Member-only story
I Know My Name Used to be Rita.
I asked my daughter to give me something to write about. She said I should go outside of my comfort zone and said I should write about zombies. She set my clock and here is my thought on what a zombie might be thinking about. Enjoy.
I know my name use to be Rita. I know that I use to wait tables at a diner. I remember having a loving husband and an adorable little girl. These memories come to me in short flashes. Quick glances of my old life. The everyday things I use to do, then the flashes of war and a bomb. It’s all so hazy now.
I move so slowly, always searching, always hungry. The things I use to eat don’t interest me anymore and I doubt I could stomach them anyway. What I hunger for now is raw flesh any type will do as long as it’s fresh.
I hate what I have become the walking undead. I pray for death each morning when I wake, but it never comes. I am so clumsy now, not able to hold things in my hands. I trip over anything in my path because it’s easier than trying to go around it. I keep going always searching, the hunger drives me now. It’s all I can think of besides death because I know that when I feed, the flashes of memories will come and for a few precious moments I can remember what I use to be.
I see my prey and I follow him. So scared, I can smell the fear radiating off of him. He tries to hide but my sense of smell is so sensitive I could find him no matter what he does. My prey is so fast but he tires so quickly. When I finally catch him he lets out a scream and it jolts my memory, holding my child, but then it’s gone. I start to feed and as I start to remember I pray for death. It’s getting so hazy… I remember my name used to be Rita…
