The Story Builder

Where Stories Become from Nothing

Living Corpses

After watching World War Z, I was inspired to start a story about the living dead. Feedback is welcome, I’d love to know what you all think.


I lay as still as I can under the bed, any sudden movement would trigger it.  I look to my left, my sister is lying flat on her belly, wide eyed and clutching her favorite doll. A doll that was stained in deep red blood. She looks so small, in her white night gown, her jet black hair curled around her face. Her eyes were swollen from crying and her cherub cheeks were rosy.

How did it all come to this? If we made it out of here alive we’d have no one but each other. Our very own mother was trying to kill us. Not only kill us but devour us.

I was jolted from my thoughts when I heard a low snarl. The door was shut and I could see the shadows of someone-something- moving outside. It slams into the door with a loud bang. My sister lets out a tiny scream. Suddenly all is still.

I look over at her, petrified as she mouths “I’m sorry.”

The banging starts up again until it finally bursts through the door. I can only see shoes but I know who it is. My eyes well up with tears. My mom loved those sandals. Her leg is bent in a grotesque way, almost completely backwards and blood is dripping everywhere. We stay as still as we can as she snarls and limps around the room, searching desperately for something to eat.

My sister, being only six, starts sobbing uncontrollably, “Mommy?” she chokes out. I clasp my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet but it’s too late. Mom, or the thing that used to be mom, drops to the floor and starts reaching for us, snarling and growling like a crazed animal.

We both start screaming as I turn and begin kicking with brute force against the thing’s face. I eventually kick it back enough so I can move out from under the bed and grab the nearest thing I could find, a vase full of bright, vibrant sunflowers, and dump them. I grab the vase with my two hands and let out a scream as I crashed the vase down on the thing’s head. Repeatedly I hit it, aiming to crush it. It screams as if it were in pain until the growling ceases and I’m left on top of the corpse, blood and green goo pooling out of its’ skull.

Sobbing I throw the vase and back away to the wall. I drop down to my bottom and bury my head in my arms as my sister runs to me.

I look over at the flowers on the ground. Mom had just picked those fresh for her garden today. I don’t understand what happened. One minute she’s cheerfully making pot roast while conversing with our father in the kitchen and the next minute I walk in and she’s hunched over my dad grunting. I had to step closer to realize what she was doing, she was eating our father. I don’t know how I managed to make it back up to my room without her noticing. Or how she knew where we were.

I get up and look down at my mom, or what’s left of her. Her skull is crushed and her eye is coming out of the socket. She looked diseased, pale and lifeless.  Her eye is blurry and has turned into a cloudy gray. I look over at my sister who is clutching her doll and whimpering. I pull her up and lead her downstairs. First thing I do is check on dad, he is nowhere to be found.

But he was being eaten, I think to myself. I see a trail of blood leading out the back door. I run to it and lock it. I sit on the couch next to sister and flip on the television. Something was going on and I needed to find out what. I change the channel to CNN and the anchor is yelling into the camera to bolt up the doors and stay inside. No one was safe. The anchor said that there is no known cause for what was going on, only that it was dangerous.  Images flashed from around the world, it was nothing but chaos and destructions and blood. Lots and lots of blood.

We hear a rasping at the door. Hesitantly I get up and look through the peep hole. It’s Billy from across the street. He looks frantic, constantly looking behind his shoulder.

“Hey let me in!” he says as I open the door for him. “Thanks,” he huffs, he’s so out of breath.

“Billy!” I cry, “What is going on?”

“They’re dead. All of them,” he says. I look at him, confused. “They’re alive, but they’re dead. Where are your mom and dad?”

I look at him, and I look back at my sister, who is sitting on the couch holding her knees up to cover her face. I look back at him and shake my head softly. He looks down.

“I’m sorry. This disease has taken over. Come with us, we are leaving town and heading up North. My parents are packing up the car as we speak, you can’t stay here alone,” says Billy.

He was right, our parents were dead, we had nothing. “Let me pack a few things,” I tell him. I grab my sister and we rush up to our rooms.

“Hurry up!” yells Billy.

I quickly grab a suitcase and throw some clothes in there along with our favorite dolls. I stuff the suitcase and force it shut with my body as I zip it up. I grab my sister’s hand as we rush back out. I stop in the hallway to grab a picture of my mom and dad as we run down the stairs.

Billy is looking out the window. “There are a couple of them out there. We’re going to have to be quick,” he says as he looks at us. He grabs the suitcase and I hold on to my sister as he turns the door knob. We bolt out of the door and make a beeline for his parents’ car. They are waving at us to hurry. As we sprint across my sister drops her doll in the middle of the street she lets out a cry. Mom gave her that as a baby, I yell at Billy to take her as I run back to grab it.

“No just leave it!” he screams. I ignore him and run to the doll. I reach down to pick it up and hear distant growling to my left. It’s dad. He’s racing towards me with his bowels outside of his body, dragging alongside him on the ground. I stand there, frozen, staring at him. He’s reaching for me and trips over his own intestines, I hear a loud snap and realize his leg is broken because he can’t get back up. He’s reaching and snarling at me still. I pick up the doll and walk over to him.

I look at him. So pathetic and desperate. This was no longer my father, he was gone. This thing had completely taken over his body.

“I’m sorry dad, I promise I’ll take care of my sister,” I choke out as I lift up my leg and stomp on his head. I stomp and I stomp until he falls limp. I wipe my tears as I run back to the car, there was no way I was going to leave him like that. I climb into the car as Billy’s mom looks at me with a deep sadness in her eyes as she squeezes my knee comfortingly. My sister curls up next to me and takes her doll. We reverse out of the drive way, prepared to go who knows where. As we drive off I look back at our house. I see mom’s sunflowers, as yellow as the sun, with such vibrancy and happiness. I say a silent goodbye to my parents, our home, and to the life we were leaving behind. Nothing would ever be the same again.



