Zombie of One

by Impossible Numbers

The First Nightmare

Ruby was in the kitchen when she heard the thump. She knew by sudden instinct what it was. That was why she started to shake.

Her back was to the door. Beyond the rectangle of wood, there would be the narrow strip of main hall leading to the door, and to the stairs, and to the landing above.

Overhead, a footstep. Another footstep. A third. Then a scraping, as of a leg being dragged across a carpet.

Ruby forced herself to stare at the little window over the sink. Pretend she was about to wash up. Pretend this was normal. Pretend she couldn’t hear the footstep, the footstep, the footstep, the scraaaaaape…

Footstep, footstep, footstep, scraaaaape…

Her lungs breathed heavily, like rabbits fighting the urge to run. Little puffs escaped her open lips. The muscles in her head and neck had turned to iron, forcing her still. The urge squeezed her legs in a tight embrace, ironically making them impossible to move.

Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t, please don’t…

The footsteps did. The thump and creak of the staircase banged out their own slow, lugubrious funeral march. She knew them better than the notes on a xylophone. One thump sounded louder than the others as the leg dragged behind.

Ruby could make out the stains on the sideboard, every chaotic squidgy ridge and micro-detail on the soiled dishes, the smallest bubble in the all-too-low washing-up liquid. She had to start the washing up. Her body knew it. Her mind didn’t want to make the slightest noise. But she tried holding her breath, and the urge in her lungs became frantic. As quietly as she dared, she let the breaths puff on, wishing she could escape with them.

Thump… thump… THUMP.

Hope noticed the slight pause, then:

Footstep, footstep, footstep, scraaaaape…

Please go in the living room, please go in the living room, please-go-in-the-living-room, pleeeeaaaase!

Footstep, footstep, footstep, scraaaaape…

And then the low, pained, pitiful moan. Right outside the door.

Ruby was so desperate to flee she locked up entirely. Even her breathing caged itself behind clenched teeth and tight lips.

Stare at the window. If she didn’t see it, it wouldn’t be there.

The door creaked open.

She felt the emptiness behind her. Sensed something spotting her. Or perhaps it always knew she was there, and this was just the final check.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no!

But she knew now she was done for.

The groan, when it came, was not the muffled maybe of before. It rumbled through the floor, hooked Ruby’s ears, gripped her skull and squeezed until her eyes threatened to burst. It lowed with sudden interest.

Ruby didn’t dare look behind. She knew it would be the worst thing she could do.

She refused to look as the footsteps and the scrape sounded harsher and harsher, she refused to look when she felt the breath of its groan on her flanks, she refused to look as a faint shape shifted in the windowpane – she rammed her eyelids shut – she refused to look when its rasping, throaty, predatory gargle hungrily closed in on her ears, she refused to look, she refused, she had to –

Sharpness.

---

Ruby screamed as the teeth let go of her nape, the kitchen dissolved, and she curled up under the blanket before ramming the pillow over the back of her neck like a shield.

The bed. The safe, safe bed.

Darkness all around.

Alone.

The nightmare had gone. For now.

Tears streamed her face, but Ruby was too scared to rub them off. She was too scared to move at all. Her legs ached in their twistiness. All the same, she refused to uncurl. She didn’t dare move, even now. She had to.

Yet she couldn’t tell anyone either. The nightmares were always bad, but the thought of going out of her room in the dark, of finding another bedroom she wasn’t allowed to go in, not knowing what was inside?

A snore echoed through the wall. For a moment, it sounded too much like the beginnings of a groan.

Ruby willed herself to stay calm. She’d just have to stay up all night. Just the one night. Next night, she’d go to bed early to make up for it.

She knew the zombie was waiting for her. It wanted her to dream. One day, she knew it would go too far and she simply wouldn’t wake up in time.

She was ashamed of herself. So stupid. So weak.

She was eight years old.

---

Comments

[Lonestar347]

The first nightmare...

I decided to read this story since the summary interested me and I was not disappointed. To me, this was a great first impression. There's only one issue I had with this first chapter, it was way too short. I can't wait to read the rest, impressive work.

[Mr.Pink]

Same

[Bronycommander]

interesting. kinda reminds m e of how i void up nightmares for foreshadowing