I Love Old, Dark Trees

They help me when I’m surrounded by terrible, awful, evil zombies.

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Photo credit: Darrin Atkins

I may not have told you this before, but I hate zombies, especially on the days I’m supposed to meet up with my lover.

“You can’t be out here at night!" screamed a voice from a rooftop.

I sprinted faster away from where I should not have left.

“Get back inside," yelled a lady. “You know the rules!"

“I can make it," I whispered to myself.

It was too late to turn back as I knew the zombies of the night had figured what I was up to.

I can’t help myself. It’s been too long since I was in my lady’s arms, since she caressed me under my shirt, since she touched me softly.

It was only 800 or so meters to the brick bunker. Sherri was there and she knew my plan and knew when and what I was doing.

“Run faster!" I screamed inside my head.

I could hear a small group of ugly, stinky zombies pound the pavement after me. I could sense they were desperately hungry for my flesh.

They never hid in the group of old, dead trees right in front of me. So that was my destination.

I sprinted inside the little forest and knew I had seven seconds until they came in after me. I glanced behind me and counted a dozen very big, very desperate zombies.

I climbed up the biggest, strongest old tree I could find. This wasn’t easy for me because I’m not the best tree climber. I’ve practiced a lot lately, in anticipation for today, but it’s never enough.

I glanced to the brick bunker across the way and to the steel door out front.

There is a peephole in the door. They can see me now. They won’t open the door unless I’m running up to it with at least a three-second separation from the lunatic devil zombies trying to rip me apart for dinner.

I’m up in the tree now. I try not to think of the danger.

Instead, I focus my thoughts on Sherri.

Her long brown hair. Her green eyes. The golden dress she loves. And the pink blouse too.

“Be still," she said last time as she gave me a slow, long kiss when I had to leave. “Remember this kiss."

I remembered it too well, I suppose.

I broke off a heavy branch and hurled it down at the first zombie. I pulled out some tar balls from my bag, lit them on fire, and tossed them down on some of their heads. They don’t feel pain but they do have trouble walking when fire tar is on their eyeballs.

There were two zombies left. I had two sharpened crowbars from my bag so I pulled them out and jumped down from the tree to fight them.

One came at me real quick. I shoved my first crowbar into his neck and let it stick out.

The last zombie moaned as he lunged at me. I swung my remaining crowbar hard and hit his skull like it was a fastball in the bottom of the ninth inning. I then slammed the tip of the crowbar inside his left ear and out his right ear.

“Hurry!" screamed someone in the bunker.

I don’t remember how fast I ran or who opened the steel door at the bunker.

But I remember Sherri relaxing with me by the fire, comforting me, and moving my hands wherever she wanted them to go.

Written by

writer and novelist. traveler and adventurer. looking for fun in the sun. chasing the dream. can't stop the feeling that time is going faster.

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