There’s a zombie in the road, stepping out of the morning mists, and he staggers and stands still. The light is behind him, and there’s something human, regal almost, in this decayed thing. His faded eyes scan the forests while his teeth chitter and chomp the air. He’s nearly naked. The ragged clothes hanging off him can’t tell me what he was, where he was from. His flesh is grey and lifeless, and some bit of jewelry hangs from his neck. The hair is white and frazzled, sticking out from his skull like a parody of a mad professor.
I draw my sword. He must hear it, for his head turns toward me instantly. I rise from the bushes as he stretches out his arms toward me and moans in inarticulate pain. His jerking gait brings him nearer and nearer as his cries grow louder and shriller. I wait, my sword balanced on my shoulder. Three more steps, two more, one…I swing and his head rolls off his neck as his body falls.
I walk after the still rolling head. It slowly comes to a stop as I step over it, my blade poised and ready to fall. The eyes gaze up at me; the teeth bite at the air. I drive my sword-point through his skull. It splits open, and a black ooze seeps onto the road, mixing and congealing with the dust.
Tale Told 