This story, while also being in the #Zombieluv Contest, was inspired by a #Storystarter by Clifford Fryman. The prompt appears in bold below.
Be sure to check out the #Storystarters hashtag on Twitter for a wealth of great prompts. Thanks, Clifford.
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She ripped the ligaments from the guard’s corpse. There was more than one way to escape a tower. She tried to tie the ligaments together into a rope, but they were too slippery. She looked around the small room and spied her blow dryer, and grinned.
They had taken all her styling products when they cut off her hair. All those yards of silky golden tresses, gone with three snips of the scissors; it was the worst punishment that witch of a warden could have thought up. Afterward, she could only watch numbly as they took away the scented shampoos, the conditioners and gels, the brushes, curlers, and straightening irons. It would be just like the warden to have left the blow dryer on purpose to torment her.
She plugged the dryer in and turned it on, and began blowing hot air on the fleshy strings. In no time at all, they were dry enough to tie. She made sure all the knots were tight, and turned the blow dryer on them once more for good measure.
When she was satisfied her rope was secure, she tied its end to one of the metal bedposts. She shoved the bed over to the window and threw the rope out. It reached down far enough that there was only a short drop to the ground.
She was ready to crawl through the window when she heard a groan behind her. She nearly fell out the window in surprise, and turned back. The guard was surely too dead to make that noise.
But there he was, ribbons of flesh hanging from his bloody bones, getting up. And he was indeed making that ridiculous gurgling sound. It seemed to come from every torn bit of him.
“Razzie,” he moaned. “Why are you leaving me this way, honey?”
“I’m not your honey,” she said. “I killed you once, but I’ll kill you again if you don’t leave me alone.”
“Don’t be like that, baby,” he whined. His face was swollen and gray, his eyes bulging in their sockets. Not so handsome now, was he?
“Some prince you are,” she told him. “You’re nothing but a guard. Did you really think I wouldn’t see through your lies? Or that we wouldn’t get caught? I can take you away from here, you said. Just let me nibble on your neck, you said. I’m a sucker for a pretty face, but I really hate being lied to by one. And I know when to cut my losses.”
“We can still make it work,” he burbled, blood dribbling from the corners of his tattered mouth. “And I am a Prince, Ralph Prince, Jr. That’s my name. You just misunderstood me a little.”
“The warden cut off my hair when she caught us,” she said, and swung her legs out the window. “Cut. Off. My. Hair. Because of you, you smelly idiot, to keep me from using it to climb out of here and run off with you. You wouldn’t let something like that happen if you really loved me.” Tears stung her eyes, and her stomach rumbled. How could she be so hungry at a time like this? She braced her feet against the outer wall, and holding the rope of his flesh tightly, rappelled down the tower.
Ralph Prince, Jr. shambled over to the window and watched her go.
“I got fired, you know,” he yelled, spraying teeth into the air. He saw her reach the end of the rope and let go. When she landed on the cobblestones below, he heard a crack as her ankle snapped. She cursed and tried to realign her foot with her leg. She shuffled off, leaving a trail of blood and bits of flesh behind her.
“Come on, Razzie. We’re meant to be together. Just wait for me by the gate. I’m coming.”
He ran out of the cell and down the tower steps as fast as his ragged, ligament-free body would let him. He knew she would forgive him eventually. They were made for each other, and he had known that from the first. She knew it, too, in spite of her fairy-tale fantasies.
He stumbled out into the courtyard and grinned with relief when he saw her at the gate, feeding on a hapless sentry. She looked up when he approached and sniffed.
“I wasn’t waiting for you,” she said. “I was hungry.” But she stood up and smiled, blood dribbling down her chin.
“We’ll find more food together,” he said, holding out his hand. They walked arm in arm out of the castle grounds.
“I told you I’d get you out of there, didn’t I?”
“Oh, Ralphie,” she gurgled, “you’re something else.”
- The story must be a romance between two zombies. Make it as horrific as you like. 😉
- Stories containing animal cruelty, torture, graphic sex or violence, any form of exaltation of violence, racism or other forms of prejudice will be immediately disqualified.
- Post your entry on your own blog, with a title resembling this:
- Leave your story title and a link to the story entry post as a comment at mari’s randomities: http://marisrandomities.blogspot.com
- Copy and paste the contest logo and the guidelines at the end of your entry post.