Gilmore Girls<\/em>. There isn\u2019t time for that now. Netflix is long gone. I\u2019m not the same person I was back then and Toby isn\u2019t the same happy pup I met a few years ago when I adopted him. We no longer live in that world, the one I took for granted. I used to be a writer, and the worst thing to happen was my barista messing up by order.<\/p>\nAt this moment, I\u2019d be totally fine with non-soy milk in my latte if it meant not fighting zombies every day. \u00a0I just live my life, without trying to impress anyone. I scavenge for food, kick zombie ass, and take care of my corgi. I assume that I\u2019m one of the only humans left. I don\u2019t believe I have seen another living human being since 2026, a few months after the apocalypse began. Most beings even resembling humans were flesh eaters.<\/p>\n
I wander into the remnants of what I imagine to be Kent, Ohio. I think there was a college here at one point and an Applebees or something perhaps. Around the corner I see a zombie that seems stranger than usual. The thing gnaws and yawns and groans at me while half of its face hangs dutifully above its shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cGnaaaaaah\u201d<\/p>\n
This isn\u2019t good, I think. My stomach twists and turns, but there is still fresh ammunition in my gun. I should just kill it but then it starts speaking to me. I can\u2019t believe what I am hearing, feeling befuddled by it all. What happened to the zombie slayer I once was?<\/p>\n
Then all of a sudden, the groaning stops and a real, human voice comes out of this undead body.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello\u2026\u201d The creature says to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2026Hell\u2026Hey.\u201d I say. Talking was hard in this moment. If the zombie wasn\u2019t speaking to me, it would already be dead.<\/p>\n
I turn around and a mirror image of that creature appears, similar but not exactly the same as the other one.<\/p>\n
\u201cHello\u2026\u201d This creature says to me, in the same voice.<\/p>\n
In this moment, I feel really afraid. Two talking zombies? Part of me wants to shoot them. The other part of me longs for conversation.<\/p>\n
\u201cUm hi?\u201d I ask, knowing that I should have been pulling the trigger.<\/p>\n
Then another talking zombie appears on my left and another one appears on my right. Their voices are like a sweet song, calling me home, yet they are also harsh enough to remind me that this is really the end. I fire my gun into the air because I feel desperate for a way out. The zombies don\u2019t back off. They continue closing in on me, pulling me into a warm embrace while ripping the skin off of my arms and legs. I won\u2019t lie, it hurts like hell and I scream out, but eventually the pain subsides and I am still alive, but in a different way, perhaps even more alive than I was before.<\/p>\n
My throat closes up and I see a thin lens of blood coating the outer layer of my eyes. My thoughts become muddied and incoherent, leaving me to lose sense of who I am and what I am even doing, yet I find comfort in this strange community for whatever reason.<\/p>\n
We go searching for our next victim, singing a bitter but somehow sweet song.<\/p>\n
2030 \u2013 Life After the Change<\/strong><\/p>\nIt\u2019s been two years of wandering around with these people. While we may not be alive anymore, we are still very much people, just functioning in a different way. \u00a0Nothing much happens here in Ohio, but it\u2019s okay because I don\u2019t have to worry about dying anymore. All I do is sing and eat flesh. It\u2019s a pretty rad life. I remember how I used to be consumed by the weight of the demands of life, and now I\u2019m just kind of here. There\u2019s something nice about that.<\/p>\n
The \u201creal\u201d humans are dying out and they aren\u2019t breeding. I worry that we will run out of food, but we can\u2019t seem to control our appetites. Each and every day goes by and I feel my cognitive functions muddied by the weight of hunger. We\u2019ve survived this far; however, I\u2019m sure that we will figure something out or maybe we will die once and for all. Maybe we deserve that.<\/p>\n
Being a zombie doesn\u2019t completely fit with the stereotype that the media used to have. I am nothing like Romero\u2019s zombies. I\u2019m pretty much the same, except for the flesh-eating thing. Us zombies still have smart conversations sometimes, and we keep on singing our songs because they\u2019re beautiful yet dead in a certain way.<\/p>\n
My friend Julia says, \u201cAlice, we met this nice human and we think we don\u2019t want to eat her yet!\u201d She has this unwavering enthusiasm and optimism that makes me want to punch her in the throat, but I don\u2019t because she\u2019s my friend.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I\u2019m so hungry!\u201d I snarl back.<\/p>\n
\u201cGah, Alice, just listen to her voice,\u201d Julia practically whines.<\/p>\n
So I try to restrain myself as I stumble with Julia on over to the human, \u201cOkay, but I can\u2019t promise that I won\u2019t try to eat her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Julia just rolls her eyes at me.<\/p>\n
Samantha is nice, I guess. She seems tired and weak, and, if I had a heart, it would be hurting for her. She sings this song, and it pours out of her mouth like a fine wine.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine, we\u2019ll keep you,\u201d I say to her, \u201cbut I can\u2019t promise that we won\u2019t try to eat you and if you try to kill us, you\u2019re done. Kapeesh?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUh, okay,\u201d Samantha says, \u201cI really like your singing and I hope that you\u2019ll let me live, you know, the way that I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo promises,\u201d I smirk. Even if I didn\u2019t eat her, that wouldn\u2019t stop the rest of us from trying.<\/p>\n
A look of horror flashes on her cold, tired face. If you didn\u2019t know any better, you\u2019d say that she\u2019s one of us. I imagine that all she did before the apocalypse was work and after the apocalypse hit, she probably wondered around aimlessly looking for food and shelter. Now, she\u2019s joined us: wondering around aimlessly, finding food to eat, and singing because well, there\u2019s nothing else to do.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By Audrey Bowers, Ball State University 2028 \u2013 The Change \u00a0 Nothing can stop me. I\u2019m a survivor of the zombie apocalypse. \u201cCome along Toby,\u201d I say to my dog. My eyes squint to see what this abandoned city might offer me. Toby, my corgi, trails after me through the brick streets of what I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":57,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[72,406],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1490","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-dlr-creative-writing","category-issue-5"],"yoast_head":"\n
Nothing Happens in Ohio: A Short Story - The Digital Literature Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/blogs.bsu.edu\/dlr\/2018\/05\/03\/nothing-happens-in-ohio-a-short-story\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Nothing Happens in Ohio: A Short Story - The Digital Literature Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"By Audrey Bowers, Ball State University 2028 \u2013 The Change \u00a0 Nothing can stop me. I\u2019m a survivor of the zombie apocalypse. \u201cCome along Toby,\u201d I say to my dog. My eyes squint to see what this abandoned city might offer me. 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