said the zombie finally as he sat across from the girl and leaned back into the luxurious leather of the French provincial arm chair. “I not only stayed with the wolves, but I became their leader. Or at least, they looked to me to lead them and I did. “Life with the pack was simple. We hunted. We defended our territory. We sheltered. The pack was everything to me and I was everything to them, for I was Alpha.” “Alpha?” the girl asked. The zombie gazed at the girl. As much as he wanted to tell his story fully to someone, it was the interruptions, always the interruptions that brought out his nature and ultimately led to failure. The girl smiled under the weight of his stare. He smiled back even as he imagined tying the girl to the chair, using a surgical saw to cut a circle around her cranium so he could remove the cap of her skull and get at the tissues of her living brain. Even as he imagined scooping up those tissues a bite at a time with a citrus spoon while the girl writhed and screamed.
What do You think about When Winter Bared Our Bones?
