Slppe please,
Movies that scared the shit out of me, yep nightmares.
It was that little Indian zombie that got me as he chased me
up in the ceiling. I woke up pretty quick, zombies, vrs teenager. Shit this
sucks. I mean this guy has chased me up into that dam ceiling like four times
and I’m getting pissed. Next time a gun, yeah that’s it.
It worked I got a gun a machine gun, and more so I fought
back, finally I could fight back. In my dreams I could change the out come, some
times but not the world it was conjured in, in this world it is “Dawn of the
dead”. This world was no shit cause, they came at you, and the others, right
there in the hall way and we had to shoot our way through them, those new souls
so terrified by zombies like I used to be got ate by zombies, and quickly our
numbers would dwindle quickly, in our first round. Then the fighters, we
fought, “the head”, I would always yell to someone who decided to fight, and
wildly attacked, We had them pressed, and made it to the escalator, escalator
and zombies is like a coin machine in an old time video house with great stacks
at the area’s where you went up and down sort of the way human shoppers did,
but human shoppers didn’t get pushed over the edge like these did and often a
zombie would just fall after being pushed, these were the close-up ones where
suddenly out of nowhere, a creepy old lady, some teenage kid, or even worse a
little girl zombie they gave me the creeps. We had three floors to go to get up
and I was out the front….
Ice skating, how did we get from up
stairs I thought, as the last nightmare clung to me, of this moment I was back.
Why were we in the skating rink, that’s right it was a clean up job? I looked
down at the two Uzi’s and began skating around the rink blasting zombies. One
by one, giving like a moment to look at who they were, a person, a man with a
suit and tie, a lady with a hat, and then shot them, in the head. It became
easy once you remembered the rules, suddenly Bracken was there my best friend,
and he wasn’t armed. I yelled this way, but he couldn’t get across the ice and
they took him down, as he screamed and fought them biting and tearing. I
watched heart in horror, eye seeing the unconscious friend as dear and a link
to reality, consciousness some distant murmur, of home. The battle field of the
ice rink it was. My fury bent, I enraged
began tearing into them, the one around him sending pieces of zombie brain
flying as my Uzis ripped into them, savagery, violence, memories of what just
happened to Bracken flashed over and over like a looped video while the rage
and sorrow sang. Then back the attic, the door opened again the noise, they
were here I’ve got to get on the roof. I here my fate calling from a distance I
try to warn him and yell all I run across the roof of our house towards the
swinging window. The voice yelled, “John you get up now as my father pulled
down the swinging stair case into my room the attic.” My hearing body assaulted by sound jumped awake;
the start of the mental blend from the attack of the little Indian zombie coming up the stairs
and who was really there my mind struggling with each the sleeping world and
the awake and it took a few minuets to shake this off as the blend continued, my
heart raced, I had jumped to my feet yet stopped unsure whether I was to go
back out the window, Dad a though yelled, a veil lifted, clarity, shaking still
from the flight and fight, the twist into my world, the shock of being back,
the other lingered and the sound echoed, the stairs being lowered, in a great
creaking and cranking as the three piece ladder dropped on to the second floor
hall. It, horror, on the stairs looking at me, fear … Dad’s voice, again clear.
I told Bracken later in the week,
and he just shrugged his shoulders, even though he used to make up stories in
the middle of the night as we walked under the trees in Long Branch Creek Park
of post apocalyptic world were we had to fight to survive and we saw the movie
together. I knew the movie scared him to. The little Indian guy, we both
looked, but then not
The thing is, you never get bit
more than once or twice and nightmares during the chases end before you wake up.
The zombie the same little Indian guy still visited my attic after a month when
I forgot some times to fight. The unconscious rip with new material and the
nightmares blend into my little world happened for some time, the attic door,
Dad, the zombie, attack run fear terror. I then always fought. I crossed a
line, I fought back, always shaped into a new nightmare beyond my control.
Nightmares like life turn and twist
with the road, sometimes there is a reason others are just old fears. I learned
to grow with them both; I became very good at killing, I died, and something
else, I saw more depths of cruelty, horror, acts that lurk in the dark on the
battle field of my nightmares in the real animalistic man the predators that
could walk among us.
THOR
No comments:
Post a Comment