Dark Tales

I don’t want to be a part of it, you know. This whole cure bollocks: shamblers like me, learning to love again, turning back into humans. That’s all we could want, right? To escape this life of cold, insatiable hunger, to gain back our warm bodies, to feel the electric current of life coursing through our rotten tendons and corroded bones? To live again, and maybe even find love with the living..

Not me. Screw being alive.

Humans are weak. And delicious.

But apparently, everyone else wanted it. Even the ones whose skin had festered away to grey mutton; even the ones whose eyes hung limply from their sockets, like ping-pong balls in an old condom (can you imagine their dating profiles?). They all wanted it. Except me. Cure – urgh. That word just makes me want to chunder.

The rough stone walls rattled, dust showering down over my limp, straggly hair. Shaking my head, I glared