I dropped my bag to the ground, taking as much time as I could to ready myself. I stripped the gloves off, one by one and took one swig from the bottle before dumping the remaining alcohol on me. When I pulled the golden lighter from my pocket the first of the undead rounded the corner, with its head held high, nostrils flaring. I smiled and once the flame was lit, I dropped the lighter to the ground. In an almost instant blaze, I was surrounded by orange fire and I rushed the horde coming towards me. This was my testament, my leadership to save my friends from a fate worse than my own. I wouldn’t allow those little boys to witness what I had to.
. . . . .
Mary peeked around the corner from the far building and watched as Hark’s flames slowly burnt out and the horde began its feast on his dead burnt body. He was right. It was a beautiful distraction and the dead only concentrated on Hark as the others got away. Although the morning is still young and the sun still has to rise yet, she thought hopelessly. Mary picked her way along the wall. Jenni and Aber went without her but she chose to stay behind, chose to watch Hark’s grand finale. It was in all curiosity but once Hark lit himself on fire, her curiosity turned to fascination and admiration. She slumped against the wall, staring at the graffiti in front of her. It was strange, the scene, not a typical gang related graffiti. It was a scenic view, a meadow with tall wheat fields and golden sunshine. The rolling hills seemingly going on forever even though it was a painting. Amongst the beautiful gold reeds was a small wind mill, turning lazily in the wind, its bright red roof giving the painting a whole new vibrant feel. The blue sky reminded her of Disney land for some reason and though she had never been, this scene was giving her the same feeling it would give her. Joy. Her fingers found something on the ground and it was a needle, still filled with some kind of concoction left forgotten as the disease had struck. She smiled and waited for the happiness of the drug fueled joy to enter her and pretended she was in Disney land. The graffiti painting was beautiful with the rolling hills, coming to life in front of her even in the dead land.
“Neither repented they of their murders, nor of their sorceries, nor of their fornication, nor of their thefts,” Mary said in a dreamlike voice. And she kept repeating those words until she fell asleep in front of the peaceful image of Tepper’s Mill. A photo of Hark and his wife fluttered by unnoticed, a blotch of drying blood staining the matte surface as fresh scream’s peeled the morning hours of a new dawn.
- Tepper’s Mill Part 3 (terrinjarrell1991.wordpress.com)
- Tepper’s Mill (terrinjarrell1991.wordpress.com)
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