Shared from Days with the Undead…
They sat in front of their screens, unable to tear their eyes away from what was unfolding. In some areas reports were sporadic, only coming through hours after the fact when safety and connectivity permitted. In others, they streamed live; shot from balconies and roofs as the world succumbed to the encroaching virus. The feeds were terrifying but the message was the same: the end is nigh…
All Rights Reserved © 2014 Julianne Snow
Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com
Tentative footfalls echo in the expanse of the blackness, their shuffling pinpoints her position for anyone—anything—listening. Eyes wide, trying to make out non-existent shapes, looking forward, unaware of an actual direction.
An inky blur passes in front of her outstretched hand; too fast to make out a shape or size. She startles, her breath catching in her throat, ears straining for any sound.
Where is it?
What is it?
Low growls come from all around her. She’s been circled, trapped.
Hitting the ground, she tosses the candle, hoping they’ll take the bait. But they can smell her fear…
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2020. Julianne Snow
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
It’s crazy what you see when you look into the darkness. Motives are indiscernible and friends are truly enemies when the cards are down. In this corridor we call life, we can open doors on either side of us. But do we choose that new path or continue down the hypnotizing one we’re conditioned to accept? Do we break free of what we believe is preordained? Are we strong enough to look beyond the blinders we’re accustomed to? Or will we stay hypnotized?
All rights reserved. Copyright © 2020 Julianne Snow
Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com
Grasped in my hand, I clutch the chalk, leaving a line of it along the asphalt as a trace your body. When we were younger, the outlines were smaller; butterflies whose wings stopped fluttering, birds who fell from the sky at the end, small squirrels caught beneath the wheels of a faster car.
The world has changed since then. It’s dirtier. Angrier. Apocalyptic in its need to conform to a society where no one cares for their fellow man.
But I still care. As I finish, I look at the tips of my fingers stained dark with blood and chalk.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2020 Julianne Snow
Shared from Days with the Undead…
Like a disco ball, the silver pendant hung from the limb, casting dabbled shadows as it spun in the wind. Underneath it, they gathered, faces skyward, arms reaching for the trinket.
The shot ricocheted off the trees, downing one of them. The burst of sound caused them to cock their heads, trying to discern the possibility of prey. But the cascading pinpoints of light dancing across the landscape pulled them back in.
The pair with the guns locked eyes, their smiles wide as they realized their plan had worked. More shots rang out in the silence of the summer morning.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2014 Julianne Snow
my eyes see all
the good, the bad, and the ugly
even the very ugly
the ugly that makes eyes bleed
the ugly that hurts your soul
warps your mind
wraps its fingers into you
in places where they’re hard to unravel
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2020 Julianne Snow
Shared from Days with the Undead…
Image Courtesy of Pixabay
I could hear it coming down the aisle, knocking against the shelving as it stumbles over discarded books and backpacks. The noise it makes disrupting the silence of the empty library, causing my heart to beat double time. I’m exhausted, my legs burning, lungs unable to draw a full breath, sweat running down my face to pool between my breasts. I can’t keep running.
How could I have known it was trapped in here?
It hissed close to my ear and the adrenalin took over. I burst upward to the left, running full tilt to the door.
They were waiting…
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2019 Julianne Snow
I watch him turn the coins over and over, his eyes darting back and forth as he counts out his passage in his head. I see him pick over each coin, carefully choosing those he will give me.
The frenetic movement of his hands mirrors his eyes, the nervousness fraught with something I can’t quite place my finger on. A strangeness exudes from him, though his appearance is quite normal.
Coming to a silent conclusion, he places nine coins into my outstretched hand; a penny from Canada, a 50 Centavos from Brazil, two 10 Senti from Estonia, and five Kroner from Iceland. I stare at the metal pieces in my hand, the metallic smell of them warm from the heat on his hand.
I lift my face to stare into his, my eyes searching from underneath the cowl of my hooded sweater. My decision to grant him passage was heavy in my hand but was it enough. Did he deserve safe crossing?
The answer comes to me swiftly as my hand turns to dump the coins onto the sand; the guards of the netherworld rush forward, weapons drawn. The beach is painted with his blood, sizzling as it comes into contact with the coins.
Over as soon as it began, the next hopeful passenger steps forward, weighing her own passage in the palm of her hand.
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2020 Julianne Snow
my eyes linger on the other side,
was it any better over there?
glancing behind me, the pain is still there
it’s hunting for me, not able to sink it’s debilitating teeth into my psyche…
for the moment at least
I want to cross over, to go, to live in another space
a space of light, laughter, love
all I needed to do was run to the other side
cross over the wooden rails marking the trail of redemption
but would my feet carry me, would they fail like everything else?
not knowing the answer, I lunge forward,
taking the first step toward freedom
toward a life of less pain, less misery
the path was clear, open
but the teeth sink in, the pain has me
can I ever break free?
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2020 Julianne Snow
Shared from Days with the Undead…
The perfect killer. Small, invasive, self-replicating; it needs you, it loves you…
***
“Mommy, I don’t feel very well…” Angie whined as she rubbed a grubby hand across her nose.
Laurie placed the back of her hand on the little girl’s forehead, judging the severity of her illness by temperature. “Is it your tummy honey?”
“No Mommy.”
“What hurts sweetie?” Laurie looked at the pallid complexion of her daughter, beginning to worry at seeing the dark-rimmed eyes and runny nose.
“I just don’t feel we—” Angie barely got the words out before going limp in her mother’s lap.
Laurie shook her daughter, gently at first growing more concerned at her inability to rouse her. Placing her fingers on her neck, she felt for a pulse, growing alarmed at how cool her daughter now felt. “Angie? Angie! ANGIE!!”
Panicked, she laid her daughter on the couch as she grabbed for the phone. Dialing 9-1-1 quickly, she cradled the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she waited for the line to connect. Still she searched for a pulse…
“Police, Fire or Ambulance?”
“Ambulance!”
Laurie waited a few more seconds as the general dispatcher connected her to the correct department, growing agitated at the delay. She stroked her daughter’s face with one hand as she pushed deeper into her daughter’s neck with the other. Why couldn’t she find a pulse?
“Ambulance. What’s your emergency?”
“It’s my daughter. She just fainted and I’m having trouble finding her pulse, can you send an ambulance please?!?”
“Is your daughter breathing?”
“No!”
“Do you know CPR?”
“No!! Oh my God, she’s going to die isn’t she??”
“Ma’am, calm down and do as I say. Can you put the phone on speaker and put it down beside your daughter?”
“Yes, hang on a second…” Noise can be heard in the background of the call as Laurie fumbles with the phone. She comes back a moment later sounding a little farther away. “Okay what do I do?”
“I need to take your finger and scoop out anything that may be in her mouth first.”
“Okay, gimme a second.” More noise can be heard in the background, then a piercing scream echoes over the line.
“Fucking hell! She bit my finger!”
“Ma’am?”
“Angie! Oh thank God you’re awake! I was so worried!”
“Ma’am?”
“Let me get a towel for my finger.” Laurie’s voice seems farther away as she addressed the phone again, “Operator if you’re still there can send help for me? It seems my daughter’s bite reflex was a little stronger than I expected.”
“Your daughter bit you? Is she conscious now?”
“Yes, she seems to be alert, though she’s still very pale and seems confused. Sweetie, stay on the couch I’ll be right back.”
All Rights Reserved © 2014 Julianne Snow
The FlipSide of Julianne 