Stranger In A Full Moon

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 2 (v.1) - Chapter Two

Submitted: September 07, 2016

Reads: 35

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Submitted: September 07, 2016

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The man held his gaze out of the window for so long that he almost forgot about the lit cigarette in his hand. The small orange hue burned out of the corner of his eye, which drew his attention back to it as he brought the small remainder of the cigarette to his mouth and drew heavily on the filter as the smoke gently lifted into the air above it, obscuring his view of what was outside. As he stubbed the cigarette on windowsill, he noticed the slow shambling of a zombie along the road opposite his flat.
Zombies or the undead took the space of homeless on the street. Though, not as violent and mindless as most perceived them before their emergence, they did still only eat raw meat and flesh. Their ability to think and move clearly, degraded as their hunger increased, till they fell apart and rotted in the streets only to be cleaned up or were eaten by other undead. No one knew how many undead there really was, nor how they came to be. But many viewed them as pests due to the inability to function in society and the putrid smell they produced hence the much lower class/homeless rank they had been given.

“There's always at least one out there.” the man quietly remarked to himself, almost mumbling as if he was making an effort not to be heard by someone else in the room. Although, he shared his home with no one else, he knew that spectres and ghosts did frequent around the area. He held no grudge toward any appearances to them as most just passed through or wanted someone to talk to, but the man was in no mood for that tonight. As the smell of smoke began to dissipate into the air, the man took a seat at the table centred in the middle of the living room. The wood on the table had visibly worn over time from meals, drink stains, age and even knife marks. It had definitely seen much better days. The sound of liquid pouring filled the room as it carved away at the silence. The man held the glass of whiskey in his hand for a long time, gently swirling the drink inside at times as if inside it there was something hidden within. It wasn't till the early hours of the morning that the whiskey had been consumed, shortly followed by snoring as the man had fell into deep slumber on the years-old dining table.  


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