His lifeless, vacant eyes swirled in dry sockets. Falling upon her horror stricken face.
He stands in the corner of the room. Shoulders hunched; his form bent at an odd angle.
She knows what this means. That he is no more. But still she is shocked, still she does not wish to believe. To disagree with herself.
One, miniature, choked gasp errupted from her quivering lips. Her eyes widened and her body trembled as he turned around to face her entirely.
His clothes are ripped and soaked with blood. What’s left of his scalp and hair hang off his skull, dangling in a greasy curtain over his face.
His cadaver twitched, twisted and then moved toward her. Clumps of dried blood and dead flesh tumbled from his open mouth as it parted. Allowing one, solitary, corroded moan to rumble into the claustrophobic space between them.
The horrifying sound crawled itself down her spine in waves of terror, causing her to flinch. But still she tried to ignore her instincts. To reach him in this demonic state.
“Tommy?” She whimpered, taking a step back as he shuffled towards her. “Tommy…please, stop! You don’t want to do this! It’s me, Emma, don’t you remember?”
The tarnished, rumbles of sound increased in volume. One hand, then the other, reached out at her leisurely. His bony, stiff fingers scratched and clawed at the air.
“No! Stop!” She screeched, hysterics appearing within her. “Don’t come any closer!”
He lounged rapidly and she screamed, tripping over herself to avoid him. But it’s not enough, and his fingers catch in her hair. Shredding it from her head in one swift movement. With a howl of agony she stumbled to the ground, holding her bleeding head in her hands.
The infection had begun.
Sorry about any mistakes, as I’m sure there are a lot.
This was rushed when used for my college project. It was placed on one of the book covers I was designing.
I have rewriten it (as it was worse than this so it’s been edited. A lot.) but still there are mistakes and I’m sorry.