The Nightstalker's Burden

The world didn't end with fire or war - it ended with a lie.

Almost a year ago, everything fell into ash and ruin. They told us not to worry, told us everything was under control. They smiled on the broadcasts, calm and rehearsed, while the world quietly rotted behind them. We believed them. God, we wanted to believe them.

But I saw the truth long before they admitted anything.
The videos online.
The screams in the background.
The bodies that didn't stay dead.

How do you hide the undead rising?
How do you silence the panic when neighbors vanish overnight, when loved ones stop answering their phones, when the smell of decay creeps through the walls?

Then came the announcement - the so‑called vaccine.
"This will keep you safe."

But it didn't keep us safe.
It didn't save anyone.
And it turned me into something I don't even have a name for.

A night‑stalking zombie.
A monster that still remembers being human.

I woke one evening with a red haze burning behind my eyes, a strength that felt stolen, unnatural. My skin cold. My heartbeat slow. My mind filled with thoughts so dark they didn't feel like mine - the craving for flesh, for warmth, for life.

I fight it every night.
I survive on animal blood, pretending it's enough.
Pretending I'm still me.

But the truth is... I've become the thing people pray never finds them in the dark.

Still, I can't shake the hope that I'm not alone. That there are survivors out there. That someone, somewhere, is still fighting.

I want to help rebuild what's left of humanity. I want to believe I still have a purpose. But who would ever accept what I am now? Humans fear zombies - they kill first and ask questions never.

If they discovered the Z‑virus in my veins, they wouldn't hesitate.
They'd put me down like an animal.

So I hide.
I blend in.
I pretend.

Because if anyone uncovers my secret...
It won't just be the end of me.
It'll be the end of whatever hope I have left.

© Raven Roese,November 2021

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