Disconnected Ramblings

Part 1: An Intro To Some Zombie Thing I Never Wrote

(Sometimes I do zombie stuff too. They're all meant to take place in the same universe, but I keep retconning huge swaths of the world. I made a few stories set in this zombieland before writing this, but they're not saved in the same document with all the rest. I might go find those, but they're a heckin embarrassment to the profession.)

What is it, usually, in the movies and the books and the TV shows?

A bioweapon? Something artificial?

Not always. Sometimes it's alien. Sometimes it's always been there. It might even be natural.

Sometimes no one addresses what it might be. Sometimes it's not even a virus. That's especially rare these days.

But ours is none of these.

That powder. We think that's it. White powder, like snow. Like dead skin. It replaces their blood. Changes them completely. We don't know how.

It's killed so many of us, destroyed civilization all over the world, and we don't even know how it does what it does. We can't answer the why, either, or, with certainty, even the what.

We know when it started. We know where. But it doesn't even matter now, because now, it's everywhere.

My daughter says she's sick of fantasies. She says she wants to hear a true story for once.

I'll tell her one. I'll finally tell her a true story. I'll tell her what's outside. I'll tell her why I don't go out anymore. I'll tell her why we're alone here. I'll tell her why we can't say each other's names out loud.

I'll tell her why I get worried when she leaves my sight. I'll tell her why we have to stop and freeze when the neighbor walks by. I'll tell her everything, if she'll listen.