by Ari Collins
I again placed my right hand on the headless zombie's chest. Thrum-thrum. Thrum-thrum. I dug through filmy necrotic muscle. Thrum-thrum. Thrum-thrum. There it was: a pacemaker, loyal in the face of obscenity.
I stomped the creature's chest until the only heartbeat I heard was my own, in my ears, and joyful.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Night of the Living Edgar
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1 comment:
7th sentence is a keeper:)
like it!
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