This is still a rough draft. This is what happens when I watch The Walking Dead and try to think of a new story.
I was listening to Hozier’s To Be Alone and thought of a story about a serial killer and it was going to be awesome and dark and all that, then I turned on The Walking Dead. This is what happened instead. Damn zombies. I do plan to work on it more.
Aaron placed his fork down on his now empty plate. The house was so quiet now. It used to be so full of sound and life, Sasha and Abby singing or playing games, listening to the radio, or just chatting that way mothers and daughters do. All of that was gone now.
Outside he heard the whistle of the wind through the eves, but nothing else. Tonight nothing stirred. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the weak flame of the candle on the table in front of him. It smelled vaguely of pumpkin pie spices or some such nonsense. It was not something he would have chosen for himself, but Sasha had loved the damned things, he found an entire cabinet full of them upstairs.
The wind gave another moan. It would storm tonight. The whistle would turn to a howl and the walls would shake with the rolling of the thunder, but tonight he was no longer alone. He looked lovingly at the shape huddled under the blankets on the narrow bed. She did not move, but he knew she was there.
“Oh, Sasha,” he mused. “I have missed you.” No response came, though he had not really expected one.
They had been so young when they first met, hardly more than kids. Those had been the days, days when the world was somewhere you wanted to live. A world with people and homes and concerts. Children and schools were common and dark nights waiting for the storm to pass were rare.
“All this time I looked for you, love. Do you know how hard it was? Do you know what I went through?” His smile was vague and his eyes misty. “How long has it been since we were here, just the two of us?” He pushed his chair back and did not even notice the shriek the legs made on the worn wooden floor.
“You should have known I would never be able to live without you.” He sat on the edge of the thin mattress and pulled the blanket back. His wife’s fine golden hair shimmered in the dim light, and her pale face came into view. Her skin was grey and waxy, not the soft pink he remembered, but that would not matter for long. A milky film now covered her once bright blue eyes. The deep groan all the undead made filled the room.
Soon they would be together forever.