This is my entry for Flash Fiction. The prompt was Bad Parents. Let me know what you think! I need feedback.


From the start I knew I wasn’t wanted. Momma was fair with lips as red as apples and eyes as blue as the skies.  “My fairest Claire,” as daddy would put it, he loved momma more than anything.  Daddy was big and strong with a smile full of dazzling white teeth.  My sisters had hair the color of silken honey and skin as smooth as milk.  They looked like a family of beautiful, porcelain dolls.

 I was different. I had short, black, frizzy hair and dark skin. I was pudgy and didn’t look as pretty in matching outfits with my sisters. Why do I look like this, I would ask momma. “I don’t know, dear, that’s just the way you were born.”

 “Am I pretty, momma?” I would ask her, and then watched as downcast her eyes and turn her back towards me. 

 I knew she couldn’t love me like she loved my sisters, her “prized dolls” as she would call them.  Daddy didn’t like me much either. He barely said anything to me at all. He never hugged me, kissed me, or even showed me his perfect smile. He didn’t even like me calling him daddy, he said he would much rather be called by his first name James. I always thought it was silly, why would I call my daddy by his name?

 Every night I would lay down and pray to wake up and look like my sisters, all I wanted was to be loved. But every morning I woke up, still dark, and with a hair that sprung out in coils in all directions.

 My sisters were my only solace. They treated me like family and always tried to help me fit in. They would slick back my hair as straight as it would go, and powder my face with momma’s make up so I would look lighter. And each time momma would come in and scream at me as she yanked me into the bathroom and shoved my face under the running sink.

 “Why do you hate me momma?” I would cry as she harshly wiped my face clean with a rag. She threw the rag down and walked out, leaving me a crumpled on the floor, sobbing and dripping wet.

 The days would go on the same until the summer finally came and it was time for our annual trip to Grandma and Paps near the beach.  It was always so bittersweet to leave home because I wasn’t treated much better there either.

 When we got there I watched as my sisters got hugs and kisses from my grandparents. I walked up the stairs and said hello which in turn got me some pats on the head. We unpacked and got ready for a day at the beach.

 The beach was one of my favorite places to be. While everyone was having a grand time and enjoying each other’s company, I wandered by myself into the distance.  I closed my eyes and breathed in the salty sea air and felt the mist hit my face. I imagined myself as a beautiful princess in a huge castle. Where I had servants to tend to my every need and a mother and father who loved me dearly. I was jolted back to reality by my sisters calling me back since we were leaving. It’s a good thing they were here because I wouldn’t put it past my parents to leave me “accidentally.” 

 After we had all cleaned up, my sisters and I were playing dolls in the playroom. We had tired of that and decided to run out back and play on the tire swing that Paps had built. My sisters ran ahead as I trudged along behind them. As I was passing Grandma’s room I heard faint voices talking. I stopped and listened, it was momma.

 “I don’t know what to do anymore. He keeps calling as asking about her. He wants to see her,” she said. “I hate that I’m being put in this situation.”

 Then another voice responded.

 “Well you should have thought of that when you sinned outside of your marriage with that man. You should feel lucky that your husband didn’t leave you and that he provides for that girl of yours,” said grandma.  “Take her to him, maybe that’ll help you get rid of her.”

 My heart stopped. Were they talking about me?

 “You didn’t really think you’d get away with this, did you, Claire?” grandma continued. “The girl looks nothing like the rest of you.”

 I ran back to the playroom and threw myself onto the bed, sobbing.

 I spent the rest of the vacation alone.

 When we returned home all was normal for a few days. Then one day momma came and had a talk with me. She told me my daddy wasn’t really my daddy, that some man named Richard was. I looked at her with pain in my eyes and sobbed into my hands as she watched, not offering any comfort. She told me that she would be taking me to visit him in the morning.

“But momma I don’t wanna go, I don’t care if this Richard is my real dad, I wanna stay here,” I pleaded. But the next morning she packed a suitcase for me, she wanted to make sure I had clothes in case I got dirty, and ordered me to say goodbye to my sisters. They were as confused as I was, I would see them later when I got back anyway.

 We drove up to a small, brown house. Reluctantly I got out of the car and momma had to pull me to the door. She dropped my suitcase down and knocked hard. We heard the door handle jangle and the door creaked open. Behind it was a large, dark man. He had no hair and several stains on his white shirt. He smiled when he saw me and invited us in.

Momma shook her head. She turned me towards her and bent down so she could be eye level with me.

 “You’re going to stay here and get to know your dad for a few days. Make sure you mind him and be on your best behavior.” I started to whine as she gave me a quick hug. “You’ll take care of her?” she asked the man. He nodded in agreement and took hold of my hand. I tried to pull away as I watched momma walk quickly to the car.  I yelled at her to let me go home with her as tears streamed down my face. The man pulled me into his dirty, smelly home. Sobbing I watched her drive off from the window and heard a click.

 I turned to see the man opening my suitcase and taking out my clothes as if to go put them away. I saw all of my good Sunday dresses and my favorite toys. Why would she pack those if I would be going home in the next few days. Surely I wouldn’t need them here. I followed the man to a tiny room that smelled of dirt and had a small bed in it. He hung up my clothes and turned towards me, “Welcome home,” he said.

 I never saw my family again.

Why am I here?

Why to write of course! 

As an aspiring writer I’m here to challenge myself to become better at writing and to see what you all think of it as well. 

I am open to critique but be forewarned, I am a beginner.

I will be participating in flash fiction challenges as well as featuring prompts that I will unravel into stories