I don't know why the dead do not sleep. They roam the empty streets with empty gazes. Always hungry. Never satisfied. The few that do sleep are lost forever. Thier bodies finally ran out of energy to keep pushing them forward. Always forward.
They roam in packs. Maybe of two or three but most of the time they group together in the masses, forming great packs of Shufflers. That's what we've decided we are going to call them. Shufflers. Others call them Wanderers. Its good, but too lively of a title. It makes them sound like they are alive and wandering the open roads, looking for their next adventure. But what they really are is dead. Corpses that somehow are still functioning. Corpses that never found their way to the grave.
That worries me. It makes me think that one day, my loved ones and I will be just like them. Shufflers. The thought alone makes my skin crawl. Crawl like the maggots that crawl on them. I don't ever want that to happen. I never want to see them like that. If I have to, I'll shoot every single one of the people I love in the head after they die, just to make sure they don't come back again.
In this new world filled with the undead, our morals become a little twisted. Anything we can do to survive, we'll do it.
Trust me.
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The Dead Do Not Sleep
ParanormalThe things, they walked. Without purpose or drive, they shuffled noisily through the streets. No-one knew why they were like this, what caused this to happen, and most importantly, how to stop it. Through the veil, people remember life before the cu...
