Cibreo

Chapter One

Zombie Speech:

          "Let me guess, you stayed up all night with her again." My best friend stated, knowing perfectly well that there really was no other reason I'd pull an all-nighter. Sleep and I have always been close, I sacrificed it for nothing and no one--well now that she's become a part of the picture I can't really say that anymore. However, in my defense, she asked me to stay up with her all night and I couldn't say no, not when she pleaded with her whisper-voice. It was a sound that I have learned to listen for, it meant that something in her real world--away from the ones we escape in together--was terribly wrong.

          "Don't talk too loud, my head is pounding." He turned back around in his seat and I retreated back into my bubble where the only person that mattered was her. It was a sick feeling, caring more about another's well being than your own--some could see it as beautiful, but it was more destructive than it appeared.

             She, however, was worth it; entirely.

          "Jason, are you ready to give your speech?" I looked at the finger tapping on my desk and followed it up to see Mrs. Willington's face. It took me awhile to come out of the eccentric trance I was trapped in as I analyzed how much her face reminded me of a Picasso painting--odd, misplaced, but strangely alluring to look at. "Mr. Scott are you feeling alright?" She asked. Now it was her who was analyzing me.

          "Yeah, yeah I am fine." I lied. Mrs. Willington then led the way to the front of the classroom and I followed.

          "Aren't you forgetting something?" Mrs. Willington asked and I quickly checked my pockets.

          "Nope, my phone's right here." I replied smiling. Laughter began to hum through the classroom colliding with giggles and peculiar facial expressions. If there was ever a moment of being completely lost...this was mine.

          "Your speech, Mr. Scott," With that being said, the weight of realization hit me. Today, I was meant to give a speech and since there were only two weeks left of school--Mrs. Willington allowed us to choose a topic of our own and mine currently didn't exist.  

          "Oh well, I've got it all up here." The lies just kept pouring out as I pointed my index finger at my head--though I was pretty sure if there was a brain somewhere in there it was damn near dead. I grabbed one of the black expo markers and stared at the whiteboard--stalling for time as I thought of what to talk about. This was fifteen percent of my grade, I was already getting a C in this class--If I got anything lower than a C I'd be on my way to summer school--that wasn't an option. My hope dwindled away second by second, until she, once again invaded my thoughts. 

          "Resident Evil is one crappy ass zombie movie." A zombie had come up behind me and she nailed him in the head with a hammer she'd picked up off of a dead body. 

          "Society would like to disagree with you, everyone loved it--well almost everyone." I said cashing out two dollars for an energy drink, my life bar was down to the third bar. 

          "Yeah, still, it was a crappy zombie movie. Great action movie." 

          "Why do you say that?"

          She sighs and uncovers two pistols that were locked beneath the wooden floors, shooting the brains out of the four zombies trying to break through the front entrance; I assist her by whacking them in head with a wooden paddle; the only thing I was capable to find. "What's another name for Zombies?" She asks just as a dozen zombies break down the barrier behind us--we need backup, but there's no one near us. They rush in like a swarm of bees and we both do our best to stay alive, but the red on my screen gets thicker and thicker. 

          Soon enough we're both on the floor; watching our avatar bodies get devoured by..."The walking dead," 

          "Exactly, walking, so why the fuck are zombies running for?" She asks, however, before I could give off an answer she speaks again. "Nonetheless, it doesn't matter it is false advertisement. They're not zombies anymore; therefore; Resident Evil is one crappy ass zombie movie." 

          "But walking zombies are boring, everyone could fall, go take a shower, and still get away." 

          "So zombies are boring. Create something new and interesting; that's fine, but if you're going to take their walking away you minus well give them a completely different title as well." In that moment, I realized that I didn't care much about the transformation of zombies in Hollywood over the years and that she was one hundred percent assured of how she felt about zombies that it made every argument you could possibly throw her way; irrelevant. That was what I needed to get an A on this speech--so I took her voice on the matter and made it mine for just a few minutes, because Mrs. Willington was grading on originality and she was original.

          "So that concludes my opinion on how zombies now days are rare--almost nonexistent; there are new monsters lurking--and they're hiding behind old identities that don't belong to them. Therefore they shouldn't be called zombies at all."  I looked up at Mrs. Willington and was greeted with nothing--her face was blank as she wrote notes down. 

          When I returned to my seat I could see that my best friend was trying his best to keep his laughter to himself--and boy he wasn't alone--but the shaking was unmistakable. So I fucked up, summer school was definitely not out of my summer plans, and it was all because I chose her over this--over myself. Why is it so hard to put something before her? Just once. My thoughts of summer were pushed to the backseat as my phone buzzed in my jeans. I pulled it out and unlocked it beneath my desk; it was a message from Cibreo.

 

A/N: So mixing Willa's prompts with my ideas wasn't a walk in the park like I thought it would be, but I feel like it is turning out great so far. Please excuse my errors and grammar mistakes my brain is shitty at containing information.