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This is it. June has come to an end and so has the Summer of Zombie Blog Tour. It's been a hell of a ride. We've spoke to more zombies than we can shake a rotting limb at. We're read essays defending the zombie genre. We managed to get a drinking game or two in and we've read some exellent stories from zombies on summer vacation.
To end this shebang, we've saved our favorite submission for last. Claire C. Riley provided us with an exclusive piece entitled, "My Summer Apocolypse". It is a one of a kind What I Did On My Zombie Summer Vacation Piece. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did.
And before we get started with the end, I'd like to thank each and every zombie author who contributed to the festival of the dead. We had a blast spotlighting you all and we hope we've helped connect you with a new reader or two. Until next summer, we leave you with Claire C. Riley...
Brainz. Brainz. Brainz.
That’s all anyone ever thinks we zombies think about. It’s quite presumptuous and insulting
really. When I was alive, I was a tit man. Nothing like a good ole’ pair of titties to put a smile
on my face. Summertime was my favorite season of the year. You know why? Because women love flashing all their junk as soon as they see a little bit of sunshine, and I was always on hand to offer them a free ogle.
But brainz? Nah, never thought much about brainz.
I don’t really know when it happened, the whole zombie thing, but my last thought was of titties. A big pair of bouncing titties in a tiny string bikini. She was jogging along the each
like she was on a Baywatch commercial. Titties bouncing, blond hair flapping around behind her, firm ass that I wanted to cup my hand over, and I was practically salivating, hiding behind my RayBans as I watched her.
Yeah, my last thoughts were damn good ones.
My first thought wasn’t so good.
Pain like you wouldn’t believe flared inside of me. It was like being beaten with a baseball bat with six inch nails protruding out of it. So yeah, that pretty much sucked. I remember screaming and not recognizing my own voice. I remember my blood covering my hands, and the red crimson tide lapping over my feet. It was majorly fucked up if I’m honest. Like tripping but without the comedown.
It hurt to sit it, but I dealt with that, gritting my teeth and forcing my body to move. God damn I felt angry though, and hungry. The last thing I ate was a hotdog and I was pretty sure it was only an hour or so ago, but it felt like a lifetime. I looked around me, wondering what the hell had just happened, the pain in my body was subsiding, and I had a feeling that the hotdog must have been bad, because my guts were churning something rotten. Still, when I saw that big tittied woman, crawling along the beach and sobbing, I pushed my bad guts to one side and stood up, intending to be her knight in shining armor.
Her eyes were wide with fear when they saw me, and I scratched at my beard, feeling the bristles spiking my fingertips. She wasn’t as pretty up close, but her body was bangin’ either way, so I focused on that instead.
She smelled like coconuts and mojitos.
I smiled at her and held a hand out to help her up, but the crazy bitch started screaming and backing away like I was some crazy assed serial killer. I knelt down next to her, intending to calm her down and basically shut the hell up, but the smell of coconuts was growing even stronger and making my guts twist painfully.
I knew I needed to get away, if I didn’t I was definitely gonna’ shit myself, but damn it’s hard when there’s a semi-naked woman in front of you.
I’m not sure what really happened next, it’s a bit of a blur, so you’ll have to excuse my shitty memory. There was blood. I remember that much. Lots and lots of blood. And then I was chewing on gristle, and I remember wondering if I had spewed my guts up in my mouth after all, because there was the rankest taste in my mouth.
I spat out whatever I was chewing on and looked down at the woman with the big titties and saw that her chest was an explosion of red. And what looked like an implant was hanging half inside and half outside her body. I grimaced and stood up, backing away from her in disgust.
I didn’t know what the hell was going on with this bitch, but all I really wanted to do was get the hell away from her.I turned and staggered away, my guts still churning and my head spinning from what just happened. I glanced back several times trying to work out if I had done that, but then something else caught my eye.
A beautiful brunette in a pink bathing suit running along the shoreline. She was screaming something fierce, her hair whipping about her face, but all I could focus in on was her big ole’ titties bouncing around.
I stumbled after her, eager to help, or do whatever needed to be done, to get a taste of those big titties of hers.
My summer was pretty awesome when I think back to it. No complaints from me. Well, apart from my guts still feel awful and I think I just shit myself again.
Claire C. Riley
This is it. June has come to an end and so has the Summer of Zombie Blog Tour. It's been a hell of a ride. We've spoke to more zombies than we can shake a rotting limb at. We're read essays defending the zombie genre. We managed to get a drinking game or two in and we've read some exellent stories from zombies on summer vacation.
