We give thanks

My nostrils filled with the wonderful smell of roasting turkey, my eyes though were caught by my mother's glare. I had arrived late to my mother's house and found that indeed I was the last person to get there. Luckily though I did not miss any of the meal and was able to finally sit down with the family.

My father spoke grace and we all went around the table to state what we are thankful for. As usual most of the answers had to do with loving family or a job, all that corny stuff. When it was finally my turn, all I could come up with was that I was thankful for the girl I had romped with the night prior. Not one person spoke after I finished, and I felt a little weird with everyone staring at me with their mouths open. Finally, my sister broke the silence with her thanks and we started dinner.

I ate so much food I thought that I was going to burst at the seems. I think I polished off one whole turkey all on my own, plus potatoes and stuffing. Of course i would not go unpunished for indulging that much, as I had the worst indigestion for an hour after the meal was over. During which time all I could do was sip some milk and pepto bismal. Once my body finally found the time to catch up on its digestion it went away, but I was assaulted with the usual sleepiness that comes from eating turkey.

It didn't take me five minutes before my eyes were drifting downward that I had passed out. It felt like I had slept for quite some time when I was awoken by the sound of the fire alarm. I immediately jumped out of the chair to look for the smoke and what was going on. My eyes began to water as I found the source of the smoke. I could feel the heat coming off the stove where it looked that a pan or cloth was on fire, the flames reaching higher until they licked the ceiling and were about to spread.

Instinct took over as I ran to the extinguisher and started to spray the flames until finally I had put the fire out. "Why didn't anyone else see this?" I asked of my family, but no one answered me. It was strange that no one would be there, but maybe they had left him. I opened the window to finally let in some fresh air and to vent the smoke from the room. It was cool on my face and cleared my vision. A sound from behind me caught my ears and I looked to see who it was.

What I did see though was not what I was expecting. There, not ten feet in front of me was the turkey we had all eaten for dinner. It was missing all of its meat and was just a skeleton being held together with little bits of fat. In one "hand" it held a large fork and the other had a carving knife. This knife scared the shit out of me, which looked both menacing and amusing in a turkey's hand. Blood dripped down it and onto the floor.

I made a move to the left, but it followed me. I moved to the right, but again it was with me. Seeing as how this bird was between me and the exit, i was not going to play this game anymore. I feinted to the left, drawing it that way then dodged to the right. I was lucky that it fell for it and I was around it before it was able to correct itself.

I ran for the door, hoping that I was going to get out of this place. Behind me I could hear the sound of the turkey running along as well. A quick glance back and I nearly crapped my pants. It was coming at me so fast that if I didn't concentrate I would never make it out alive. Unfortunately I was not looking and I found myself flying through the air as I tripped over something. It only took  a quick look for me to recognize the body of my uncle.

I hit the ground hard, knocking the breath from my lungs. As I gasped for air the turkey leaped onto my chest. With a last ditch effort I put my arms up, trying to block and parry any attack that it may do. I felt pressure on my arms and it felt like I was going to die from the pain.

"Hey, wake up!" The voice was yelled into my face. I opened my eyes and saw my cousins gripping my arms tightly, trying to shake me awake. "You fell asleep, and you were screaming." It must have been a dream after all.

"Oh thank god." I said. "I am really so thankful for you, and really all of you. I just want to apologize for the way I have been acting." With that I hugged my cousins, truly thankful that things were not too bad. Everyone seemed glad that I had snapped out of it and was now being a part of the family. With all the holiday cheer though, nobody noticed the turkey reach over and grab the carving knife.


Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

What would you do?

  I have posted a lot on here about my stories, but one thing that I haven't really talked about is  something more real, and that is preparedness. Being ready for the unthinkable and surviving to tell the tale of it. So, I will ask a simple question here, what would you do? Two situations. First: you run into a zombie while you are on a deserted road. It is open, and there is just one of them. Second: you are in your home with family or close friends. Several of them are breaking through your front door, back door is clear. Do you fight, and take out the threat or run?
  In the first situation, I would say run. And here is how it would play out for me, in story form.
     The sky is clear this night, with the stars easily visible. There are so many in the sky one could easily get lost thinking how many there could be. The road is empty as I kick a rock out in front of me. With no cars or people around, I don't have to worry about hitting anyone or anything. There is a soft crack sound from the wooded area to my left, most likely it is a squirrel.
      There is a terrible smell that causes my nostrils to burn and my throat to gag. I nearly throw up when I notice someone come from around a corner. I can immediately tell that the smell is coming from them. They are moving in a strange way, jerking a little bit and shuffling their feet. Arms upraised I hear a soft moan escape from their lips. I am terrified as they get closer. I run out into the empty road and move around it. Their arms are still raised, but they move slowly and turn to where I am. I realize that they are slow, and I am faster. Once I am around them, I start speed walking home. I quickly lose sight of them and when I get home I ensure that I have a weapon near my bed that night.
  Now, if I were at home and protecting my family, you can bet there would be some rage against the zombies going on.
       The banging at the door is getting louder. There are now three of them trying to get into my house and eat me. My wife and kids are crying behind me, fear apparent across their faces. I know that we could escape through the back door, but I do not know if there are more out there. Also, they could follow and what good would it do to flee. I grab a small baseball bat and several wooden spears fashioned from a broom and mop.
      With the spears in hand and the bat in reach, I twist the knob quickly and open the door. I think there was a look of surprise on the faces of the zombies, but I did not give them long before I stabbed the first one through the eye with one of my spears. It sunk in deeply and down it went. My second spear found it's mark on my next target. With two bodies, the third was slowed down significantly which gave me the time to regain my bat and to swing with all my might. The bat was small, so it took multiple hits, but it was sturdy and hard and survived long enough to end the last zombie. Breathing deeply I stood over the bodies, blood on my hands and clothing dripped into a forming puddle.
        A bright light shone into my eyes and the sounds of a police officer could be heard from the porch. I must look like a serial killer standing over the dead like that, but at least my family was safe.

So, how would you do it in these situations?

A desolate heart?

  The land is desolate, as desolate as my heart. I sometimes wonder whether I feel this way because the land is empty, or if the land seems more empty because I feel this way. "Sigh, nothing is ever going to change." Glass crunches beneath my boots and I freeze my movements. Too much sound can lead to problems. I scan the area around me, looking for anything that  could be a danger.
  The city around me appears to be deserted. Burned out cars line the roads and windows are smashed in most buildings, many are themselves burned out hulks. The wind blows trash in spirals and whistles through and around the buildings. It is an eery sound, almost like a moan from a sad ghost.
   Whatever is in this city though, most likely it is not friendly. Nothing is friendly anymore. To live and survive one must be hard as stone and tough as nails. Even the wind is mean in its coldness and emptiness. I tighten my jacket around myself and continue onward, because moving forward is the only thing left to do now.

I think this may just start my next story. I know it may need a little bit of work, but I think the thought is a good one.

Writing tonight

I was writing my new short story tonight, and even though my eyes were heavy I didnt want to stop writing. I finally had to when something that I wrote made absolutely no sense at all. I guess when you are writing, it isnt good to do it tired.

Here is a little bit of the story that I have written so far, just for a taste.

"I wouldn’t date you if you were the last man on Earth." Have you ever heard that statement, or even said it to someone else? I have. I heard it all the time in High school and even in college. Who are the main culprits? Those girls that were too pretty for their own good and had too much money from their daddy are. I was always the dorky kind of person. A little bit overweight and a little bit socially inept and immediately all girls think you are never worthy of them. Didn't they realize that a good mate wasn't some jock with no brains, but someone with a good IQ and would actually have a career?