SHORT STORY: “GOOD MORNING, ZOMBIES.”
Kendra’s deep chestnut-eyes flutter open. Her ebony arm reaches out to the nightstand. Her hand, with cat-like reflexes, knocks the twin bell alarm clock off the table and on to the floor. There, it flops like a goldfish out of the water.
Sitting up in bed, she yawns and stretches her arms above her head, then back down to her sides. She flings the covers off her and slides one leg off the bed. Her foot stomps the carpeted floor, her other leg follows. She stands up then takes a step forward. “YEOW! Damn clock.” She picks it up, turns it off, and throws it onto her queen-size bed. Hobbling to the bathroom, she says, “Don’t wanna go to work. Don’t wanna go to work. Don’t wanna go to work.” [Read More]