his ribs though his thin white skin.  Purple veins created roadmaps across his flesh.  His chest was grimy with a bloody gash across it.  Mud and various liquids stained his pants.  

A scream pierced the silence.  Footsteps, heavy and hard, echoed in the hallway next to him.  Whoever it was seemed to be coming nearer.  “Keep away from me, dammit!”  The voice sounded female.  He heard her take in deep gulps of air as she struggled to keep her pace.

He could smell her sweet bloody odor, delicious, tasty, salty, fresh.  Hunger gripped him in a fervent passion of longing and lust.

He clung to the corner's edge, waiting, waiting for her to come to him.  She rounded the corner and saw him.  She gasped.  The sound was glorious, like music strumming his thoughts.  She was a young thing, barely twenty, with long black hair tied up in a bundle.  She wore a black top with matching black jeans.   Dark red streaks painted her clothing and arms.   She held a bloody axe and knife in her hands.

He had one thought, one desire, one sole reason for being. “Brains!!  I must have her brains.  Oh, the glorious deliciousness!  Lovely, tasty brains!!”  He launched himself at her.  She was his meal.  She would make him happy.  

Her axe arced upward. Down it came to smash into his head.  “Why aren’t you dead?”  she screamed.  “I took off half your head already.  Die, you stupid piece of…”

The hard smack of metal drowned out her sentence.  He was puzzled.  “Why did I fall to the floor?”  He reached for her leg.  “Yummy.  Oh, so yummy…  I'll settle for what I can get!"

She continued her raving.  “Die, damn you, die already.” Smack, smack, smack.  Her axe hit him in the chest.  Pieces of him flew into the air. “Piss off, you stinking zombie!”  

“A zombie?  Wow. That would explain things.”  He thought of how curious and strange it must be to be a zombie as she continued to hit him.   “Why is she so angry?  No reason to get upset. “

He gripped the hem of her pants with his hand.  She tripped and fell to the floor.  Her shoe popped off.  Her foot smelled delicious.  He would start from the bottom and work his way to her lovely brains.  He pulled her closer.  She struggled and screeched like a pig.   His fingernails dug in.  Her spilled blood excited him.

He gnawed on her foot and ripped out a chuck of meat.  “Oh, this is... this is... wow!”  He felt her axe carve off  his jaw and then smash into his skull.   He heard her say as if though a tunnel, “No, oh no, I can’t be one of them!!”  

Metal flashed in the red light as she slit her throat.  The knife slid out of her hand.  Her eyes rolled back and she fell beside him.  Her red blood spilled and flowed outward.   

His body refused to do anything now.  He noted that bits of his brain lay scattered on the floor.  “Guess that's it for me.  Wish I had more….” 

As his sight grew dark, he saw her stir.  She jerked and moaned.  Then she looked at him with clouded eyes.  

"Damn, can't touch her now.  Her flesh is dead."  He heard her move away from him as he drifted into nothingness. 

Word Count: 970
This story was inspired by The Walking Dead.  Love the comic book and the TV series.  The stories are always told from the human's point of view.  So I thought it would be interesting to do it from the zombie's perspective.