No One Believed: A Zombie Thriller

Prologue (Updated)

They kept coming closer as I begged them not to. "Please."  I pleaded with tears in my frantic eyes, "Just stay away!"

I was confused and panicked. I had no clue as to what was happening around me.

"What's wrong with you?" How come they didn't understand me?

Fingers gripped my hair, snatching my head back. "Hel-" I was cut off as they grazed their rotting teeth against my skin before IT bit into my neck.

I jolted awake, glancing around my room. A dream. Breathe, it was just a dream.  "Morgana? Are you up?" The sight of my mother walking into my room with a plate full of bacon, helps me realize this is reality. The smells of my favorite food grounds me to the real world. "Another dream?" She asks. I nod. Dreams of those things have terrorized my nights for the past six months. Saying the word zombie sounds silly and crazy. But- that's what they are. I've been going to therapy at the local rehab center; the recommendation coming from my scared shitless doctor. Three days out of the week, I make my way over there to be monitored. "Here, take the bacon." My mom, Nora, thrusts the plate into my hands and proceeds to walk away, "And don't forget your journal! We leave in thirty!"

My gaze falls onto my journal. The one gateway into my mind. The pages were littered with my horrid thoughts and dreams. Every detail I remember after waking up is jotted down in my journal. Like my most recent dream. For some reason, the setting was my college campus. I've never dreamed of familiar surroundings before. During a break between my classes, I sat under an old oak tree, away from the popular rest spots on campus. Occasionally, a few other students would lay out on the field of shining green grass.

A mop of brown curls and amber eyes caught my attention. A boy, probably freshly eighteen, was walking my way with a bright smile on his face. As he approached me his smile brightened. "Um, hi there." His cheeks flushed pink and he rubbed his neck sheepishly, "My name is Michael. I've seen you around lately and wanted to introduce mys-" The gorgeous boy in front of me glowed with the sun as he talked, but there was no time to admire his beauty.

It faded. His skin quickly paled. His eyes bloodshot and his pupils no longer amber— but red. Darkness crept around my vision and hands appeared around his throat. Then teeth. Michael stood and smiled as the creature behind him grazed his neck before taking a bite. "Michael!"

Not a detail was spared in my twisted mind. From the black veins that protruded thickly under its skin. To perfectly straight teeth stained with the blood of an innocent boy. Shock held a tight grip on my being, forcing me to witness the pieces that made up his body, be torn apart. Just sitting there useless, I was. But the worst part of it all was the giddying satisfaction that came with seeing his skin tear. Bit by bit. Cell by cell.

Then the dream was over.

The dream had shook me up so badly, that I almost believed my eyes were completely black when I glanced in the mirror. Though, this was the second time I've seen it.

I couldn't even trust my own sanity. Trust myself.

Bringing up things like 'pitch black eyes' doesn't sit well with most therapists. This small town in Florida is full of religious heretics. Every therapist I've had so far, high tailed it out of town at the mention of black eyes. Screaming about the end days. Religious bullshit.

But maybe it was real. Maybe I saw these things for a reason.

I'm probably just crazy.

Today I meet with my new therapist. Apparently she's the kind to admire the complexities of the mind. So maybe she can help me.

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"Stay away!" They keep coming closer."

"Please!" What's going on here?

"What's wrong with you?" What don't they understand?

"Helppp-" I'm cut off as one bites into my neck.

"Morgana get up!" My eyes fly open. "It was just a dream." I whisper to myself. Mom comes in with a plate full of bacon. "Another one of those zombie dreams?" She asked. I nod. For the past six months, I've been dreaming about zombies and every time...I die. I've been going to therapy. That's what they call it, but in reality it's rehab. I go to our local rehab center every weekend, then come back home Sunday night. "Thanks for the bacon mom." Bacon is the only good thing in life. "No problem. Don't forget your journal. We'll be leaving for the center in thirty minutes." With that she left.

My journal. I write all the things I see in my dreams in here. One time I even seen my school. It wasn't normal for a zombie dream. It started off like a regular day. I woke up. Ate bacon. Went to school. Eat lunch. Pack up when school is over. Go home and blast my music until I fall asleep. But it went different around lunch time. As I was sitting at my usual spot under an oak tree in the school's courtyard, a boy came up to me and said "Hello, my name is Jack. I'm new here." I wasn't facing him at the moment, so I had to look up and when I did...I was frozen from shock. He was absolutely gorgeous, but that wasn't what scared me. What scared me was a lifeless figure coming up behind him. I reached out to pull him out of its way, but I was too late. It grabbed, pulling him back, and taking a chunk of his flesh from his neck.

You could see every single detail. From its white pale hands, to its bloodstained teeth pulling apart every cell that makes up his skin. Ripping apart in front of me. It was weirdly kind of fascinating. Then it ended. I woke up with this weird dot in my eyes. I could had swear my eyes were completely black. No pupil nor white. It was only for a split second. I just shook it off. I thought I was seeing things, because of how vivid my dream was. I told my therapist and she quit her job the next day. Rambling about the end days. She was religious. Today I meet my new therapist. They say she specializes in this stuff.

I hope she can tell what the hell is wrong with me.