Every day in the park

Submitted into Contest #60 in response to: Write a post-apocalyptic story that features zombies.... view prompt

2 comments

Fantasy Mystery Adventure

I was waiting for the sun like every morning since the day I sprout.

He was rising between the hills, letting his rays spread across my dying branches; some of them with a few dried leaves.

It has not been the same warm feeling as it was before. Everything changed since the slow walkers, or zombies like the humans called them, appeared.

Before, everything was better. I used to be in a great crowed park, full of life and green. Before the sun rose, people were already running or jogging around with their dogs. The birds would come to chat on my branches, strong and full of life. Other ones would have made a lovely home in them. Others would fight with some squirrels about who would get the best spot, the little hole in the middle of my trunk. It was a cozy spot, and it did not bother me at all. Actually, it felt nice when the small creatures made a home inside of me.

Now it was just an empty hole, filled with dust and dirt. I was not even able to heal it, since I was dying. The only thing that was keeping me alive was the rotting body of a zombie on my side, one of the so-called “zombiebuzzer” managed to kill him.

Now that I think about it, he looked Jeff, he had blue eyes that started to lose their color, his square chin was half broken, and his comfy outfit was just covering some parts of his ripped body. He used to come every week three times a week to walk around the park. He would wander around looking at his surroundings, and then just sit on my side, take out his book and start drawing. the same spot as he was now just peacefully resting.

I felt really strange thinking about him, knowing that now I was one eating him in a certain way.

In all this zombie situation, the days were really out of normal. One night, there was this group of people gathering around the playground area, they were armed with guns and some kind of DIY weapons. My roots suddenly started sensing that something was approaching. The rumbling of the floor told it was a large group. First I thought they were zombies, but as they got closer I noticed it was another group of humans, also well-armed.

The tension was filling the air, I could sense it. All of a sudden, they attacked each other. I could not understand what was going on. There were no zombies around. It was odd. I have seen crows fighting each other for pieces of a leftover pizza. Other times they would get really protective in hatching season. But these humans did not seem to be protecting a nest or fighting over some food.

The gunshots, the metal clashing, they all vibrated into my structure. I could feel the desperation, the anger. But then everything changed into fear. A horde of zombies was already surrounding both tribes. It was too late for them to run or even fight back, they were tired and injured. They wasted their energy focusing on their differences and not focusing on the real problem. The bullets were not enough, and the zombies got a really big dinner that night. The only witnesses were Jeff and me.

It’s hard as a tree to do something about these situations. Just standing there, watching everyone getting killed. No possible way of helping them. it frustrated me must of the time. Not being able to speak, to walk, to express yourself.

I used to have some friends when the park was full of life. There was a maple tree just a few feet away from me, and next to it a gorgeous old oak tree. Our roots used to touch, so we were able to talk to each other, we told our stories of what we saw that day, so we knew what was going on in the places we could not see. They both die when a guy with a flamethrower tried to kill some of the undead. It was painful, I felt it. every part of them burning to ashes. If I could just move or talk. It would be different.

It was a windy night. My few leaves were already on the ground, some of them covering Jeff. It was quiet when two people broke the peacefulness that surrounded me. A woman was shouting over a man about all the things that he made her do, apparently in order to survive, she sounded pretty upset. The guy was trying to calm her down, with soft words. Telling her that it was no other way, that her whole family was turned into monsters, and killing them was the only option. I could feel her sadness, frustration, and fear.

The arguments went on for at least a strong half an hour, in which I realize who that couple was. They used to come every weekend, early in the morning with their bikes. After a couple of rides, they would get off, sat down on the bench near the playground, and started talking, sometimes they would laugh, other times they would kiss, I saw them once argue, but then he went on his knees and got something from his pocket. She cried. Then she kissed him.

Now they were just fighting, the love was gone, and the fear was the only feeling left. it was sad to see a perfect couple ruined by these times. But again, nothing I could. My roots started feeling the presence of some other creature. The zombies were here. All the shouting and arguing had must attract them. As soon as they started appearing the guy put himself in front of the woman trying to protect her. He pulled out a gun and started shotting against them. Some of them did not get back up, other ones started crawling. Two were left, he did not seem them coming, one bit his ankle making him fall down, he said to his wife to run but the other two zombies started to approach. I tried to scream! To move! To give her a sign. It did not matter she could not hear me. Her husband threw her the gun before the other zombie killed him. She grabbed it with tears in her eyes, she ran towards me avoiding the two undead. once she reached my place she fell on her knees and started crying. The remaining slow walkers went after her. Her agony was too much to even kept her going, I felt it. When they were to close she hug me. I never felt that warm in my life. I tried to say to her, do not give up. She closed her hand against the gun and with a perfect aiming, she shot every single zombie in between their eyes.

Did she hear me? I thought for a moment. I was not sure but believing for a moment that she did, made me feel in peace. In the end, she mourned over her husband putting a bullet in his head, probably making sure he would become a zombie. He carried his remaining body and put it besides the remains of Jeff. I had another friend who would feed me.

September 25, 2020 22:11

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2 comments

Grace Jarvis
15:40 Oct 04, 2020

Hello, I came to your story via the critique circle email so thought I'd drop you a comment, I hope you don't mind. You have chosen an unusual perspective to write from, and I enjoyed reading the tree's point of view. My only reservation is that it is a little bit static, and it might have been interesting to have included some dialogue, or maybe switched to another perspective in the middle. I'm only saying this as I know I have a tendency to write descriptively, and often end up with a story that feels slightly flat, but hadn't realis...

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Luis Grammont
07:43 Apr 09, 2021

Hey, sorry for the late, late response. I really appreciate it. And now that I have read it again. yes, it lacks from action. I still learning how to write, and this helps a lot. thank you for taking the time to read and review. Luis

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