Peace. Love. Zombies.

Chapter 31: Weird Dreams and Joyful Hatred

We laid in the bed, his arms tied tightly around my waist, pulling my close to him. My head laid on his chest along with my hand. I traced patterns into his chest with my slender index finger.

“Favorite… holiday?” I asked.

“Christmas,” he answered.

“Why?”

“You’re birthday’s the 17th of December and that’s closest to the holiday of Christmas! Oh and Presnets, Egg nog, SANTA! It’s a holiday of pure joy, Gwyn!” he beamed down at me. I giggled.

“What do you want for Christmas?” I asked him.

“You.”

“You already have me,” I rolled my eyes.

“Then I want to have your babies,” he shrugged. I giggled again.

“Don’t you mean the other way around,” I smirked.

“No! I want you children in my stomach.”

“Wouldn’t that hurt though, I mean when you think about the baby has to come out somewhere…” I trailed.

“Yeah, my belly button, duh. You’re so stupid sometimes,” he smiled. I laughed along with him. “What’s your favorite holiday?”

“Halloween, cause I like to dress up. I usually end up playing the part really well,” I laughed. “Guess what I was the last time I dressed up.”

“Um, sexy?” he smirked.

“Other than that,” I giggled.

“Tell me,” he smiled.

“I was the angel of massacre,” I told him.

“You still are, aren’t you?” He laughed. I nodded with a smirk. There wasn’t a problem with me being an angel of masscre. It was me vurses the army of the undead. It had to be a massacre. “Angel, indeed,” he smirked as he kissed my forehead. I giggled and let my eyes droop a bit. This didn’t go unnoticed of course. “Even angels need sleep, huh?” he laughed. “Go to sleep, Gwyn.” I frowned and shook my head.

“I don’t want to, I want to stay up with you,” I told him. He chuckled.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to sleep where you can lay in happines next to the clear white water of the beach?” he smirked.

“Are you stupid? I’m laying in happiness right now. Why do I need to fall asleep to do something like that alone, when I can stay up and talk to you?” I asked. He shrugged.

“It was just a suggestion,” he muttered. Then the sound of the spring rain hit our window pane. It was a soft rain and the pitter patter of it was lulling me to sleep. Eli could tell because then he started to say softly into my ear, “Just imagine how nice it’d be to let your heavy eyelids fall and listen to my heart beat in my chest while you sleep. Just imagine how refreshed you’ll be in the morining and how much you’ll be energized after you’re pulled out of slumber.” I smiled and let my eyes close.

“You should be a writer. You use really fancy words,” I smirked.

“Like?”

“Refreshed, slumber, stuff like that,” I mumbled. He chuckled and kissed my forehead.

“Just go to sleep, Gwyn.”

“Okay, nighty night, Eli.”

The waves crashed on the shore of that beautiful beach back in Texas. The soft white sand, the clear blue ocean, the cloudless sky. The scene was identical as the one before, but this time, there was no Paul, no Peter, and no Eli. I sit there on the sand wearing my black shorts and blood stained white top. My skin was covered in dirt and dried blood and my feet were hidden by my boots. The only thing I had for protection was a bow and a quiver of fifty bloody arrows.