Tuesday, 24 October 2023

Week of the dead

 


Day one

 

"Please don't leave your houses.

We can’t guarantee your safety.

Reports are coming in of rioting

Looters pilfering everything.

We will bring more news as it comes in"

 

Barricaded, light slowly fading,

Only candles to illuminate.

No one warned us.

Just days

of food and drink

to keep sated.

I think of my dream,

she who lives

on the other side

of the city

and I pray

she is safe.

We will call her Elouise.

If anything happens to me

make sure she is okay. Please.

Curtains drawn.

Don't want to alert

that I am home

Outside car alarms

and groans.

A braindead lullaby calls

to chill tired bones.

As the light

fades away.

Into nightmares

I fall.

 

Day two

 

"There are things on the streets

Your brains they want to eat.

We repeat. Keep inside.

They want your brains to feast."

 

Has insanity washed over me?

Will the men in white suits

soon be here to constrain me.

Contain me?

I feel ill at ease.

Something is outside.

the smell of disease,

rotten flesh and faeces

permeates the air.

A sound chills.

The dragging of broken limbs,

grinding bones on concrete pavements.

Chances of surviving

are looking slim.

Great, I think to myself,

the apocalypse is here

and I can't even watch it on TV.

Social media is out of reach,

all I can do is sit quietly

and hope it peaks.

My heart breaks, as soon as that name

shimmers into my brain.

Elouise, I hope you

are safe from pain.

 

Day three

 

"Unconfirmed reports are coming in.

The military are down.

The government is gone,

we are on our own"

 

Of that sweet Elouise, I think,

alone, on that deserted street. 

A cloud sinks

I need to make sure she is safe.

If I don’t, I'll regret every breath

I never spent by her side.

Into the blinding sunlight I step,

bodies lay, where once a flowerbed was kept.

As I turn onto the main road,

the stench of death

hits like the hot air on a summer’s day,

burrows into my nose

and lodges itself to stay.

An approaching hoard lurches forward.

into the alley, I duck

hiding from the light of day.

The dead lay.

Fuck this is too much.

Some still twitching,

such an horrific sight to see

like a scene from the trenches,

but this army of dead still encroaches on me.

Past the alleyway they stumble,

their darkened shadows cast

eerily across the brickwork.

I fumble for a weapon, but nothing

so, I stay hidden. Better that way.

As the surge crosses the horizon,

I jump into action,

then regret it immediately,

as cramp grips my legs in agony.

Towards the other side of town

I embark, seeing horrors

which can never be written down.

If I live, my nightmares 

will never be the same,

so many visions, a future so dark.

This is not some PlayStation game

and you only get one go

to make it to the finish line.

I see a glow, 

a candle flickering in a window.

Elouise. Alive. I just know.

I walk to her door and knock.

Our secret knock 

so she knows it's me.

 

Day four

 

"We urge anyone still alive

to head to the docks,

a boat is arriving at high tide.

So set your clocks.

We hope you make it

safely to the dockside"

 

The news wakes us. 

Sleep was slept.

The sleep of hearts 

sharing solidarity.

I look out of the window.

Oh shit no.

The hoard here!

How will we get through? 

It was no use.

So, I did what I had to do.

I lured away the hoard, 

made them follow me.

Told Elouise to catch the boat instead.

I cut myself and bled,

the scent would get them to follow.

I led them back to my home,

where once there was a flowerbed

and now I'm here writing this down.

I just pray she is on the open sea,

and that she will remember me.

I sink into sleep

Dreams, 

the only place 

I wish to be

if I cant be 

with my 

sweet Elouise.

 

Day five

 

Gunfire?

Screeching sounds.

Flares,

lighting the already

bright air.

I spy through

a crack in the curtain.

A soldier. No, a whole battalion,

marching, clearing away

any brain munchers

that stay,

and behind 

I see a sight

that makes

my heart explode.

Elouise, rushing

towards my home.

Past where the 

flowerbed once grew.


 


Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 
 
Kyle




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