Event 13 Stories – The Undead
Arko awoke with the smell of smoke in his nostrils. He’d hidden away in a grain warehouse close to the docks when the trouble had started. He didn’t know why his home was being overrun by grotesque shambling parodies of men and women, but he knew he had to get out.
He lived in a small town in the County of Bleakmire, minding his own business. Sure, he’d heard the rumors of what happened up at the Academy and seen a fair handful of strange folk about, but these things were not his place to question. What the learned folk and the nobility got up to was not his business.
Two nights ago, he’d come home from the inn, stumbling drunkenly through the field towards his cottage, when he noticed slow shadows
milling about the shed. He stepped closer, uncertain of his footing in the dark. As he moved closer he noticed Ute, his neighbor’s daughter staring at him dumbly. She turned around and started towards him, but something was wrong. Ute only had one arm and her face was slack as if… as if she was dead. Arko’s eyes grew wide, and too late his drunken mind told him to run, as she extended her remaining arm towards him, almost pleadingly. She touched his arm and a searing pain shot up through his arm and into his shoulder. Arko turned and ran, ran as fast as he could, stumbling across the field in the dark. He didn’t stop when he reached the end of the field and stepped onto Ute’s fathers fields, he didn’t stop when he reached the village, he just ran and ran until his legs gave way under him. With all his remaining energy, Arko dragged himself into the warehouse nearby and crawled in behind the grain sacks.
Now, as the smoke filled his lungs, Arko knew he’d have to run again, but where would he go? Who would help him?
Who would help all the others whose screams tore through the air as he left the warehouse…