To end this shebang, we've saved our favorite submission for last. Claire C. Riley provided us with an exclusive piece entitled, "My Summer Apocolypse". It is a one of a kind What I Did On My Zombie Summer Vacation Piece. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did.
And before we get started with the end, I'd like to thank each and every zombie author who contributed to the festival of the dead. We had a blast spotlighting you all and we hope we've helped connect you with a new reader or two. Until next summer, we leave you with Claire C. Riley...
Brainz. Brainz. Brainz.
That’s all anyone ever thinks we zombies think about. It’s quite presumptuous and insulting
really. When I was alive, I was a tit man. Nothing like a good ole’ pair of titties to put a smile
on my face. Summertime was my favorite season of the year. You know why? Because women love flashing all their junk as soon as they see a little bit of sunshine, and I was always on hand to offer them a free ogle.
But brainz? Nah, never thought much about brainz.
I don’t really know when it happened, the whole zombie thing, but my last thought was of titties. A big pair of bouncing titties in a tiny string bikini. She was jogging along the each
like she was on a Baywatch commercial. Titties bouncing, blond hair flapping around behind her, firm ass that I wanted to cup my hand over, and I was practically salivating, hiding behind my RayBans as I watched her.
Yeah, my last thoughts were damn good ones.
My first thought wasn’t so good.
Pain like you wouldn’t believe flared inside of me. It was like being beaten with a baseball bat with six inch nails protruding out of it. So yeah, that pretty much sucked. I remember screaming and not recognizing my own voice. I remember my blood covering my hands, and the red crimson tide lapping over my feet. It was majorly fucked up if I’m honest. Like tripping but without the comedown.
It hurt to sit it, but I dealt with that, gritting my teeth and forcing my body to move. God damn I felt angry though, and hungry. The last thing I ate was a hotdog and I was pretty sure it was only an hour or so ago, but it felt like a lifetime. I looked around me, wondering what the hell had just happened, the pain in my body was subsiding, and I had a feeling that the hotdog must have been bad, because my guts were churning something rotten. Still, when I saw that big tittied woman, crawling along the beach and sobbing, I pushed my bad guts to one side and stood up, intending to be her knight in shining armor.
Her eyes were wide with fear when they saw me, and I scratched at my beard, feeling the bristles spiking my fingertips. She wasn’t as pretty up close, but her body was bangin’ either way, so I focused on that instead.
She smelled like coconuts and mojitos.
I smiled at her and held a hand out to help her up, but the crazy bitch started screaming and backing away like I was some crazy assed serial killer. I knelt down next to her, intending to calm her down and basically shut the hell up, but the smell of coconuts was growing even stronger and making my guts twist painfully.
I knew I needed to get away, if I didn’t I was definitely gonna’ shit myself, but damn it’s hard when there’s a semi-naked woman in front of you.
I’m not sure what really happened next, it’s a bit of a blur, so you’ll have to excuse my shitty memory. There was blood. I remember that much. Lots and lots of blood. And then I was chewing on gristle, and I remember wondering if I had spewed my guts up in my mouth after all, because there was the rankest taste in my mouth.
I spat out whatever I was chewing on and looked down at the woman with the big titties and saw that her chest was an explosion of red. And what looked like an implant was hanging half inside and half outside her body. I grimaced and stood up, backing away from her in disgust.
I didn’t know what the hell was going on with this bitch, but all I really wanted to do was get the hell away from her.I turned and staggered away, my guts still churning and my head spinning from what just happened. I glanced back several times trying to work out if I had done that, but then something else caught my eye.
A beautiful brunette in a pink bathing suit running along the shoreline. She was screaming something fierce, her hair whipping about her face, but all I could focus in on was her big ole’ titties bouncing around.
I stumbled after her, eager to help, or do whatever needed to be done, to get a taste of those big titties of hers.
My summer was pretty awesome when I think back to it. No complaints from me. Well, apart from my guts still feel awful and I think I just shit myself again.
Claire C. Riley
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| Zombie Author Claire C. Riley |
Claire C. Riley is a bestselling British horror writer whose work is best described as the modernization of classic, old-school horror. She fuses multi-genre elements to develop storylines that pay homage to cult classics while still feeling fresh and cutting edge. She writes characters that are realistic, and kills them without mercy. Claire lives in the United Kingdom with her husband, three daughters, and one scruffy dog.
Author of the bestselling Odium The Dead Saga Series, Thicker Than Blood, Limerence, plus much more.
Contact Links:
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| Here's a picture of a zombie queen for no particular reason. |
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