I am currently writing a short story about zombies. It is not finished yet, but we will see where it goes. However, as I continue to think about where the story could go, I find myself  thinking  about a great plot, that is really too sophisticated for a short story. I feel that it would be a good topic to use if I were to write a novel. I am not sure that I am currently at a level of writing where I would like to take on a novel, however it is something to keep in mind. I would like to outline the plot, however many aspects would be the same as in the story I am currently writing, so I do not want to spoil it.

This is the first part of my zombie story. I am not yet finished, but I figured I would at least post what I had.

The Flesh Eaters

Something seemed somehow off while I was walking Polo. It was a nice day. Warm, green, and there was a nice breeze coming from the west which kept one from becoming sweaty. Some bothersome birds were twittering their heads off at each other, but other than that, it was quiet.

It was quiet.

That is what was off. It was a beautiful Saturday, and yet not a soul was out. Not a car, or pedestrian, or bicyclist. Normally, the park would be littered with kids, and one could not go on the path without every five seconds having to step to the side to allow a jogger to pass. It was pleasant without the crowds, but now that I realized the deadness of it all, it was also quite eerie.

I passed the McDonald’s and noticed on the sign that they had come out with the triple McManwich. The sign had a cartoon of three cartoon Ronald McDonalds tucked inside of a bun. I just about gagged at the thought of someone eating one of the things. The double was a sufficiently disgusting portion as it was.

I continued my walk until I reached my porch. As I unlocked the door, my next door neighbor Laird stepped out of his house, and without even closing the door, ran down the street. I yelled to him, asking what his hurry was, but he continued his path, as if not even hearing me. I was just stepping in when several other front doors around the neighborhood opened, and the residents followed the same path as Laird.

I thought this odd, sure, but it did not seem to concern me, so I stepped inside, wiped my feet, and sank into the couch. Expecting to watch last night’s recordings, I found it very disappointing to find the president giving a speech to me on every channel. It took me a moment to fully process what he was saying. Apparently the country was in a state of emergency. He was saying something about the meat factories, but the whole thing was out of context.

I looked at the news on my iPad, and what it showed was extremely disheartening to say the least.

I read the article and it said that CannaTech, the only human flesh producer in the world, had shut down production completely. They were not going to make any more shipments, and they gave no reason as to why. The article showed footage of huge masses of people huddled around restaurants and grocery stores. No one was let into the stores, and fights were breaking out everywhere. The police had arrived, it appeared, but it would be like holding off a lion with a toothpick if things came to force.

I put down my iPad, and turned off the TV, soaking in all of the information. I had to leave this place, lest my door get knocked down and get torn apart. As quickly as I could, I packed an overnight bag, a box of canned food, survival gear, a first aid kit, clothes, and finally, a doggy bag for Polo. I piled all of this stuff, and Polo into my SUV, and opened the garage.

Since I had been inside, a large crowd had amassed outside of the grocery store, with hundreds, possibly thousands of people all trying to claw their way inside. I tried to ignore them, by driving right on by, however the crowd was so large that many people flooded into the street. Those on the outskirts of the crowd began to gather around my car, pounding, and shouting. I continued driving however, and fearing getting run over, the sea of lunatics around me stubbornly parted. I was almost out when Laird came up to the driver’s window, and with a heavy smack, cracked the window, nearly shattering it. I floored it.

Perhaps I should explain.

Several years ago there was a major outbreak of a peculiar disease which affected approximately ninety- five percent of the world’s population. This disease, had no symptoms, except for giving the afflicted an all- consuming desire to eat human flesh. If the afflicted was fed a sufficiently satisfying fill of human flesh, then they were completely fine. However, if the afflicted was for any reason denied human flesh, he or she would gradually become more and more desperate, eventually coming to the point of attacking anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his or her path, tearing the flesh right from their body. There was clearly a high demand for human flesh, but no obvious means of acquisition except through murder.

Then, as if from nowhere a corporation called CannaTech declared that they had found a way to humanely mass produce human flesh. Nobody really knew their means, for no one really wanted to know. Since then, they have had a monopoly on the human flesh industry, the largest industry in the world. Clearly, something that huge simply shutting down without any warning whatsoever would shake the world.


Two nights ago, I had a dream. This dream took place in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and it gave me an idea for a new story. I know that many writers have dream journals in which they write, and get ideas. Well, I'm not going to make an actual journal, but I will take an idea from a dream. Now, these were not just any zombies. They were real people, who just had an affliction that made them want to eat human flesh. As long as their flesh craving was satisfied, they were completely sane. So, there were factories that produced human flesh to be distributed to the flesh eating population. However, one day all of the factories were shut down, so all of the flesh eaters went crazy for human flesh. There was rioting, and people ate each other, and the whole thing was just a big mess. So, that is where the story would take place, from the point of view of a guy who did not have the flesh eating affliction, and had to survive.

I have finished reading the first story in The Miniature Wife collection of short stories. The one I have read is called "William Corbin: A Meritorious Life". It is really more of a fictitious anecdote about how clowns came into being.
Apparently, long ago there was actually a race of man called the Klouns. They were strange looking people who were often found performing for carnivals or some sort of show. William was not a Kloun but wished to be one, and so taught himself the ways of Klouns. He later began impersonating a Kloun and traveled to the Klounkovan territories. He was discovered however, and was run out of the Klounkovan territories. After that, he began to teach others the way of the Kloun. These people continued the craft, and taught others even after the Klouns went extinct.
It was a short fun read, which taught me a few things. First of all, it showed me that the stories do not always have to span a short amount of time, or be in real detail. This story just gave the broad outline of an entire life in three pages, as opposed to, say, The description of the events in an hour spreading over twenty pages. I will try to continue reading and postig about the stories in this book.

I have acquired another book of short stories. This one is called "The Miniature Wife" by Manuel Gonzales. I finished a few stories in the last book when I decided to get a new one. The stories in "Vampires in the Lemon Grove" were intriguing and entertaining, but I don't think they are my style. They were also, as far as short stories go, rather lengthy, and I just do not have the time these days to read and really absorb the material. In "The Miniature Wife" however, the stories are really short stories, ranging from about three to ten pages. Not only does that make them more convenient for me, but that's also closer to the length that I write.