The Killing Fields A Flash Fiction Horror

The burden of darkness forced all of us to this barn. We barricaded the doors with long-unused bales of hay and boarded the windows with the warped spare barn wood. We’re the survivors, all twenty of us. Our last encampment was overrun by an aggressive horde and none of us were prepared. Those who could, those who weren’t already maimed from previous assaults or the needed subsequent escape, deserted their homes.

However, the barn can’t be our home either. There’s no food and no water and no enclosures to protect us and the fact of the matter is staying in a barn for defense is futile though. In the morning we’ll depart westward. In the western coastal cities mankind found a way to prosper despite the outbreak. Every refugee’s goal was to get to California and to live a safe life free from the swarms.

We departed by sunrise and our smooth journey up until noon proved it was God’s attempt to lull us into comfort. We were crossing small hill of the plains. The grass was vibrant and it seemed as if mankind had started right here in the plains. As we marched up a higher hill we saw the swarm. They’d already smelled us and their attention was directed at our group. Honed over the years of experiencing this phenomenon, we turned to run. We stampeded down having no care for one another. A man in his fifties who tumbled down the hill was trodden by those who followed from the back. He looked too injured to get up. He was done for.

The horde was too fast this time. Much faster than I’ve ever seen before and we started to get run down. First those in the back were jumped on mid-sprint and met their bloody demise. I split off of the group in hope to survive, a handful of the horde separated from the pack to chase me down. The open plains were my greatest detriment I was getting tired and the large expanse gave me no where to hide. They were gaining on me and I had no energy to keep going. They jumped on me and clawed and bit there way into my flesh. Then it was over.

Then my eyes opened again. I perceived the world much the same as before my body was still bleeding but clots were rapidly happening in my wounds. After a few moments of being dazzled by the sudden brightness of the sun I felt my first call for flesh and I had no mental processes to quench this craving. I knew where the others had gone so I knew where to get my fill. Dying had been so simple. It’s coming back when things got interesting.


Thank you to Lyza at https://wordaddictionsblog.wordpress.com who offered the following prompt: Dying is simple. Its coming back when things get interesting.

 

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5 thoughts on “The Killing Fields A Flash Fiction Horror

  1. Interesting transition into a zombie. My favourite bit. I think your story had a little too much telling, rather than showing, but this is a risk with all shorter fiction, especially when you’re taking in such a huge and different theme, like a zombie apocalypse.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: The Killing Fields A Flash Fiction Horror | Phil Slattery's Blog

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