If the zombies with brown slime on them hadn't crawled out while chorusing his name, Mir would have continued with the initiation.
But now he was running with nothing on but beads of sweat.
Although his sac was shrunken by fear for his balls had deserted him, his member, however, dangled happily loving the run and the feel of fresh air after being trapped in the initiation kilt for two days without a wash. If it could scream it would have been one of sheer delight, totally ignoring the danger Mir was in, because like they say it's all head and no brain.
Mir called out for his mother who was miles away.
He begged the forest loudly to be merciful, for in the dark its trees take the shape of tall monstrous beings and their branches turn into a million tentacles stretching to reach and burrow their way into anyone who ventured past.
With veins filled with adrenaline and glucose from the little "Eba" he ate two days ago, Mir had his heart dangling out of his mouth as he screamed harder. He could still see the laughing faces of his uncles and elder brother in his head as he ran.
The thing is, Mir had expected his supposed forefathers to appear with neatly ironed traditional attires, shiny black shoes on, golden halos, and an ethereal luminescence to usher him into the brotherhood.
He didn't expect them to crawl of their tombs.
Photo Credit: David Gomes via Pexels
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A Collection of Shorts - Vol. One
General FictionThis is a collection of some short stories I have written over the years. I hope that each one gives you the quick respite that only short stories can.
