A Halloween tale

ANAMOSA - I remember the first day. Nobody was worried.

Everyone just thought it was another bizarre person on bath salts. Who would've guessed that all of those doomsday, zombie fanatics were right? Now, I'm sprinting from Mrs. Jones, who looks like someone had just battled the beast leaving her jaw in shreds.

There's a complete loss of time in a world full of darkness. Time passes from the rubble you see of homes that used to be the center of someone's family, or the ash that covers the earth from all of the existence that was engulfed in flames.

I listened to the screeching and groans from behind me as Mrs. Jones' mouth dangles from left to right with every step.

With only a spear made of scissors and some yardsticks, I turn the corner of the art room and stare at her from across the hall. In a matter of seconds she catches my scent and begins in my direction at a full sprint. With only a moments notice, I slide across the floor beneath and around the decaying memory of my teacher. With a swift kick and a slice from my blade, she collapses to the ground with a thud.

Senior year was supposed to be the best, with homecoming, football and prom. Back then, my biggest worry was turning in scholarships. Running down the hall through the darkness of my school, trying not to get eaten wasn't even a bad dream of mine, not even a passing thought.