Sometimes at night, wild zombies roam. They wander past, or into our house, and rustle
through the downstairs looking for life. Sometimes, when the moon is high, you can spot one loping down the street.
We used to hear them from the bedroom scratching and sighing, rolling their rotted backs
against the fraying carpet and curtains. They chewed through the legs of the dining room table. Once, I discove...
